The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1913-05-02
TIE EVENING STORY
Ladies of ShaIott.
(Ry Martina MEG. william

| hundredth time 1.-The Spectator
The fire was nearly out. the room
| growing chilly-damp. Ludnilla shiv-
cred family as she answered, 81 won
| der-how it would feel to live where
things really happened-every day"
! You'll keep on wondering-we shall
! never know Beth said bitterly. She
| went to the hearthside, fumbled in the
! woodbox, found nothing, made feint
| OF putting together the brands feebly
| smolder:ng, then sank into the easiest
/ chair, holding her hands toward the
| smoking pile, and running on: There's
a law against burying folks alive-after
they are thought to be dead. wish
we could change it-seems to me it's
| wickeder to bury them fully alive
| t'Hush!" Ludmilla interrupted. BE
thankful we are alive. Think what it
| must be to -
Don't throw old Miss Julian at
me- Beth broke in rebelliously. I'D
| take her chances-wheel chair, hump
and all-rather than this life of ours
| that isn't life at adjust going to
bed, getting up, eating the things we
can afford and all the while pining
for those we can't afford, never hav-
ing anything new-not even a book.
We have OF take our turn and the
library makes US wait f1endiShly-never
going, nor seeing, nor doing anything.
She can do just what she likes-and
could go too, if we had not been born
Alstons," curdling emphasis on the
name. Il wish we were Smiths or
Browns, or even poor white Tiptons. |
They do at least go to camp meeting, |
get religion every summer, lose it eV- |
cry winter at the Christmas dances |
and have the fun of getting saved all !
over again.
Ludmilla looked at her cousin, her |
gray eyes unfathomable Beth sat up |
fro inO
After minute Ludmilla half whis- |
pered, II ought to scold you-hard- |
butt can't. For that is just how 1 |
feel nyself-so hard I think shall |
run away before long
1t was Beth's turn to gasp. Lud- |
milla was always the leading spirit.
She herself in her widest rebellion
had never more than toyed with the
thought of escaping into the big hust-
ling world. They had the farm, the
old house in which they had grown
up, and very little money outside
of it. Mrs. Aston, LudmilIa's step
mother, managed everything - and
ruled with hand of iron. She had
a life home with them-together the
three could manage a decent if bare
privation for the others.
In her own grabbed way Mrs. Al
ston loved the girls-Beth rather more |
than her stepdaughter-but she would
women grown-rising 90 pretty, and
spirited. Since they could not go about
as became AlStons, nor hold their own
in proper company, she had decreed
they should stay at home, as solitary
almost as nuns, going among their
poorer neighbors now and then on err
rands of succor, but never in the least
havong social touch with them. I
A faded beauty well born but DOVER
less, Mrs. Aston had married late,
nd oil a exria |
she had been widowed within five ,
years, just as she had helped her hus-
band free himself from debt. She {
would have helped him thrive if only /
he had lived-hence her grudge against
Fate. Soured, hopeless, she was con- {
tent to live sequestered, making not {
the least effort to give her charges the
social outlet their youth demanded. t
Marriage for them was indeed the
thing she dreaded-it would mean +
would be sensible and accept Willard {
Teesdale, whose farm adjoined theirs, {
and who, having lost his house by fire
and his wife by fever, would be glad i
to live with them, and mage every i
thing. i
Ludmilla hated this sole suitor-he was '
perhaps the real root of her impulse to :
run away. AS Beth stared at her there
came a knock at the front door-his
knock, Ludmilla thought, frowning. She c
had the greatest mind not to open the n
C.
She always afterward believed. And 6
there, in the dripping swirl outside, she b
saw two strangers, both young, one tall,
one short, gentlemen by outer evidence n
yet weary and chilled to the bone. b
we are lost-and our hopelessly |
stuck. Will you tell where to look for
help?' the tall one said, barring head in
spite of the pelting rain. Nv
Ludmilla cried impulsively: Come in
to the fire-the fireplace, rather" with a Ii
glance at the feeble remnants smoldering II
there. "
Beth had darted outside for wood She
came in with her arms full of dry hick- Il
Dry. The short fellow took it from her r
almost forcibly, said ALLOW me-" and set n
10 fire-making with art and relish.
Flames soon 1eaped royalty up the big =,
they did not brighten the in .
erior more than this something happen q
ng frightened the faces of the young | v
" omen. G.
Ludmilla reckIess1y fetched wine and
.ake-it was late afternoon-she guessed IL
he strangers were hungry. Mrs Aston (,
vas aSleep-heT household took pains not
o wake her. Inside half an hour the big
living room was a scene of decorous
sayety.
Move lack a phone" Ludmilla was q
aging. apologetically. And there is no, a
1phrum comes to milk. Then it will be F
90 late to think of going on, over our II
Dads. So you must content yourselves to
tay until morning-then 1 daresay Mr.. re
who is taking my name in vain?" 81
'eesdale called, half angrily, from the al
DOR. NJ
He had come in the back way, without w
as was his disconcerting habit NJ
.udmilla presented him to the strangers
hey were Tom Mclean and Joe Ethrfdge al
Thom the countryside knew well by repu- a
alton. Although they lived cross county, il
heir college pranks were the talk of it. ell
'eesdale frowned at them covertly-sure We
4 his own mind that the breakdown was 81