Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1899-12-09
MONICA.
A LOVE STORY OF MODERN DAYS,

Yes, miss" whereupon Monica prepares
TO leave the room, but the new maid stops
her.
"If we pleaSe, Miss Monica" she says,
hesltatlngand applying her apron to her lips.
"Yes, CAVITY"
I'D be very thankful to We, miss, IL We
wouldn't call me that"
"Call you what?"
"Canty, miss"
"But," astonished, 'isn't 1t your name"
mo, miss; me name is Bridget"
"But surely Canty Is your name, too?''
''Well, it's me fathers name no doubt;
but faix l feel just like boy when you call
me by it, an We wouldn't likeme to feel like
boy, miss, would YEP" says the village
beauty, casting an anxious glance at Monica
from her dark Irish eyes, and blushing
deeply,
Certainly not" says Monica, laughing q
little. Very well, Bridget; for the future
shall try to forget you ever had sur
name,o
THANK We, miss" says Bridget, with g
sigh OF profound relief.
Then Monica runs downstairs, where she
finds he- auntS in the drawing-room, dressed
in their Very best silk gowns. waiting for
the carriage to come round. There l. a lit
tie delay which wasted time the two old
ladies spend in endcayorng to drill Terence
into shape. Something OF this sort is going
Oh as Monica enters.
when introduce you to Madam O'Con-
nor or Lady RossmOyne my dear boy, be
! sure you make very low bow. Nothing
distinguishes a gentleman so much from the
common herl as the manner of his salute.
Now make he bow, that may Judge Of
your style" Thus Miss Priscilla.
II couldn't make one TO order Ike that"
says Terence; yet he sulkily complies, max
ing very short stiff, and uncompromlsing
nol that makes both aunts lift their hands
In dismay.
"Oh, no, my dearl-that won't do ut all
Most ungraceful, and totally devoid of the
dignity that should inspire it. Now look at
me- 1t shoL.d be something like this"
making him reverence that might well
have created admiration in the court Of
Queen Anne.
"Ah, yes that is something like what it
should be-" chimes in Miss Penelope, pay
ing tribute TO the talent of her sister.
Priscilla has caught the true tone. | wish,
Terence, we could see you more like your
dear grandfather; he was man to bow"
Terence, calling to mind the portrait Of
his dear grandfather" rs represented in
The elaborate gilt frame in the dining-room,
in court suit and q periwig, and with an
Gbomlnable Simper, most devoutly thanks
his gods that he is not like unto him. He Is,
indeed (feeling goaded to the last degree),
about to break into unseCmly language,
when, fortunately, the arrival Of the ancient
equpage that has done duty at Moyne as
state carriage for generations is announced.
The cOachman, who Is considerably older
than Timothy, draws up the old horses be-
fore the door with careful manner that
impreSses the baholder with the belief that
be thinks they would run away in minute
If he relaxed muscle on the reins; and a
small boy, who acts as footman and looks
decidedly depressed, lets down the rickety
steps.
/ Miss Priscilla Blake then enters the car.
riage. She is followed with much ceremony
by Miss Penelope. After which Monica
who is impressed by the proceedings, and
Terence, who is consumed with secret mirth,
step in and seat themselves. Then the
coachman says, Gee upr' in exactly the
tone he has employed for forty years; and,
the gloomy boy settling down beside him,
they are all presently on the fair road to
Aghyohillbeg
Gazing at the natural beauty of the wild
loyeliness around them;
"Joy rises in her like a summer morn"
anu lhNli ollt oNNS al Olh lONs DIOdNl,
picturesque, with balconies and terraces,
and beyond the house slanting lawns, and
at one side tenniS-cOurts, where many gayly-
clad figures are moving to and fro.
Then they al descend from the time
! honored chariot, and cross the lawn to where
! they can see their hostess standing, tall and
erect and handsome, in spite Of her sixty
years.
,,sn I'll
staring hard at Monica's pure little face, the
! girl looking straight back at her with a GER
tain amount of curiosity in her eyes. -"Well,
wish you no greater fortune than your
face, my dear" says the old Irishwoman.
"It ought TO be a rich one, I'm thinking.
You're like your mother, too; but your eyes
are honester than hers. You must know
knew Kitty Blake very we'll at one time"
II have heard my mother speak of you,"
says Monica.
"Ay-So? Yet fear there wasn't much
love lost between u.s." Then she turns a
little aside to greet some one else, and MOnl-
ca lets her eyes roam round the grounds.
Suddenly she starts, and says out loud
"Ah there is OlgaW
"You know Mrs. Bohun, then? says the
hostess, attracted by her exclamation and
her pretty viyacious expression.
$50 very, very WELL" says Monica. She
has flushed warmly, and her eyes are brill.
iant II want to speak to her; l want to go
| to her, please"
"BleSs me! what shame TO waste that
lovely flush on mere woman" says Mad
am O'ConnOr, with merry laugh. Here,
! Fred" turning to young man standing
close to her with very discontented eX-
| preston, II am going to give you a mission
after your own heart. You are to take Miss
| Beresford over there, TO where Mrs. BOhun
| is dealing death to all those boys.-This is
Lord Rossmoyne, Miss Beresford; he will
see you safely overyour rubicOn."
"Oh, thank you'll" says Monica, gratefully
! smiling at her.
''Tut, child thank me when / have done
something for you. 1t is Fred's turn to
| thank me now" says Madam O'Connor, with
merry twinkle in her gray eyes.
She is large woman close on sixty, with
an eagle eye and hawks nose. AS Monica
leaves her she continues her gossip with the
half-dozen young men round her, who are
| all laughing at some joke. Presently she
! herself Is laughing louder than any of them
| (being partial to boys and their fun" as
| she calls it). Bestowing now smart blow
with her fan upon the youngest and proba-
! bly, therefore most flippant of her attendants,
she stalks away from them across the lawn,
! to where two ladies are sitting together.
| slave you seen that girl of Kitty Beres-
/ ford's, Edth" asks Madam O'Connor of the
elder lady.
"That little washed-out-looking girl who
came with those two old Miss Blakes?" asks
the youthful old woman, with profoundly
Juvenile lisp.
'Faith, l don't know about her being
washed out" says Madam 0'Connor, blunt
Iy. II think she is the prettiest creature I've
seen this many day"
"You are so impulsiye, my dear Theresa p