The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1903-11-29

member Dick Stone merry. But Mar
gerry died when Dolly was born. and
he's been a glum man ever since"
How was it that she didn't love
him." asked Mr.. Jones, who was ever
interested in the country tales, and
could not have enough of them.
We'll, sir. twas that good for naught
Jack Trelawney that won the maid 5
heart. You'll have heard of him, per-
haps, in the town. They say he's great
~ talked of and that the prince can't
live without him, and is the finest of
gentlemen. that was poor Susan Ire
lawneys child. Susan was a harmless
woman, and knew a .al about herbs
and such like, and was downright set
on that child. as though she had to
make up to him for giving him no IA
Their. A handsome. proud boy, and none
of us wondered when squire Alvanley,
after he had buried Master Hugh. took
Susan's child to rear him as a gentle
man.
If he had had his rights. said Mr..
Jones. gIoomiIy. he could have lived
at the place as the AIvanIeys did. an
honest country gendeman's life. Twas
late atonement of the 'squire's."
Your honor has heard the story
"A man can't be long at Rosegariand
without hearing of the AIvanIeys and
the last of them. who is botte-hOlder
TO the prince and has no name. although
the town cuts its coat by his and fears
his trown more than God Almighty's.
A poor thing to have come to. the arbi-
ter of fashions. the oracle OF assembly
rooms. the autocrat Of pettieoats and
periwigs The AIvanleys were soldiers
and sailors and statesmen.
They say he is brave and good
hearted" Mrs. Lumley said. wondering
at NJ Jones heat And the prince
loves him."
He has a few foolish feats to his
name He rode his horse, poor beast
up the steps of his fathers town house.
and leaped from him 10 the window over
coachful OF ladies. He walked to Je-
rusalem for a wager and played ball
against the walls Fine doings. surely
IS for the prince why. if it comes To
that. Jack is no worse than his master,
but rather better. His love is a poor
thing. that no man. or woman. either.
has much the better Of
why, that is true" said Mrs. Lum-
ley, thinking on the princess. who if
she was light. had been iltreated-
The grass grows up to the windows
of the Place" Mr. Jones went on, with
the sane gloomy air The peacocks
are dead that used 20 scream on its
terraces, the basin where the goldfish
swan is broken and the water dried up.
The gardens are a wilderness; the
rooms molder TO decay A goddess lies
on her face by the steps Of the han
door"
You have seen the Placer"
II went there yesterday. The old
chimneys between the fresh green Of
the trees made me curious. And so this
nl-fated brat Of the AlvanIeys brok~ q
sweet country maids heart"
He forgot that ever he'd broken a six
pence with her when Squire Alvanlsy
being childIess. remembered Susan Ire
Iawney's son. Twas no worse than that
your honor
And Margery's child lived?"
Ks good and bonny 2 maid as any in
the county Many lads go counting at
Redstreak Farm, for all that Dick
Stones not such good company"
few days later Mr. Jones came back
from one of his long, solitary walks, and
entered the kitchen of The SpNtted
Lamp" with so blithe a step that IDS.
Lumley. who was making cowslip wine,
looked up at him in wonder.
Your honor has liked the walk?' she
said
1T is land Of apples and roses" he
said. and / have drunk milk from the
hands of Hebe herself. { should be a
sour fellow 10 complain. "
Your honor looks well on it, Ten
years have rolled on your age since
the day the Flying Mercury left youI
honor at my door.
why, I have been bathing my face
IN May dew. How old would you take
me TO be. Mrs Lumley? Fifty? Forty
hve2 Forty? / am no more than forty
and 1 feel young enough for a bride
| groom TO a girl of eighteen
After that he would break into
snatches Of song as he moved about the
house that brought a smile TO Mrs
Lumley's lips. for she had grown fond
Of her lodger-
Dolly's neck Is white as curds,
With a golden freckle or two;
Dolly's voice is like -he birds
In the pastures. in the dew.
polly laughs with Prue and Phyllis
And her laughs a shower o. lilies.
Lord. what a pretty song, sir!' she
said once. And your honor's self has
a voice like a birds. You sing as II your
heart was in IT"
The song was made" said Mr.. Jones
"ou a milkmaid that was the sweetest
thing the songmaker had errr seen
/ She was taxing butter from a churn and
her arms were stripped high above hel
elbows, and icy were white as tbs
milk She haG head Of black curls