The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1910-03-02
~ M
Il 7ACABOuD HEROINE
ST. By ANNIE EDWARDS. y:
BY ANNIE


~ ID NSAN
protest against the intruder now pro-
flaming the sacred throne of the Cas-.
tiles. How f%ervently every painter
must hope that no political revulsior
will send graceful m%alcontents back
to the trailing skirts and towering
head-gear and ever-changing millin'
ers' modes, each one more inartistic
than the last, of Paris and London.
"They are not exactly bad-look'
ing" says Rose, glancing about her
coldly; mot quite such an orange vel.
low as I expected. But their style is
~distressingly theatrical, is it not, Mr.,
JONES'"
Rosie has come to the Casino ball
we'll escorted; Mr.. Jones, who is also
staying at the Hotel Isabella, on one
side, her legitimate slave-I mean
her future lord and master-on the
other. Captain Temple" she says
to Roger, you say you think these
creatures handsome! How would
you like to see any one you cared for,
any English woman, dance in public
with a bare neck and short skirt, as
they do?"
THE short skirts display admir-
able ankles, Rose" replies Roger.
Are introductions necessary in these
parts Of the world, I wonder?
should like to tempt my fate with that
little blonde in pink satin, if I dared.
Or will you waltz with me yourself,
Roster" In a whisper, this. For
the sake of old days, my love! We
have never waltzed together since
that night-you remember?-at the
Hanover Square Rooms"
But Rosie, a good many years ago,
gave up round dancing, finding that
exercise, indeed, physically incompati-
BILE with the maintenance Of a waist
of twenty-five inches. She enforces
her position now upon the very rigid
est moral and esthetic grounds.
II never waltz, on principle, Roger.
I do not approve of fast dances. I
think it the worst possible taste for
a woman who has experienced the
serious sorrows of life to take part
in such ~frivolity. But dance, pray, if
you like. Think of your own amuse-
ment, not Of mine. I understood that
we came here to look on. But it does
not matter. Nothing matters. Amuse
yourself! I dare say Mr.. Jones will
not mind having to take care of me
while you are away"
Tears are in Mrs. O'Shea's eyes,
and Roger, of course. remains.
Though she will not accord the OBJ
j%ectionable pleasure of waltzing to
her lover, Rose see no evil in an oc-
casional mild Irritation or two on her
own account. Augustus Jones is her
devoted attendant. Augustus intro
duces ere long some other young
Britons, much of his W stamp,
picked up at the table d'hote of the
Hotel Isabella. Rose is "sur-
rounded" Frenchmen and Spaniards
turning to look at the passee pretty
English woman as she smiles and
chirrups, and casts up her eyes with
all the well-considered airs and
graces Of mature coquetry, at her
loud-talking young compatriots.
Roger takes himself quietly off
among the crowd. Finally he reaches
the end of the room that stands open
to the seashore, goes outside for a
breath of cooler air, probably not
without dreams of a copsolatory pipe
under the starlight, and finds himself
face to face with his future daughter.
What, Belinda, my dear! Alone
in the dark and no partner? Let me
take you in to Rosie"
Not if I know it, sir! I come
here to watch the amusement of my
betters, not to show myself. Think
of Rosie's face of horror if I walked
across the ballroom to her like this! "
holding out a fold of her ragged
frock with a gesture in which there
is to the full as much pride as hu-
mainly.
Rose is much too klnd-hearted to
take notice of your DRESS" says
Roger. "All Rosie cares for is to see
other people made happy"
Him. I see you are an excellent
judge of character, Captain Temple!"
And then she could Introduce you
to partners-I take it for granted
you like dancing? Rosie has got hold
of some young men from the hotel,
who would, l am sure, be only too
happy"
ITO take pity on my forlorn con-
dition, if my mamma did her best to
make them! Captaia Temple, do
you think seriously ! would dance
with any of those hEsrible English
snobs Rose is talking to-"
"One of those English snobs is the
rich Mr.. JONES'" says Roger, strok-
ing his mustache, and remembering
the lesson in matchmaking he re-
ceived before dinner from Rose. Il
thought Mr.. Jones wa3 an admirer of
yours, Belinda?" he aids, looking in
quiringly into the girls upturned
face.
AN admirer-I suppose Rose told
you that? AS if / went in for admir-
ers-I! Do I look al; if that kind OF
rubbish was in my line of life?"
Roger hesitates. His heart goes
out toward this poor neglected child
and sweet, implorins woman's eyes;