The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1902-12-11
"Give my love to auntie," Agnes called

| "Give my love to auntie," Agnes called
after her, sweetly.
June did not reply or so much as turn
her head, which she held very straight up
| in the air. She would not condescend to
linger even when she got into the road, be-
ing possessed of that strong instinct of
self-respect which prevents a proud WON
an from seeming to make the smallest adj
vance to man. She had not, however,
gone three hundred yards before she
heard rapid steps behind her, and in an
other moment, Tom, flushed and breath
less, was beside her.
"Why did you go without saying good
by to me?" he asked, reproachfully.
at is late. and mamma will be waiting
answered June; not that she desired to
screen Agnes from Toms displeasure, but
because her dignity forbade her to tell him
how she had been hurried away.
II can't tell YOU" he said, with immense
emphasis, 'how utterly delighted | am to
get back"
Il am delighted" answered June, smil-
ing up in his face.
"And have you thought" trying to
check his eagerness-"have you thought
whether-whether you could give me
hope?
"You promised" returned June, flush
ing little and affecting an air of dis
pleasure, mot to say another word about
that for at least six months. Tell me
about London. | am sure you must have
seen plenty of lovely and charming women
there to make you forget all about me-
"There was not one who could hold
candle to your swOre Tom, with fervor.
By this time they had nearly reached
the rose-covered cottage where June and
her mother lived.
"May come in and see Mrs. Rivers|
he asked, and June gave permission.
Then they went into the house together
A lady rose from a low chair as they en-
tered the little drawing room-a lady
whom one had no difficulty in recognizing
ms June's mother, although her eyes and
hair were several shades darker. She
was rather tall, with an almost girlish fig
ure. but her face had worn and suffer
ing look. For the moment, as she greeted
Tom. this died away in a SMILE and, for
his part, he looked almost as pleased to
see her as he had looked at sight of June.
as it you, Tom?' she asked, in voice
that was own mother to Junes. What!
tired of London already!
"Yes," he answered, heartily. Il have
come back, and never was so glad in all
my life to get away from place"
But my dear boy, what does your
mother sayT
"She isn't extra pleased, but she saw
shouldn't do any good, however long l
stayed. I'm not fit for London life. l
hate it! 1t makes me feel like bird in
cage. 1t is getting late" remarked Tom,
though he was dreadfully loath to take
his leave. I'm afraid must be going
II wish we could ask you to stay" said
Mrs. Rivers, ''but our modest little tea
would be very poor substitute for your
dinner"
Tom did not say how fain he would
even go without dinner to stay another
hour in the company that he loved; he
had delicate instincts; he was afraid of
putting these dear women, of whom he
was so heartily fond, out of the way.
Il am coming in the afternoon" he told
Mrs. Rivers, and added: Il have brought
you and June little reminder from Lon
don"
Tom babe lingering good-by and walk
ed off with a buoyant step and light
heart.