The Republican journal., 1912-02-22
KITTY'S RETURN.

She trailed slowly Gown the stairway
in her Velvet gown. 1t was peachy
hued, with old lace at throat and wrists.
She moved with an indolent grace, anG
held her head, with its heavy masses Of
dark hair, trifie haughtily. The Grim
son lips were unsmiling and the eyes,
deeply blue under the long lashes,
looked Instantly cold.
Sherrod, watching her as she came
slowly down to him, felt contraction Of
his throat, and a sense of disappoint-
ment, vaguely accusatory. She re-
minded him, in her new stateliness, of
an old painting he had seen in an art
gallery in Florence, The Warehouses"
the velvet gown. with its clinging folds,
accumulated her graceful slenderness
and the long train lent dignity to her
little figure. Sherrod caught his breath
as he watched her, hungrily. He had
not remembered that she was so beauti-
full. She had always been to him the
very essence of all that was lovely and
gracious ana sweet, and he had known
her beautiful. But he had never pic
tured her with this regal air. He felt
bewlldered and, somehow, defrauded.
And then, just as she reached the foot
OF the stairway, she caught the tail of
grace, out of her way and ran to him
laughing. Her blue eyes now were soft
and shining and the lips began to CULVER.
"Oh Billy" she said, with a little
catchy sob in her voice. IL Just
couldn't carry it off wanted to punish
you for your horrid letter, but when |
saw you standing there in the self same
spot left you two years ago, with the
selfsame condemnatory expression, l
seemed to hear you saying, in the same
old way: Kitty, you naughty girl!
Aren't you ashamed of your self" And
instead of its putting me into a~towering
rage, as it used to, IL rather liked it,
Billy! 1t seemed so like old times be-
fore-before things changed So"
He did not say anything. He held her
off and looked at her gravely, with his
love shining in his eyes, and she turned
away with crimsoning cheeks.
Billy she said, as she led the way
into the drawing room and seated her
self in a carved chair, with due regard
to the disposal Of her draperies. ''Billy,
you don't know how funny it seems to
me to come home to find you minister,
And such a great minister, too. Do you
know what old Ned told me, when he
drove US up from the station? He said,
La, Miss Kitty, Massa William, he
dis one of desc show huff highfalutin
preachers, an he sho do seem to be
blessed wild de sperit, but some way
faint natrel!"
Sherrod flushed hotly, and essayed to
speak, but before he could she had risen
and moved impetuously toward him.
Billy There were tears in her
voice. 81 didn't think how it would
sound to you! l did not mean the least
dlsrespect to you or your calling-you
know that. to me, as to old Uncle Ned,
you cannot seem natural as anything but
just Billy You know that | couldn't
mean to hurt your"
She was looking at him winsomely
and Sherrod held the little hand she ex-
tended just for moment.
1t does seem strange to you, l
KNOW he said, and his voice sounded
cold, even to himself, and she sank
back IN the chair, with a somewhat
frightened air, like chided child. ''Tell
me what you did in England. So you
have decided to become duchess?"
She twisted ring slowly about her
finger, watching the stone sparkle, and
he followed her every movement with
hungry, fascinated eyes.
L
renounce me? Don't you think English
people are nice?"
II think. Americans are nicer" he
said. 81 think I'm nicer than anv
Englishman know, don't you?''
Il think the last letter YOU wrote me
was horrld. 1t reminded me OF the way
you used to declaim in the schoolroom
and point out all my folles. Somehow
you We're always so sure | was going to
90 something frivolous and objectionable
that 1t seemed to be pity to disappont
you, and so | always did | mean, |
always let the inevitable happen and
gave you the pleasure of saying 1 told
you so.
Sherrod was smiling. my, what a
daysy' " ''''~'
You were horrid! Who told YOU I
was going to be a duchess? B1ll-would
you rather | called you William or Mr..
Sherrod?'
Who told you l was in Kingston,
Kitty?'' was his reply.
Aunt Elizabeth. Here is what she
twrote me: Willie Sherrod is here. F"
She read from a sheet of paper she drew
from her gown. 1" He doesn't seem to
have any more sense than he had as
youth, but he is disgracefuly handsome.
His mother wants him to stay here and
settle down like a reasonable human
being. Anna thinks she could buv him
church and congregation Just as she
used to buy him box of books or polo
pony. But John says he has kicked over
the traces and is going out to the Yukon.
Anna always was rather managey, and |
can't much blame him. Though, for
that matter, she has had to put up with
enough from him, heaven knows. They
say she turned Episcopalian on his ac-
count. | wonder her old father don't
turn over in his grave. You know, nv
dear, what my opinion of Willie Sherrod
has always been. | was afraid at one
time you would turn idiot and marry him,
but am glad you have inherited some
of the Withheld sense as we'll as money
Though, goodness knows, l hope YOU
won marry pauper, like most foolish
women with a little cash. That is one
thing-the boy is spending his money
like prince. l suppose he wants to see
how fast he can get rid of what his poor
father delved for. And so he is building
tenement houses-tenement houses in
Kingston! Ism t it ridiculous? rent
ing them for almost nothing to the poor
In town, who prey on him like so many
vultures. 1t won't be long before his
money is all gone, and for nv part
think 1t just as bad to disslpate another