The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1909-05-12
I.
Dear Uncle Robert.

"Pull the blind downtown, I
say! Don't you understand plain
English, or are you grown more
stupid than ever?"
Enid Leslie started from her chair
hurriedly, and, with fingers that
trembled nervously, caught the tassel
of the striped blind; her action was so
sharp that the string broke, and the
yards of linen ran down with a jerk to
the bottom.
"Ah! of course, of course! More
breakage, more expense! Ugh: What
good are you, you poor, foolish,
white-faced thing? All you can do is
eat and drink to your fill, and run me
up bills at every turn"
The girls lips quivered and her
chest heaved a little.
II am sorry" she said quietly, al
most humbly.
Sorrow won't mend the blind"
was the sour reply. Here, go and
send Simmonds to me and keep out
Of my sight, for I am sick of seeing
you sitting there like the lump of
uselessness you are!"
Enid moved away obediently. At
the door she turned.
And the papers, Uncle Robert?
Shall L" she said.
Sir Robert Knebwell simply Shook
his stick at her savagely.
"Go!" he snarled. DO as I tell
you. Don't come near me till I send
for you"
Outside the door Enid stood still,
her two small hands pressed against
her heart, her eyes moist with the
tears she was too proud to shed.
"Oh, mother! mother!" was the
wailing cry Of her mind; 81 am so
weary, so wretched-so wretched
without you!"
She shut her lips firmly, as If to
keep the cry from forcing itself be-
tween them, and turning, walked
slowly along the dark yet wonderful
old corridor that led to the wide
staircase of Kneowell Hall. Past
many an ancient tapestry and warlike
accoutrement, past many a priceless
painting, did Enid go, but she looked
at nothing; such things were not for
her, the poor dependent on Sir Rob-
ert's charity, the lowly recipient of
Knebwell generosity; no, her lot was
very different. She traversed the
massive staircase and made her way
along a landing shut off from the
building by a green baize door till
she reached a room that one would
have little imagined-had place in so
magnificent a house-a poor, narrow
apartment, with no carpet on the floor
and furniture of a meager and varied
sort; yet Enid heaved a sigh of relief,
almost Of ~gladness, as she stood there,
with the door carefully closed, and
realized that she was in the one spot
that 70 her was equivalent to the joys
of home.
Enid, gazing over the summer
scene, sighed every now and then.
IF she could have been here and
have had this air, perhaps God would
have let her live" she said to herself
after awhile.
She was thinking Of her beloved
mother, the friend, the comforter,
the protector whom she mourned ev-
cry moment of the day. A vision of
= the poor, squalid life they had lived
came to her; of her invalid mother
lying on hard touches in dingy rooms;
of the poverty, sometimes the de-
spair; and yet Enid was happy then;
whatever i'll had come she could grasp
the frail, dear hand and kiss the pale
lips of the being who was gone for
ever Her deep blue eyes grew moist
and misty and a broken sob anne
from her throat again.
"Oh, mother! mother!" she cried,
and for a time the fair scene before
her was blotted out and all was dark.
But Enid was brave; she resolutely
dashed away her tears and rose from
her knees. To wall for her mother
was useless, since She could never
come to her child. 81 will do some
work" she said to herself, and she
moved to get her canvas.
AS she placed it to catch the light,
sounds of horses reached her from
below, and looking out he saw a girl
ride fleetly up the avenue, her mare
a mass of foam, followed by a groom
mounted on a chestnut that pranced
and fretted as it went.
Dorothy has been far to-day"
thought Enid; then as she glanced at
the groom she felt surprised at the
- difference between the condition of
the two horses. Al wonder where
she has been? Poor Princess looks
tired"
She stood and watched the girl slip
from the saddle, then, without a
glance at the mare, whose head
dropped and whose whole body quiv-
cred, gathered her skirts in her hand
and entered the house. 1t was char
acteristic of Dorothy Knebwell. The
horse had evidently served her pur-
pose we'll, but she had no spare grain
OF gratitude or affection to waste or
an animal; and as Enid watched the
groom pat and stroke the mare as he
took her back to the stables, her
heart swelled with pity and some in
%dignation.
Dorothy is cruel to dumb ami
mails" she said to herself as she sat
down and took her palette IN hand.
"She should remember they can make
no complaint"