The Montgomery advertiser., 1907-01-27

volt Being doclle. and under the con stant training of a rotation of Hunter aunts and uncles (who Yaliantly tried to be father and mother to the orphan girI), Priscilla had given little cause for complaint. It might almost be said that she had given none at all were 1 1t not for the memorable six months iu her nineteenth year when there oc- cured, as Aunt Prudence Hunter ex- pressed 1t. that strange unfortunate affair with young Tom Henry" At that time, strange us 1t may seem, Priscilla had weighed a manly figure. a merry eye, sad an honest heart over against the Hunter name and tradi- tions and had found the latter want ing.
 It was then that the entFe Hunter family rose en masse. SucA a thing never was, never had been, never could be. For proof they dug into the past, cited the present, and made confident throws at the future, metaphoricaily thrusting family Bibles. heiriooms, and portraits into the culprifs face. It was @ stormy time; yet Prisciila-a Hunter in stubborn will if nothing else was still mutinous. Just what the outcome would have been Is uncertain had not Tom Henry shown--much to the Hunters surprise-a pride of his own, and betaken himself and his un- welcome attentions to rarts unknown. N It was easy after that. Priscilla, be- ing told that surely now her pride would rescue her, summoned the delin- auent to her aid and tried In very deed to be a Hunter. She was still trying. even though depleted in family and fortune, she was now merely Miss Priscilla, the seamstress." living in the third floor front Of a boarding house that clung to the outermost edge of her ancestral Beacon Hill.
 Miss Priscilla was not old, Her head was gray, to be sure--it had turned in her teens Yet. Miss Priscilla. in spite of her 40 years, was fair-facsd. pink-eheeked.- and hright-eyed. To. night, as she slipped her lukewarm tea. her cheeks were even pinker than usual.
 Miss Priscilla was "a musician. She could not sing. 1t is true nor could she play any musical instrument. save the piano-~and that only a very little; neither was she versed in the prinel- pies of harmony, But to her the whole world was symphony. and each part and particle thereof moved with its own peculiar rhythm. When she play ed, it was some such melody as An nie Laurie" or "Auld Robin Cray" and under her sympathetic fingers the old pldnO SOcIn0u tO ESueW us youth and breathe sweet, pure tones.
 For a week the violin strains, now grave. now gay. foated down the att tic stairway in the early evening. bringing untold joy to the lonely lit- tie woman below. Then suddenly the music ceased. For three days Miss Priscilla fretted in impotent silence, then she resolved to speak to Betty.
 "There is musician on the floor above. isn't there, Betty7" she began, a little breathlessly the next morning when Betty brought in the wood for the fireplace.
 An that there is," retorted Betty, cheerfully. An it's crazy hell be if he keeps on like this"
 "Crazy2"
 Sure, an what would you be if you couldn't play your fiddle an twas your Twin "
 But why can't he-play?" Miss Priscilla had changed hor position She was standing now by the table with her back to old Colonel George. the l foremost. the fiercest the Hunterest Hunter of them all
 .Rheumatia" retorted Betty. short i ly. He can't lift his arm that high
 "oh-h. poor old man slfuddered l Miss Priscilla. The "old" slipped In as