The citizen. (Honesdale, Pa.) 1908-1914, 1912-11-15

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tried not always successfully, to hide
the kindly impulses Of her heart She
was n lady OF many violent dislikes
and few equally violent friendships.
Later In the evening she found John
alone on the western porch staring UP
into the sky. The prophecy of the
mornings red sunrise was about to be
| fulfilled: 1t was evident that storm
was brewing.
"Steve Hampden," Miss Roberta re-
marked In carefully casual tone, "is
home And Katherine" she added.
"Yes?" negligently.
You go and call on her. Go to-
night"
cant. have"-he yawned-"an
didn't sleep much last night Won't
sne keepl she seemed healthy enough
the last time / saw her. Regular lit
tie red headed tomboy, she was"
she mightn't stay long Miss
Roberta's tone implied that this con
tingency would be little short of ca
lamitous. And Warren Blake is dane
ing after her already"
Dear Aunt Roberta, Warren never
in his life did anything so frivolous as
dancing. Why are you in such hur-
ry to have me fall in love?"
II don't want you to grow old and
grabbed and-and lonesome-like me-"
"Why-why, Aunt Roberta, didn't
know you felt that way. You mustn't,
you know" he said gravely, and pat
ted her hand aTectionately, from
which unwonted demonstration she
hastily snatched 1t away.
He laughed. There's time enough
for mating anyhow. I'm only thirty;
and, besides, what could l offer a girl,
even If were 20 reckless as to fall In
lover
Yourself" Miss Roberta could not
entirely repress a hint of pride.
Those spectacles you're always los
ing must be rose colored. I'd want to
offer something more than myself,
Aunt Roberta-something Of achieve
ment that would prove my worth.
couldn't love a woman who could care
done something, them
Il know what you're thinking, John
ny. Don't go into politics"
I've got to. l don't want to go all
my life as have done. drudging along
for a little money, drying up In the
routine, my outlook narrowing. I'd
have nothing to show in justification
OF my living. Why, I'd be no better
than Warren Blake, Aunt Roberta"
One might, by a stretch of the i'm
agination, have called the sound Miss
Roberta emitted a laugh.
Across Main street from the court
house square-scene of Daniel Web
ster's famous speech. the war time
demonstrations and the annual rally
stands a red brick, white porticoed
mansion in the style we distinguish as
colonial This house was built in the
early thirties by Thomas Dunmeade,
founder Of New Chelsea, then in his
eightieth year, a period Of life when
lis thoughts should have been center
cd on heavenly glories but were, in
fact, bused with the cares and vani-
ties Of this world
Thomas lived Just long enough to
install himself in the new house Then
he died in an apoplectic fit following
choleric denunciation of Andrew
Jackson. The title to the house de
scended to the pioneers son, Robert, a
| NJ arta Uh q fnun6nT'
of the -four mills, brought commercial
consequence and as congressman for
one term the honors of craftsmanship
to the town of his nativity. His son
was Hugh. the soldier and later the
Judge Of the house OF Dunmeade.
Miss Roberta and John were sitting
under tree in the front yard. 1t was
Sabbath afternoon in New Chelsea.
81 wonder" mused Miss Roberta,
chow Steve Hampdsn liked the ser
mon?"
, "He probably wasn't listening"
Warren Blake walked home from
church with Katherine" she remarked
significantly.
} "She was there, then%
"Didnt you see herT'
81 heard the stir when she came In;
but. strange to relate. / was more In,
: terested IN the service, and forgot to
look her up after church"
"Why won't you go to see her."
John rose with a sigh OF resignation.
"Aunt Roberta, you are woman OF
one idea. see / shall have no peace
: Of mind until I've paid my respects to
this gilded lady. ] go"'
He could never repress a smile when
he saw the Hampden place. Almost
within the span Of his memory its evo,
lution-it was always called ''place'
keeping pace with it's owners for
tune, had been wrought The first
house on that site had been a five
room frame cottage. built lust before