The Miller sun. (Miller, Hand County, S.D.) 190?-19??, 1904-07-20

1~%@ ~ $500 ~ stCf khah w ~ v
full, and SO | am sure is mamma al
though she win not say anything about
you: Archie frowns at me IL ever I speak
OF you, and mamma says she does not
wish TO hear your name mentioned again.
What can you have done, my darling?
nothing wilfully, | know; but, however,
just now. am writing more for mamma
than myself. She wishes me to say that
you have not written for any money, and
therefore have enclosed some. And be
sure and write to IRE. dear, and let me
know how you get on"
Then the letter concluded with a
touching reference to poor Ernest, who
was going on dreadfully, poor boy, and
who was breaking her mothers heart by
his silence and neglect. And in the let
ter are four clean, crisp notes, and a
few faded autumn flowers.
So the evening came when it was TO
be the last in the sh~abby-genteel house,
and the last, too, that she would ever
spend in the city.
What could have possessed Mrs. At
kins-but certain it is, that she was as
anxious about her beautiful lodger to-
night as il she were her own daughter.
She insisted upon providing an elegant
little supper this last night, sent up a
wonderful little glass jug of iced lemon
ade, and came herself, the last thing,
before Maggie retired.
And 50 you are going into Devon
shire? 1t is a long way off. Well, Miss
Duncombe, II ever you want a friend or
adviser, far or near, il you send to me,
| will come to you!"
And Maggie, remembering the letter,
and reading Alright Mrs. Atkins signii-
cant glance, says, with downcast eyes
and trembling voice, Thank you. Mrs.
Atkins; If | ever do want q friend hear
me, I will"
And now a new life opens for this
dark-eyed girl, and she is only a little
thoughtful, and does not dream that she
is going to her fate, as she looks out
of the car window upon the meadows
and fields and hills and valleys, bathed
in the hot sunlight on this autumn day.
She grows very weary before she
reaches her destination. There are no
passengers for Changmocr beside her
self, and so, presently, a tall footman
touches his hat and asks, inquiringly,
Miss D~uncombe?"
Maggie says Yes" smilingly, and
then he directs the solitary porter to see
the groom, who has brought the cart for
the lady's luggage, and escorts Maggie
to the carriage. touching his hat as he
shuts the door; and presently the high
melted pair are dashing through quiet
country lanes, and a noble park, up a
splendid avenue Of old trees, and, with
a dash, stop before the oak door Of the
old mansion.
There is a great rat-a-tat-tat at the
door, and when it is opened. the foot
man opens the door Of the carriage, and
offers Maggie his arm, with great respect,
as she descends. There is the same quiet
respect paid her in the hall, and pres
emily she is ushered into the drawing
ROOM, and a tail, slim, stately lady comes
forward. and says, Miss Duncombe, |
believer
Maggie very family replies in the aft
firmative, for she Is tired; and then a
fair-haired, blue-eyed girl comes eagerly
TO look at her. and a stately old man
stands smiling in tae background.
She is rested a little presently, and
then the tall lady suggests that she must
be tired, and would she like to gosto her
room at once, where refreshments would
be brought to her, to which Maggie Gag
erly assents.
They meet the next morning at break
fast, Maggie very beautiful in her pure
white, and very quiet: and the fair girl,
In delicate blue, a wonderful contrast to
her.
"Mr. Royston, Miss Duncombe," says
the tall lady, and the old man bows
gracefully and with a look of warm adj
miration. This is Miss Dacre, your flu
ture pupiI'-and the two girls simulta-
neously smile and shake hands-'and /
am Mrs. Downing. There is no one to
introduce me" adds the lady, pleasantly,
"and so I Inn obliged to introduce my
SELF And then she, too, offers her hand
to Maggie, and they sit down to break
fast in the pleasant breakfast room, with
it's low windows overlooking the park,
where the deer are feeding in quiet con-
! tent.
And so the day goes on. and, lessons
being over, governess and pupil wander
out into the glade, catching the sun
beams and shadows under the grand old
oak, and talking quietly and gently of
the old ancestral home.
They go through the conservatory, a
modern addition to the old mansion, and
| running along its western side, into
which open the drawing and reception
rooms, and linger among the flowers and
plants covered with red and blue and
purple blossoms.
Now, side By side. they look out Of
the windows, and Maggie admires the
oak summer house, with its pointed ga
bles and twisted pillars, curtained in
with green boughs from the grand old
tree under which it stands.
The two are very friendly, even in
this short time: and, By and By, May
Dacre is telling Maggie. with a conscious
blush on her fair cheek. that her cousin
/ RandaI ST John had devised the nreffv