The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1909-09-07

had looked more than once upon the
signature as if therein might lie the
key to the mystery.
The feminine guests who were wont
to sit on the veranda rocking their
chairs from the first of June until the
middle of September, discussing social
events and comparing husbands and
incomes, now had a new theme. Who
might Miss Astor be? What was her
past? Why did she so pointedly avoid
the Monday night card party and shun
their sacred circle?
"Any one can see," said Miss Her
relia Morton, person of doubtful age,
whose family consisted of two brindle
bulldogs, "that she has plenty of
money and-and that she's very young
to be travelling alone"
But Miss Astor continued to keep to
herself, in spite of her intuitive knowl-
edge that she was doing herself no
good in the eyes of the porch brigade
by doing so. She slept late the first
morning, climbed nearby mountain
at sunrise the second, and on the third
day she set out in search of blueber-
ries.
1t was on the fourth morning of her
stay that Harry Davis, a young and
wealthy lumberman, was strolling
through a lonely lane not far from
the hotel. All at once he heard a shrill
cry, and at the same moment he no
ticed riderless horse leap over the
fence.
Rushing quickly to the spot whence
the sound had come, he beheld some
what frightened, dust begrimed young
woman. She had been picking berries
when the runaway horse dashed
through the bushes and frightened her.
She gave vent to a little cry at the
sight of Davis, and as he offered her
his strong arm to assist her she looked
into his eyes. She murmured her thanks
and wondered at the fiuttering OF her
usually well behaved heart.
Much as Davis disliked the average
wealthy girl and the summer resort
type Of young womanhood, he became
greatly interested in Miss Aston
Though he had intended to spend only
a day or two in the country, he found
himself postponing his return indef-
nitely. There seemed to be so much
to talk about. there were so many
places round about the hotel that Miss
Astor never had seen, and, altogether.
lie found the time passing far too
quickly.
The tongues on the veranda began to
wag vociferously. Fond mothers who
yearly spent small fortunes at summer
resorts trying to find eligible partners
for their daughters longingly wished
that these same daughters had golden
hair and appealing blue eyes. While
| their daughters sat in detected twos
and threes wishing vainly that they
might travel alone, Miss Astor and
| Harry Davis wandered here and there
| in utter oblivion to it all.
On the very day on which Davis
had decided in his own heart that he
loved Marguerite Aston and could not
be happy without her he received
telegram urging his immediate return
| 20 the office. Business that could not
be transacted by his subordinates
called him home.
He sought the girl and told her what
had happened, asking her at the SANE
time to go for a last walk with him.
In her simple white frock and with
her shining golden hair coiled softly
upout her head she waited for him un-
der the great tree in front of the hotel.
She was hatless, but she carried par
asol dotted with tiny silk rosebuds.
Even in their envy Of her the men,
bers Of the rocking chair feet could
not help the admiration that forced IT.
self into their glances as they beheld
her. She was indeed pretty.
Davis and Marguerite strolled along
the country road listening to the birds
and to the steady click-click OF a
moving machine in a field near by
For a time they walked in silence.
neither one finding words to fit into
the exquisite tranquility Of the scene
At length they came to running
brook and halted by it's side. They
stood on the bank gazing into the mir
ror-like water AS Davis studied the
reflection of the girl in the brook be
fancied he saw her brush away tear.
He turned suddenly toward her to
make sure. He sought her eyes and
saw within them unshed tears. With
a fervent cry. he stepped toward her.
Marguerite shrank back nervously,
historically. IL can't" she said,
looking into his outstretched arms. Il
IL have deceived you. ! am moth
ing but an impostor! | am not at al
what you think I am. r But sne
could say no more. She burst into
sobs and covered her face with her
hands.
Davis, abashed, drew back for mo-
ment. Only the girls sobbing and the
whispering of the wind to the leaves
all about them broke the silence.
'sTell me-" said the man very softly
at last.
sYou see," said the girl, her face
turned from him, II am not Marguerite
Aston at all-Pm only Mabel Arndt-
and l work for a living. | haven't