The Courier. (Genoa, Nev.) 1899-1904, 1901-12-20
CHAPTER XIV.

"Come this way, Mary. I'll show yol
your chamber. It's right here next to
mine," said Ida Selden, as on the evening
of her friends arrival she led her up to
a handsomely furnished apartment,
which for many weeks had borne the title
of "Mary's room"
"Oh, how pleasantp' was Mary's excla-
nation, as she surveyed the room In
which everything was arranged with such
perfect taste.
Mary was too happy to speak, and,
dropping into the easy-chair, she burst
into tears. In moment Ida, too, was
seated In the same chair, with her arm
around Marys neck. Then, as her own
eyes chanced to fall upon some vases, she
brought one Of them to Mary, saying,
'See, these are for you-a present from
one who bade me present them with his
compliments to the little girl who nursed
him ON board the Windermere, and who
cried because he called her uglyp'
Marys heart was almost audible in its
beating, and her cheeks took on the hue
of the cushions on which she reclined. Re-
turning the vase to the mantelpiece, Ida
came back to her side, and, bending close
to her face whispered: cousin George
told me Of you years ago, when he first
came here, but | forgot ali about it, and
when we were at Mount Holyoke / never
suspected that you were the little girl he
used to talk so much about. But a few
days before he went away he reminded
me of it again, and then | understood why
he was so much interested in you.
wonder you never told me you knew him,
for, of course, you like him. You can't
help it,"
Mary only heard a part of what Ida
said. Just before he went away" Was
he gone, and should she not see him af-
ter all? A cloud gathered upon her brow,
and Ida, readily divining its cause, re-
piled, "Yes, George is gone. Either he or
father must go to New Orleans, and so
George, of course, went. Isn't it too
bad? | cried and fretted, but he only
pulled my ears, and said he should think
I'd be glad, for he knew we wouldn't
want a six-footer domineering over us, and
following us everywhere, as he would
surely do We're he at home"
Mary felt more disappointed than she
was willing to acknowledge, and for a
moment she half-wished herself back IN
Chicopee, but soon recovering her equa-
nimity, she ventured to ask how long
George was to be gone.
Until April, believe" said Ida; ''but
anyway you are to stay until he comes
/ for Aunt Martha promised to keep You
| don't know exactly what George said to
her about you, but they talked together
more than two hours, and she says you
are to take music lessons and drawing
lessons, and all that. George is very fond
of music"
The next morning between 10 and II
the doorbell rang, and in a moment Jen-
ny Lincoln, whose fathers house was
just opposite, came tripping into the par
lor. She had lost In a measure that 10
tundity of person so offensive to her
mother, and it seemed to Mary that there
was a thoughtful expression on her face
never seen there before, but in all other
respects she was the same affectionate.
merry-hearted Jenny.
II just this minute heard you were
here, and came over just as was" said
she. After asking Mary il she wasn't
sorry George had gone, and If she ex-
pected to find Mr.. Stuart, she said, II
suppose you know Ella is here, and
breaking eyerybody's heart. Of course