Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1899-06-24

of Execution, and.the prisoner looked
exactly like man at an afternoon tea.
However, the lions seemed to enjoy
it. I wonder how Anne manages to
get so many when she entertains!"
ooh, they gladly come for nothing,
because they know she is rich enough
to pay for it. Tom calls her house
'The Jungle, and"
elbow did you induce him to come,
when"
"We eere on the way to dine with
his mother, and he could not refuse
me that sn Ri consolation. When we
reached the house Tom told her that
we had just seen the lions fed. Some
times Think Tom is good deal like
his mother" sighed the tall brunette.
"Well, it was lovely tea," said the
girl with the dimples; "but somehow
I've felt sort of worried ever since.
Anne is queer, You know. I once ran
out to ask her if she was hurt when
she fell of her wheel, alighting on
her head, and somehow she has never
seemed really fond of me since. But
I do like to go to her teas; there is al
ways chance that her lions will say
something one can repeat and"
II know it; but be careful to whom
you repeat it. You remember that
reception she gave to Omar Mushley,
the poet, do you not? Well, was
there, but he seemed sort of reserved
when I was introduced to him.
However, T heard that he told one of
the guests that he felt sure that he
had known her in some past existence.
Now, had told Aurora that I ex.
pected to meet him, and when I came
in late at her dinner the next evening
tried to placate her and make myself
agreeable to the guests by repeating
the remark az if it had been made to
me-"
ooh, we'll, it didn't make any diff
ference. YOU"
ut wouldn't have, dear, but for the
fact that the woman across from me
was the real recipient. She had just
finished telling it when came in"
"Dear, DEAR" sighed the girl with
the dimples; sit really doesn't pay to
be agreeable to people; they are SO
ungrateful. Now, I heard an awfully
funny story at the club the other day.
It was about q woman who soniehsw
got hold OF one OF her husbands love
letters, and"
"Oh, pshaw! That is an old story.
Every woman keeps her love letters
to-"
"But this was written to an old
sweetheart, dear, before he ever saw
her. That sweetheart is now the ugli-
est old maid you ever saw, and it sort
of hurts his feelings to be reminded
that he once called her his love with
the apple blossom face 1t seems that
the wife can get anything she wants if
she refers to that letter at the right
moment. Well. I saved that story for
an emergency. The other evening
father brought home man with whom
he was trying to drive good bargain.
He told me that I should be very
agreeable to his guest and he would
make it up to me-"
"And were you?"
II tried to be; l thought OF that
story and told it. Father was delight
ed and laughed until the tears came,
but somehow the guest didn't seem to
enjoy it. He went home early, and
next day I found ont that his wife was
the heroine of the story. I only hope
my father will not discover the fact.
that is all!'
"Goodncss, I hope SO! But you
were speaking of Anne's tea. Did you
enjoy it?"
en-, no. can't say that did,
though I fully expected to. You see,
in tho morning Anne came over to Dor.
row my caudlesticks and shades. Just
before she asked for them she told me
that must be sure to come, as she
expected Mr.. Dickens Thackeray
Jones, the novelist, and the heroine OF
his last book might have been drawn