Democratic Sentinel, Volume 12, Number 50, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 January 1889 — ROMANCE ALL ROUND. [ARTICLE]

ROMANCE ALL ROUND.

Pretty Polly Clifford paused a moment on her way home from school to look at’ the picturesque old mansion of Holmsby' hall. The owner was traveling in Europe it was known, and Polly thought what a J pity it was that such on elegant home should be given over to spiders and mice. As she stood there a young man stepped!, out of the copice and addressed ber. ■ “I think 1 have lost my way,” he said. ' “I found the bal| locked up and deserted; 1 could you tell me the way to Holmsbor-! oughr “ With pleasure,” she replied, with attempted dignity. “I hardly think they expected you so soon, Mr. Holmsby. ” i The puzzled expression in his face gradually died away. “And who is this, ittle fortune teller who has divined my past and present?” with a smile. “I am the district school teacher, Polly Clifford, and as Holmsborough is some' distance away I am sure my brother will be glad to receive you at our little cot-' tage." “I hardly expected to recive such courtesy,” bowing, “but as I am tired I shall gratefully accept. Perhaps,” with a' smile, “when I am settled in the hall I ! shall be able to return your hospitality. ! Polly’s simple heart fluttered as she led the young heir home in triumph, and with ambitious thoughts in her curly head.

Jabez Clifford and his rosy-cheeked wife looked rather surprised wlien Polly entered with her prize, but when they were introduced they gave the guest an old time welcome and prepared a nice little supper for him. While the stranger was recounting his travels to the farmer Polly ran away to tell her sister-in-law the circumstances of that romantic meeting. > “Wasn’t it singular, Ellie?” she asked as she hurridly twisted a rose-colored ribbon through her curls. “And—oh, Ellie, if I should be the lady of Holmsby hall I Don’t yoh think he’s handsome? And isn’t his voice low and deep and sweet, just like Edgar Ravenswood’?. And— ’’ “lie’s well enough,” said Elvira, as she lifted the steaming tea-pot off the coals of the kitchen fire; “but he Isn’t as good looking as George Bird." “George Bird?' cried Polly, contemptuously. “A mere pink and white dandy!’’ “For all that,” persisted Elvira, “there’s a disagreeable look to Mr.. Jlolmsby’s eyes and a sort of sneer to his lips. But come, Polly, tea’s ready now.” Mr. Holmsby made himself exceeding ly agreeable that evening—so much so that even Elvira was converted to a more favorable opinion of him and little Polly sat with pink cheeks and glittering eyes listening to his eloquence. “Isn’t he splendid, Jabez?” she cried, when at last the guest was invited into the “best chamber.’’ where there was a “store carpet” on the floor, and the snowy linen sheets smelt of sweet clover and dried rose leaves. “lie’sa smooth-tongued fellow enough,” Jabez reflectively-added. “But I don't exactly like the way he talked about some thimrs.”

“That’s because you haven’t traveled in Europe,” said Polly, disdainfully. She rose early the next morning and dressed herself in her prettiest blue al-' paca, wearing ribbons to match the color of her eyes, and a late rose m her belt.' Breakfast was waited for Jabez, who had been dispatched to the village store for white sugar to take the place of the everyday brown that was in the cupboard. Presently Jabez returned, flushed and breathless. “It beats all!” he exclaimed, setting down the cone-shaped brown package ou the table. “Do you know, Polly, Holms-] by hall was broken open yesterday after-' noon and all the silver and linen stolen! And—” “And I can tell you who did it,” sai/1 ■ Mrs. Elvira, jumping woman-fasbion jo all immediate conclusions; “that youikg man up stairs with the smooth tongue aha the disagreeable droop to his eyelids, i Don’t stand staring there. Jabez, but /un up this minute and see if he hasn’t slipped off in the night, taking the whole sidle of the house with him!” Jabez made haste, accordingly, while Polly and Elvira stood looking mutely at one another, as pale as the bleached da- ■ mask table-cloth that was the pride of the latter’s housekeeping, and in a minute he came down again. “He’s gone and so has Elvira’s grand- ’ mother’s silver cream-jug that was on the mantel, and the money but of the broken ihina match safe that I put under a pile sf linen sheets, and my best Sunday suit, and Elvira’s black silk dress. “No, no, wife, don’t cry,” he added, kindly; “as !ong as he has left you, an J the baby, and Polly, we won t fret. Only, Polly, with a good-humored twinkle in his eyes, “youmust be a little more careful'about the I company you invite home with you.” And Polly’s tears were tears of genuine mortification at this unlooked for ending >f her enthusiastic dream of romance, and oefore the summer was over she was glad io become the wife of George Bird. |