The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1903-10-02
Lucy Wards Secret.
BY Helen Forrest Graves.



Pm sure / pity him." said Miss
Marcia McGregor.
so do L. said Priscilla Epping'
But, dear what's the use OF talk
ing? Men lays have been captured
by pretty face from the very begin
ping Of the world and they always will
BE-"
What a consolation It must be to
you, Miss Prissy," demurely interposed
roguish little cherry-cheeked Barbara
ingalls,, that you never, captured any
OF the men!"
1T is, indeed" said Miss Priscilla,
sharply. But never saw much to ad-
mire in Lucy Wards olive face and
great black eyes
"She is talented, too" added Miss
II McGregor; speaks French, and plays
the guitar. l should think it a deal
more sensible if she understood plain
sewing and knew how to cook meal.
And l wonder Walter Marsdens
mother and sister hadn't warned him
against so much mere outside show"
He's poor, too" struck in Mrs.
Jones. Nothing but his salary from
the bank, and that isn't much"
"And she has only five hundred dol
lars Of her own said Miss Epping
(''Well, we all know the old proverb
/ When poverty comes in at the door,
love flies out of the window
All this time Miss Meg Jamison had
sat in the corner of the Sewing So
ciety" room, stitching diligently away
with her lips compressed, and a world
Of unspoken meaning in her face. Bar
bara ingalls, watched her with spark
ling, amused smile.
DO speak out, Miss Mes" she said,
at last, "or you certainly will have
/ spontaneous combustion or something
equally terrible! What do you know
4 that nobody else dOes?"
1--WE got a sister that lives across
the street from the house where Lucy
Ward boards" said Miss Jamison,
mysteriously. lowering her voice.
do tell" chorused the maids and
matrons.
@e-nd there amt no shades to
Pm hVindows, nothing but Venetian
BstttiB," went on Miss Meg, "and every
week Lucy Ward writes long letters,
interesting ones they must be, too,
Mary Ann says by the way her face
lights up while she writes. And she'll
get up and walk about the room, and
press her hand over her forehead, as
if she was a-pickin' and a-choosin the
Asweetest words. And those letters,
mind you, is for a mani"
"How do you know?" almost
shrieked Helena Travers, who had had
'hopes" of Walter Marsden herself,
once before pretty Lucy Wards star
crossed the orbit of her ambitions.
Because I once picked up a bit of
a torn envelope in her room when
was in there fitting a dress for her,
an there was Esq on it,"
= @And does Mr.. Marsden know of this
correspondence" breathlessly de-
manded Helena.
"You may rest assured he Doesn't"
nodded Miss Meg. "Ah, she's a sly
puss, that Lucy Ward with all her
soft looks and her low voice, and her
appealing ways that the poor, deluded
men think are so pretty"
Didn't l always say so?" cried
elena umphantly. Haven't I al
ays declared from the first that mis-
4.usted that girl? Keziah Lamb, that
/. used to be music teacher in the semin
airy before Miss Ward came, was q
mature, reliable woman who wore gold
spectacles and walked with a crutch
and how the trustees ever came tt
appoint this fyaway girl of nineteen
l Gen't know"
II think some one ought to let Wal
ter Marsden know" announced Miss
Epping, solemnly.
Il think everybody would a grea
desA better mind their own business!
IA ded Barbara ingalls,, who, being
- 3 and pretty herself made com
mol cause with the aspersed Luc!
Ward. But nobody paid any atten
ton to this remark.
'TIl give Mrs. Marsden a hint
volunteered Helena Travers, with tht
oficious malice of disappointed rival
And Helena was as good as he
III news is proverbially rapid in it
transit, and one evening, when Wal
ter Marsden came home from the banl
he found his mother with a grav'