Waterbury evening Democrat., 1904-08-24

invitation. I refused at first, George; on my honor did, but father is in critical condition. The doctor told me not to worry him in the slightest, and he had set his heart on this affair to- night. The poor man loves such things with all his soul and he thinks Governor Telfare great man. He actually broke down and cried when refused it was pitiful to see his old gray head shaking with sobs over what he considered base ingratitude. Be sides, Kitty was included In the in vitation. She is my guest, and any natural girl would like to go to such an affair, and mamma urged it. Oh, George, do pity me. Don't-don't think I'm like the rest of the world, for I'm not. I hunger for better things, higher things, but in this case really don't know what to do"
 "Then"-he took deep breath, as if trying to fortify himself against a coming blow then you are engaged to Telfare?"
 NO; am not, George. Don't-don't question me so closely. I am not hap py I'-
 "But he looks upon this affair to- night as favorable to his suit Is that not trueT'
 "He may, George, but really don't know what to do"
 Buckley was as pale as corpse. He brushed his brow with a quivering hand.
 God knows have nothing to offer you,'' he said in a low tone "And it was wrong for me to thrust myself on you as I have done tonight. Your friends will laugh at me for my des- peration, but I don't care. Goodby. shall never trouble you again."
 "Oh, George'-but he had turned and was walking away in the darkness. She stif1ed a groan of pain, and then went into, the house. She saw her mother and Mrs. Dunleigh in the draw ing room under the prismatic chande- Her Tn close conversation, but she pass ed on and ascended the stairs to the room assigned to herself and Kitty. The latter was unfastening her hair before pier glass and came forward, her hands extended.
 Don't let it worry you, dear," she said simply.
 Lydia made no reply, sinking, pale and miserable, into a chair and cover ing her face with her hands.
 T say, don't let it worry you" said Miss Cosby. But. the whole thing makes me fighting mad.'H
 "Mad?" said Lydia, looking up d. most hopefully at the unexpected out burst. .a.
 "Yes, mad" said Kitty ''Why should that young god of man be kicked and sneered at by our world, forced to sneak around behind rosebushes mere ly to see the idol of his dreams step into her carriage, while a half bald, sallow faced creature receives her un- der palm trees, in the glare of electric lights, in the perfume of costly flow CTS and amid the plaudits of squirm- ing, low necked, white shirted mass of hero worshipers-hero worshipers, indeed! - when George Buckley, the kind of hero we know, is left out in the cold?"
 "Oh, Kitty, you are darlingw The color was running into Lydia's wan face. Her eyes were gleaming as they had not gleamed that night. But pa- pa? What about him? What would you do about him?'
 What would I do about him? I'd make him change his pills. I don't think he has any more heart disease than I have, aid mine Hops as regular as clock, except when George Buck ley comes near, with those big, dreamy eyes of his, Lydia Cranston, told your mother wasn't going to influence you either way, but if George Buckley