Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-08-14

| -'Aoii "a eANANN' -
the whole-orphans trained differently,
Aunt Laura?''
And her aunt explained quite seriously
that the new assistant rector had some
| excellent ideas of helping the half
phans. that they might be of assistance to
the remaining parent, and might become
self-supporting at the earliest possible
| moment.
you see,'' she elaborated in ambiguous
plurals, eff they have mothers, they aren' t
often able to support them, let alone hav-
| ing them taught anything; and if they
have fathers they almost always marry
| again, and the first wife's children are
usually neglected 1t is most worthy
| object. and one 1 am glad to add to my
| list. Nothing, my dear MORA, is SO pa
thetic and helpless as an orphan
| THAT is quite true assented Mora.
| Then Aunt Laura remembered that she
really would have done much better not
to have made that remark. for the small,
pale niece sitting opposite her had been a
| half-orphan and was now bereft of both
mother and father.
Out of the west had come Mora, out of
| the golden state that she loved with all
her heart: saddened, bewildered by her
| fathers death, straight across the broad,
| and it seemed to her endless, continent,
| the train had borne her to the eastern
| gate, and here in New York she was
| beating the wings of her soul against the
padded prison bars of her aunt's ugly,
| comfortable home.
| AA
81 wonder" she said timidly. eff there's
any way 1 could ride this afternoon? I
think l would like
|
| cordially; Gertrude Tabot's girls go
| every Thursday and I'll drive you to the
academy. You can get horse there. and
| if you care to go often, your guardian
can select a nice gentle animal for you.
Why. the very thing, MORA! I'm glad
you spoke of it,
Mora was sorry The keen longing in
her heart had been for plenty of space, a
road. long road, and a something of
springy muscle, steady stride and ODE
dent intelligence under her; something
called a horse, not those mindless crea-
| lures the Talbot girls rode. Mora had
met the Talbot girls and she judged their
horses accordingly.
She went to her room and put on her
habit. crowding back the memories which
gauntleted gloves leaped from the gold
| knobbed crop with MORA scratched on
it in her fathers hand.
She looked very calm and sweet as
she met Aunt Laura in the hall below;
| And her aunt put up a lorgnette and
said in pleased surprise: "A really well
cut garment, my dear. And not made In
New York? Well. really
| Then they got into the brougham with
only the top of one window down; not
any air must come in on the side where
| Aunt Lauras neuralgia was and they
drove off behind the fat horses and the
Laura looked out and bowed to passing
| friends, but MORA looked straight ahead
| at the broad green coat Of Thomas.
Aunt Laura didn't say much. for she
tor and the manual classes for the poor
children. and what a noble work was it,
| and how glad she was that the Lord
had chosen her to help. and how We'll
concurred with the Lords choice, be-
cause Gertrude Talbot would have given
her very eyes to have been the chair
| man Of the committee herself.
4
So they came to the Riding Academy.
The Talbot girls were there waiting for
| them, and their horses were tanned,
trained creatures. correct in every ap-
pointment, as were their young mis-
tresses who expressed their pleasure in
They cantered out of the street and
| toward the park, in charge of two
grooms. Aunt Laura watched them out
of sight, and with sigh Of relief re-
entered the brougham.
The Talbot girls and Mora rode side
by side Jig. jig, jig. Jig. Jig, jig
This wasn't riding. 1t was pottering
along on horse, and she hated it. She
Itch ha made
polite replies to the Talbot girls in
quiries as to how she liked New York.
and she responded as gratefully as pos
sible to their hope and belief that when
| the day of her mourning should be
ended she could go forth in radiant
garments into that wonderful, fascinat-
ing land called Society, where one
danced and dined and received atten-
tion-here they glanced at Mora doubt
fully.
The elder of the Talbots told her sister
afterward that she didn't think Mora
would make much of hit with the men
(the elder sister was inclined to be lit
tie careless in her expressions when Off
guard, but the younger reminded her
that Moira's fortune was Of many fig
ures, and she added, honestly: "She has
quite a way when she smiles or speaks
Whereupon the elder recalled with I'M
pleasant distinctness a speech of one man
she knew-a most eligible man. 1t was
after he mad talked to MORA: Cad,
what eyes. You can't forget en-
1t was while they were riding sedately
UP by the river that some one on horse
back passed them. Some one whose hat
was pulled down over his eyes, whose
mouth was stern and whose whole bear
ing was a trifle reckless. MORA glanced
at him because he rode as she loved to
ride. She caught only the general out
line Of the man, and sighed enviouSy as
she jig-jigged along by the Talbot girls
But her face fell under his gloomy eyes,
and as faces do sometimes it photo
grarhed itself upon his vision; deveI-
oped and fixed as he rode along; pene-
trated his unpleasant reflections and
would not leave him.
X *
He shook his head impatiently as if to,
rid himself of something that prevent
ed him from returning to his thoughts
thoughts that weren't pleasant ones, but
which haunted, threatened, tempted and
reproached him.
Finally he wheeled his horse and gall
loped up the drive The three girls had
turned also and were cantering back, the
two grooms the right number of lengths
in the rear.
Moira's face had frightened a little.
The fresh air and the exercise even if
inadequate and in unsympathetic COM
pany, had given tinge of color to her
cheeks But she was lonely, desperately
lonely. Conversation with the Talbots
was dispiriting affair, carried on across
the high fence of incompatibility. Was