Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1900-02-03
CHAPTER XIII.

maid, enters Kits room i'm a somewhat mys-
terious fashion. CHANGING all round the
room furtiyely; as though expecting an
enemy lying in ambush behind every chair
and table, she says in a low, cautious tone,-
"A letter for you, miss"
AS she says this, she draws note from
beneath her apron, where, I'm herrigllt hand,
II has been carefully hidden,-sp carefully,
indeed that she could not have failed to
create suspicion in the breast of babe.
For ]" says Kit, off her guard for once.
"Yes, miss"
"Who brought it?''
"a bit OF gossoon, miss, out there in the
yard beyant. An he wouldn't give me his
name; but sure know him well for boy
Of the Maddens', an one Of the Coole peo-
pie. His father, an his gran father before
him, were laborers with the ould Squire"
"Ah, indeedr' says Kit. By this time she
has recovered her surprise and her compos-
IRE. THANK you, Bridget" she says, with
quite grandiloquent air; put il there, on
that table. 1t is of no consequence, dare
say: you can CO."
Bndget-who, like all her c0untrywomen,
dearly likes a love-affair, and is quite aware
of young Mr.. Desmond's passion for her
mistress-is disappointed.
The gOssoon said he was TO wait for an
answer, miss" she says, inslnuatingly. AN
fAiy." waxing confidential, II think caught
sight OF the coat-tails Of Msther DesmOndS
man outside the yard gate
"You should never think on such occa-
sions Bridget; and coat-tals are decidedly
lO,c," says the younger Miss Beresford, with
scathing reproof.
'They weren't very low, miss. He wore
one o them cut-away coats says Bridget,
in an injured tone.
"YOu fail TO grasp my meaning" says Kit,
gravely. However, let it pass. If this note
requires an answer you can wait in the next
room until write it,"
Then she tears open the envelope, and
reads as fo!lows:-
DEAR LITTLE KIT, Owing you all the
love and allegiance I'm the world for having
helped me once, | come to YOU again. How
am 1 10 pass this long day without glimpse
OF her? 1t Is loyesick swain who doth en-
treat your mercy. Does any happy thought
run through your pretty head? If SO, my
man Is waiting for 1t somewhere; befriend
me second time. Eyer yours,
BRIAN" -
Prompt action is rs the breath of her nos
trils to Kit Drawing pen and ink toward
her. without q moments hesitation, she
scribbles an answer to Desmond
1--WE are going toward Balyvoureen this
afternoon, TO take pudding to Old Biddy
DAILY; any one chdncjliO to walk there also
might meet u.s. Count upon me always. :.
RIT."
This Macchavellian epistle, which she
fondly believes to be without its equal in
the matter of depth, she folds carefully,
and, Dclosing 1t in an envelope void address
or anything (mark the aStutencsS Of UdtD,
calls 10 Bridget to return to her.
"IOu will find the bog you mentioned as
being by birth Madden" she says, auStere-
ly, "and give him thiS; and you will refrain
from gossiping and idle talking with him,
which is not convenient"
1t would be impossible to describe the
tone in which she says this. Bridget, much
disgusted, takes the note silently, and with
sufficient nervousness to make itself known.
Indeed, she is 50 plainly impressed 10y Kits
eloquence that the latter's heart sings aloud
for Joy.
yes, miss" she says, in very subdued
voice, and goes away with indignant haste,
to tell COOK, as she passes through the ki,ch.
en-, that "Faix, Miss Kit might be her owr
gran mOther,-She is so oud an Quare in hcl
ways"
Kit meantime goes in search of Monica,
with 4 mind stored with crafty arguments
for the b2guilng of that unconscious maid
ell. Hearing voices in the mOrning-rOom
she turns in there, and finds the whole
family in cOnclave.
Miss Priscilla is speaking
Yes l certainly think hospitality of some
sort should be shown them," she is saying,
with quite an excited flush on her dear Old
ugly face. I'VE cannot, of course, do much;
but afternoon tea, now, and some pleasant
people to meet them,-anl Strawberries
and little stroll round the gardcns-ah:
And, Penelope, you used to be a great hand
at claret-cup in our dear fathers time; and
then there is tennis. / really think, you
know, it might be done"
"lS there going to be party here, Aunt
PrscillaY' asks Kit, with enlarged eyes.
well, my dear, we are debating the pos
sibiites of it,-just the pros and cons, says
Miss Priscilla, precisely. 'Your aunt Pcnc.
lOpe agrees with me that some attention is
due to those young men in Clonbree Bar
racks"
you are going to ask Captain Cobbett
and Mr.. Ryde here! Oh, what fun!' cries
Kit, seating herself, minus invitation, on
Miss Prisclla's knee and twining her arms
round her neck. do You know, when with
mother we didn't dare call our souls our
own; but with you we are having real coed
old times! Aren't we, nOw?'
"Oh, Kit!-my dear Kit!-yOu must not
speak SO Of your lost mother cry the old
ladies in breath, both greatly distressed.
'Well, | sha'n't If you don't wish 1t; but
1t is true, for all that. When is it to BE-.
Aunt Prise
Next week, suppose" says Miss Pene-
lope, promptly, seeing that Miss Priscilla IL
still too agitated to reply. And l think,
perhaps, it would be rather nice to have tea
in the orchard"
"Oh how quite too loyely" says Kit
claSping her hands.
quite too utterly, y,cOnsummately, precious
ly intense?' mutters Terence, soto roce, re.
garding Kit sideways, who returns his rap
turous glance with one full of melrable dis
dain.
II hope Michael won't object" says Miss
Penelope, newously. Michael is Me gar.
dener, and they are al, without exception,
afraid of him.
Nonsense, my dear! why should hep
says Miss Priscilla. ut isn't because he
has been here for years that he Is TO forbid
us the use Of our grounds and of late | coa-
slider there is great fault to be found with
him. Long service should not generate neg
lect, and of late there has not been good
lettuce or respectable dish of asparagus in
the garden"
"There wasn't even any thyme last week" ("
says Kit, who maintains an ndying fcud
with Michael. He had to get some fresh
plants from Cahirmore."
..'Time was made for slaves, says Terence,
meditatively. You aren't slave, are you?'
Il should hope not says Kit, iciy.
"Then yo can't want time; so don't wor-
ry that poor old man in the garden about it.
He hasn't a scythe, or bald head, CT dis
NAL forelock; so he can't know anything
about it."
You are so clever" says the younger Miss
BereSford, with unmxed scorn, that won
der something dreadful doesn't happen to
you"