Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1901-09-26

MT iiCSu ItHSMdi-
i Il will do your hair in quite the
latest fashion" she said, and in spite
of Grace's protestations, she worked
her will, and the girl knew from the
feel of her hair that the couture
was an unbecoming one. Somehow Oh
other she knew it even more certain
! ly by the tone of Cons voice when he
greeted her He was sorry, very sor
ry, for her. but above all he admired
beauty. combined with good dressing
and when Mary, the housemaid, said
to her in tones of heartfelt admira
ton which could not be suppressed
But it's beautiful you are looking
Miss Grace, in that swate yellow
fichu," she knew what card she had
put into her rivals hands.
That yellow fichu was a dreadful
unhemmed. coarse muslin monstros
ity, which had been made originally
for the station children's theatricals
How it harmonized with her cherry
red satin frock she could well .imag.
inc, and she thought with sorrow OF
the dainty white Brussels net one
tucked away in her ribbon box. Per-
haps the bandage round her eyes was
a crumpled and unlovely affair. too,
though Mrs. Lance had assured her
that it was all right.
No wonder Con had received a
| shock. for even a pretty girl can look
ordinary" in unbecoming colors and
hair dressed unsuitably. So that when
Con politely offered his arm, with the
advice that a stroll would do her
good, she as politely declined and let
Mrs. Vance go instead. She felt her
way to the drawing room, and told
the servants not to disturb her-it
was so terrible to be blind, even with
the knowledge that it was only tenn
porary affection. Crash! Crash.
There, she had knocked over the lit
tie gypsy table that held her precious
pieces of Venetian glass and the
water from bowl of roses was sop
ping through her thin shoes.
How stupid she had been not to be
content to receive Mr.. Sylvester's
sympathetic messages at the hands of
Mary or Mrs. Lance, instead of giving
way to her feeling of loneliness and
coming out such a guy She could
hear the voices of her guests in ami
mated conversation in the vine walk.
A week ago she had been the moving
spirit of everything. If Jack would
only come back-dear Jack, who was
always so sensible, and who had ad.
vised her over and over again not to
trust Mrs. Lance, and who was pro-
longing hi. visit from home on that
lady's account. And then her thoughts
drifted to her old friend Donald Rem
nie-even he had deserted her.
There were hurried footsteps on
the veranda to interrupt her thoughts,
and a sudden opening of doors. Some
one was actually coming into the
drawing room unannounced and she
had been too miserable to take off
that awful fichu.
Oracle, my 1assie, can you no see,
my poor wee Gracie?"
90 Donald, is it you? o, am so
glad. You don't care how / look.
What made you come back? Who
told you?" cried Grace incoherent in
her sudden joy.
THE mailman it was who tod them
down at Parsons Rest that you were
having a bad attack of sandy blight. |
was nearly blind with it myself once,
and so | came back to tell you to be
sure not to take the bandage off too
soon, or else your eyes might be bad
a long while, and | brought you all
the new magazines from Mrs. West
with her love-" announced Donald
gravely.
What earthly use are the new
magazines to me? Are you going to
be heartless, too, Donald? Go away
again, | hate you, and that cat, Mrs.
Lance-and- and Mr.. Sylvester II
and every one There was a hysteri-
cal ring in Grace's voice which prac-
teal Donald did not fail to note.
Peace Grace Durie." he said lit
tie sternly, 'and rest on the sofa, |
will get Mary to bring in the reading
lamp with the big shade, and | will
read you all the stories. | won't be
Scotch"
20 Donald will you really? And
you only become Scotch when you
feel things deeply. After all I think
| really like the accent. ] must or else |
l should never have been so pleased |
when you spoke to me tonight"
"And you really mean that, Grace
Durie?"
IL really mean it. Donald Rennie,
answered the girl.a mischievous little |
note in her voice. Ring for Mary |
and the lamp; whatever you do, don't |
leave me, | am so tired of being |
alone"
Sweetheart, let me have the right |
to be always with you" and Donald |
took the girls hands in his own. you
know have always loved you, lassie.
Grace was silent for a moment. |
Then she said. "You used to. |
know, and | think / believe you, but |
let Mary bring in the lamp and turn
the light full upon me and ask me