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

malu, enters hllS room III II SOintWHdb IllyS'
terious fashion. Gancing all round the
room flrtiyely; as though expecting an
enemy lying in ambush behind every chair
and table, she says in a low, cautious toae,-
"A letter for you, miss"
AS she says this, she draws note from
beneath her apron, where, in herright hand,
II has been carefully hdden,-so carefully,
indeed that she could not have failed to
create suspicion in the breast OF a babe
For e.! says Kit, off her guard for once.
Eyes, 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 we'll 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-
Ilre. 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."
Brdget-wbo, like all her countrywomen,
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, insinuatingly. AN
faix." waxing confidential, II think caught
sight of the coat-tails of Misther Desmonds
man outside the yard gate
you should never think on such occa-
sions, Bridget; and coat-tails are decidedly
lo,c," says the younger Miss Bercsford, with
scathing reproof.
They weren't very low, miss. He wore
one o them eut-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 in the world for having
helped me once, come 10 YOU again. How
am / to pass this long day without a glimpsJ
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 moments hesitation, she
scribbles an answer to Desmond
1--WE are going toward Ba'lyvoureen this
afternoon, TO take pudding TO Old Biddy
DAILY; any one Chdnchlg to walk there also
might meet us. Count upon me always
hit"
This Macchiavellian episte, which she
fondly believes to be without its equal in
the matter of depth, she folds carefully,
and, inclosing 1t in an envelope void address
or anything mark the astutancss Of MdtD,
calls TO Bridget to return to her.
"YOu will find the boy you mentioned as
being by birth a Madden" she says, austere-
", "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 by Kits
eloquence that the latter's heart sings aloud
for JOY.
Yes, MISS" she says, in very suhducd
voice, and goes away with indignant haste
to tell cook, as she pa 'Ses through the ki.ch-
ell, that "Faix, Miss Kit might be her owr
gran mother,-she is so Ould an Quare in hcl
ways
Kit meantime goes i'm search Of Monica,
with mind stored with crafty arguments
for the beguiing of that unconscious maid
Ell. Hearing voices in the morningroom,
she turns in there, and finds the whole
family i'm cOnclave.
Miss Priscilla is speaking.
Yes, | 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 and Strawberries
and little stroll round the gardcnS-eh:
And, Penelope, you used to be great hand
at claret-cup in our dear fathers time; and
then there is tennis. l really think, you
know, it might be done"
''ls there going to be party here, Aunt
PriscillaY' asks Kit, with enlarged eyes.
'Well, my dear, we are debating the pos.
sibilities of it,-juSt the pros and cons" says
Miss Priscilla, precisely. "YOur aunt Pcne.
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 Priscilla'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, Kitl-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 il you don't wish it; but
II is true, for all that. When is it to be.
Aunt Prise
Next week, suppose" says Miss Pcne'
lope, promptly, seeing that Miss Priscilla il
still too agitated to reply. And think,
perhaps, it would be rather nice to have tea
in the orchard"
"Oh! how quite too loyelyv' says Kit
clasping her hands.
quite too utterly, y,cOnsummately precious.
ly intense?' mutters Terence, soto roce re,
gardng Kit sideways, who returns his rap
turous glance with one full of inelrable dis
dain.
II hope Michael won't object" says Miss
Penelope, nervously. Michael is sle gar
dener and they are all, 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 con
slider there is great fault to be found with
him. Long service should not generate neg
ltCl. anu VI lilC Jiltic mas llot OCtli 81 S'O'
lettuce or respectable dish of asparagus in
the garden"
"There wasn't even any thyme last week,
says Kit, who maintains an undying feut
with Michael. ''He had to get some fresl
plants from Cahrmore."
".Time was made for slaves" says Terence
meditatvely. you aren't slave, are You"
Il should hope not, says Kit, Jelly.
"TheD yo can't want time; 80 don't wor
ry that poor old man iii the garden about it
He hasn't scythe, or bald head, CT dis
NAL forelock; so lie can't know anything
about it,
"You are so clever" says the younger Miss
Beresford, with unmiXed scorn, "that lwon
der something dreadful doesn't happen tG
YOU"
In