The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1910-02-02
CHAPTER III.
LIGHT Welded, Light Widowed

Light Welded, Light Widowed.
st. Jean de Luz is awakening from
its afternoon siesta; by the time, an
hour later, that the Paris train ar
| rives, every nook, every corner of the
quaint little Basque town is full OF
life and color.
AS 6 o'clock strikes, a carriage
draws up, with the extra ftourishinS
of whips indicative Of new arrivals
to be fleeced before the Grand Hotel
Isabella. Walters, chambermaids,
mine host himself, all come out, sa-
tanning, to secure their prey; and
forth steps an elegant fool of the very
first water-English, and Of the sex
whose helplessness is its charm
upon the pavement.
Mes bagages-ou es mes bag
ages" signs a soft voice in that curl
out language known as French in sub
urban boarding schools, but unintel-
ligible south of the Channel. Dix
bagages, touts actresses, and a piece
of blue ribbon on each. Dix, ten
oh, would anybody make them UNDER
stand! Dix" Holding up ten help
less. lavender-gloved fingers. Real
ly, Spencer, I think you might try to
be of some little use"
At this appeal another elegant fool
(but of second water-a cheap copy
of the first), steps languidly forth
from the carriage. She, too, is ad-
mirably helpless, and she, too, speaks
a tongue incompreheisible out of Eng
land; the polyglot smatter of adver-
Using abigails who talk three Ian
guages with ease, and are willing to
undertake any duties, not mental,
while on the Continent"
They address themselves to the
host, to the walters, to the coachman.
Nobody understands them; they un-
derstand nobody. eff I had only be-
spoken BeIinda!" signs the lady pite-
ously. IF you had had the slightest
consideration, Spencer, you might
have reminded me to telegraph to
Miss O'Shea."
The words have scarcely left her
lips when a knot Of little lads, Eng
lish and French. shoulder their way
along the street-lads from abouc
eleven to fourteen, sunburnt, dare
devil looking young Arabs enough;
barefooted, most of them, and with
paume rackets, or schisteras as they
are called, in hand. At the word Be
linda" the foremost of the gang
turns, and nudges the boy who comes
next. They all stop, they all stare;
one of them gives a low, meaning
whistle across his shoulder, and in
another second or two Belinda ap-
pears upon the scene, her battered
hat more battered than when we saw
her first, two hours ago; the flush Of
heat and victory on her brow, her es-
padrillcs 50 kicked to pieces that how
they keep upon her feet at all is mir
aculous. Belinda. like her associates.
schistera in hand, with Costa, who
has been rolling in the dust, and has
a more disreputable look than usual,
at her heels. She passes along, whis-
thing, forgetful of Mr.. Jones and their
quarrel, of Roses letter and threat
ened arrival, forgetful Of everything
except the game of paume she has
just played and won, when suddenly
the elegant fool number n looks
into the girls face and, electrified,
recognizes her.
What, Belinda, can that be you?"
What, Rose, arrived already"
How dirty she isl" mentally.
How painted she is" Gall but
aloud).
And then the ladies kiss: hugely
to the entertainment of Bellnda's
comrades, who have certainly never
before beheld Miss O'Shea engaged in
any Of these feminine amenities.
To be Continued.
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