Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1900-01-06

turning mon ilI,g now a eountenanea more
l1 SORROW tli in angef
vgt islst much,n SAYS MISS Beresford
aWeetly, what is Your Christian
nama2 lhaye been ~ lotolfla to know ~
isvery nIipleasantcto be Obliged IN n sgstls 81
/ people by tlieir sflrnanlcss is II nptR 50 ugl-
Hc Il quite staggered by tie excess Of her
ssseealality.
y mama IS Bfsan,r lie says, deyOutly
hopaig she will not think Il hideous and so
see cale to pass Judgment Upon It.
Bran y going rearer to him with half
Shy eyes, and q iistle 9g0nto mouth that with
ditsiculty suppTesses It's laughter How
pretty Brian, purpOsclg lingering Over it,
''witl ain II Uf cOnrse2',
nYes.i
% 20 glad know yonra nOww says
this disgraceful little c0Quctta Wsth sigh
Of pretended relief "You knew mine, and
that wasn't fair, yOu know. Besides, ~
with rapid glance that might have melted
an artchorite and delivered him from the
error 6f his ways besides, may wantto
call you hy II Sone day, tud then I should
Be at a loss
Though BY no means proof against SO
much ffiendlineSs, Mr.. Desmond still con-
tinues 10 maintain On injured demeanor.
MoIica lays one little nand lightly on his
arm.
Wont you ask me % call YOU by itg',shc
says, with the prettiest reproach,
''Oh, Monica ? says the young man, seizing
her hand and pressing Il against his heart,
"y0lllSnow your power, be- mercifni, Darling =
drawing her stlll nearer to hiia, II don't
think yoa quite understand how 1t Is with
me; but indeed, / love you with all my
heart and souI.u
But IN such little time How can 1t be
traeg says Monica an her gayety turning
Into serious wondernlent.
Love Il q thing as any spirit free u
quotes he, tenderly. HOW shall one know
when the god may come? 1t has nothing TO
DO with time. I have seen you, lit little
matters how often, and now love you.
Dear heart, tf7i to love me.
There Is something hhis manner both
gentle and earnest. Impressed by It, she
whispers, softly,T
II iOitt try,n
"And you win call me BrIang'
''Oh, nOl--no, indeed l--not yet entreats
she, stepping back from him as far as he
win allow her.
"VeTy well, not YETI
And you win so to the Barracks for this
dance?'
II win do anything on earth you ask nae,
You know that too wen, i fear, for my peace
OF mlnd.s
"And you won't be angry with me If ]
don't dance with You therew
mo. promise that, too, Ali Here Is
Miss Kit coming, land without the roses, :
after all,
II Is true she has no roses she has, In.
deed, forgotten she even pretended to want
them, and has been happy while away with
her song and her own thoughts.
II think, Monica, we ought, perhaps, to
be thinking Of going home, she says,
Rpologetically, yet with quite q motherly
air. Has she not been mounting guard oven
and humoring these two glddy young peo.
pie before her?
yes, think 50 too;'' and the goodness
OF Kit, and something else, strike her.
If we are asked 10 this dance at Cion.
bree, and IL we go, should like Kit te 60
too" she says IN SGT aside 10 Desmond
who says, THAT is all right; / settled Il
with CObbett, yesterday" In the SANS tone;
and then a little more cuergetcailS as lac
sees the moments flying, he goes on, BE
fore you go, say one thing after me. 1t will
be small consolation until see You again,
Say, Brian, gOod.byp"
''Good-by, Brian,p she whispers, shyIy,
and then she draws her hand out of his, and
turning 10 the studlously inattentive Kit,
passes her arm through hers.
'Good-by, Mr.. DesmOndl trust we may
soon meet again. says the younger Miss
BeresfOrd, with rather grand air, smiling
upon him patronizngly.
II hope 50 too, says Desmond, grGyeIy,
sand that next time you win graciously ac.
cord me little more Of your society"
Quite pleased with this delicate protest
against her heightened absence, Kit bows
politely, and she and Monica take their
homeward way y.
Once Monica turns, to wave him a little
friendly adieu, and he can see again her
soft, bare arms, her pretty baby-neck In her
white dinner-gOwn, and her lovely, earnest
eyes. Then she Is gone, and her passing
seems to him "lile the ceaslng Of exquisite
music,n and nothing is left him but the vail.
Ing Of the rising night-wind, and the mem,
ory Of a perfect girlface that he knows will
haunt him till he dies.