Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1909-08-06
CHAPTER VI.


.en and a reply had been received.
"When Ianthe writes to ask ne to
tale her from her fathers care" wrote
+he general, ct viii be time enough for
me to think of doing so. I have had
one letter from her. She seems quite
cheerful and happy"
Ianthe's letter ran as follows
.sIv Dear Grandfather: We arrived
quite safely and found this place all
Tight. was surprised to find that my
father had married again. However, Mrs
Macoueen is very friendly and kind. My
father is not so well off as / thought, so
our house is not very big. l have some
duties to do, both in the house and out
of it, for which 1 am very glad, as the
time would pass very slowly in the
town otherwise. Glasgow seems very big
and dirtv; | have not seen much of it
vet. | hope you are well, and that
everybody else is the same. l miss the
hills and the fresh air, but when the
weather improves l shall get out more.
With love-Your affectionate grand
daughter,
'TANTHE PATRICIA MACQUEEN."
This letter had been penned three days
after her arrival The three days had
seemed like as many years. From a life
of ease and luxury, Ianthe found herself
suddenly transplanted to one of constant
drudgery In the early morning she had
to assist with the work of the house,
for Mrs. Mcqueen kept no servant, re-
living upon herself and a woman who
occasionally came in for the day. These
duties performed, she had been intro
duced to the studio, and Mrs. Macqueen
had initiated her into the mysteries of
her work there. This consisted mainly
of interviewing customers, making ap-
pointments, advising as to the style of
picture, etc. Later she would be ex-
pected to keep the books, but in the
meanwhile her duties in the studio were
fairly light.
For the first few days Ianthe lived as
one in a dream She was utterly dazed
at this extraordinary mode of life, too
dazed to experience anything but sheer
physical exhaustion after the days work
was over and she had exchanged the
confinement of the studio for the greater
confinement of the house. She had
spent most of her days in the free air
of heaven, surrounded by lovely seen
cry. Now she was pent here IN durance
vile along with people with whom she
had not taste nor an idea in common.
She had not been a day there without
realizing that there was no real kinship
between her and her father. She felt
more sympathy with her step-mother,
who, whatever she lacked in breeding
and education, had kind heart and was
inclined to make things easy for the
girl at first.
you must hurry up sharp and learn
your duties" said her father the first
morning at breakfast. "There are no
drones in this hive, Ianthe. Your
mother has more than enough to do al.
ready, and there will be more by-and by.
know you have not been accustomed
to any wholesome employment, but here
things are different. You're with your
way, your grandfather said nothing
about giving you an allowance, l sup
poser
His quick, unsteady eyes met hers, but
only for a moment. The color rose in
1anthe's cheeks.
HE understood that you would pro-
vide for me-" she said
"Oh, yes, of course!" he answered with
VII uAShSy Ldugns
"Anthy will cost nothing but her
keep" interposed Mrs. Mcqueen with
her usual good nature. Indeed it is just
the other way round, FOR it's not only a
young lady in the studio, but servant
girl as well that she saves US. You
know we discussed all that before We
asked her to come"
She beamed at Ianthe, feeling that she
had set matters straight with every one.
lanthe's young face set in graver lines
than before. A dull feeling OF despair
was creeping gradually over her heart.
She remembered how her fathers letter
had seemed to her the call of affection;
she remembered how her heart had
stirred eagerly in response. And this had
been his motive-to save a young lady
IN the studio and servant girl. The
letter to her grandfather was written
with pain and care. Not for worlds
would the proud girl reveal one atom of
the sitting despair that overwhelmed
her' She had made her choice in blind
ignorance and faith that astonshed her
now, and by it she must abide. AS she
sat late at night in the tiny, ill-furnished
den she called her room, writing this
letter, her heart went hack with sick
longing to the home she had left. Only
week ago she had thought herself mis-
cradle, she had thought herself pris-
0ner, ill-used and neglected. If she had
been a prisoner there, in the wild, free
ar Of that lovely highland glen, what
was she here in this sitting city?
oh, if had only known a littlel"
She unused. "If had not been so dense
iy, darkly ignorant of life and all its
ways! did not know that people lived
IKE this. l knew nothing, nothing!'
The first tears she had shed since her
arrival came in blessed shower. and re-
heved the tension on her nerves.
must do the best I can" she re-
solved, "for this is the only life that is
left for me now"
Six months passed away. BY the end
OF that time Ianthe was proficient in
her duties. 1t cannot truthfully be said
That she cared for them any more than
she had done at first, or that she quite
-