The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1903-02-14
THE BITTER WITH THE SWEET.

81 do wish somebody would leave
us legacy" said Lena, "or 1 could
draw something in lottery"
'I'm sure you drew cigar case at
the church fair" interposed Anita.
II wish I could find a pot of gold
buried in the celler," persisted Lena.
"Im about tired of doing without it. !"
II don't think riches are half so
interesting as poverty, after all, " said
Anita. 1--WE get great deal more
excitement out of life than Mrs. Grun-
dy, for instance.
cts kind of excitement 1 could
exist without. Poverty is a trial.
You can't do yourself justice if you
are a victim. 1t keeps friends and
lovers and pleasure at arms length.
You might have done execution with
your voice if we had had money to
cultivate it. My feeble taste for art
might have grown into genius, and
Patty's beauty might have made her
fortune in society. One can't have
society, you know, when one is too
poor to entertain or dress, and has no
recommendation but a longing for
the far off, unattainable and dim.
my DEAR" said Mrs. Morris, who
was lying down with one of her
headaches, ''you are losing time
while you berate fortune, and time is
money"
but not legal tender" rejoined
Lena, turning to her sewing machine.
Patty said nothing. Perhaps she
was thinking her own thoughts, as
she sat with the German grammar
open before her. She was daily gov
erness in the family of the Hon. Caleb
Grundy, M. c. DIR. John Morris, her
father, had died some years before,
leaying an income which seaAld hard
He had left something else besides.
There were ledgers in the attic full
of unreceipted and outlawed accounts,
although some of the debtors and
their heirs drove in their carriages to-
day.
IT wish we had been born bakers"
said Lena, as the kneader's coupe
rolled by.
cor could invent patent medicine
for healing of the nations, suggested
| Anita.
Mrs. Morris laughed. "Do you
think Mrs. Grundy would ask you to
her musicale, though you sang like a
dying swan, if you figured as an in
ventor of balsams or bitters?"
"Old Mrs. Grundy had bad at
tack of her gastric trouble" said
Patty, waking up, "and she has a
new remedy which can raise the dead,
she thinks-Dr. Jays Bitters. Did
you ever try them, mammal"
"I've seen the advertisement" said
Mrs. Morris. And just then Rob
Marquand knocked and announced
that he had come to tea, exhibiting
score of little birds all ready for the
gridiron.
"See what mighty hunter you
have among you. Patty and will
broil them for tea-a dish for the
gods"
1t seemed to Rob as if Patty be-
longed to him as much as his own
soul. To be sure, he never made
pretty speeches to her, but he thought
she knew that he meant them. He
expected to marry Patty some day,
but just now he was too poor, so said
nothing about it. He was studying
architecture, and his uncle had agreed
to give him ten thousand dollars
when he had built his first house.
That was one Of his castles in the air.
1t would be time enough to speak to
Patty when the house was built.
Headache again, Mamma Nor
ris?" said he. "Try DR.. Jays Bit
tiers. Children cry for them. Aunt
Marcia's got a bottle-bitter as''-
pausing for synonym.
GAS poverty" said Patty.
eyes, bitter as poverty. I've tast-
ed both. They are a tonic to the
nerves they defy death and keep old
age at respectful distance.
"They must be the Elixir of
Youth, " said Anita. "Where do you
get them?"
CAT Mortar & Pestle's." And
then Lena lighted the double burner
and Rob produced his pencils and
paper and began making plan of the
"Marquand Mansion," to be erected
when his ship came in, asking Patty's
advice about this and that, about
closets, the pantry, the boudoir, their
two heads bent together over the
task.
"We'll throw out a bay window
here" he said won't we Patty !?
And we will have veranda for moon
light nights and balcony for whis-
pering lovers made And as long as
the materials are so cheap, I think
we will add on a conservatory, eh,
Patty? so you may always wear a
rose in your hair; and studio for
Lena at the top of the house." till
they were all offering suggestions,
and the mansion looked as if it
had broken out with an eruption of
fantastic gables, windows and wings,
and had become an anachronism in
architecture, where the style of one
era jostled that of another.
But it was not Rob who strolled