Jasper County Democrat, Volume 2, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 January 1900 — AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AN AMERICAN GIRL ABROAD.

BY WILLIAM BLACK.

Z CHAPTER 11-(Continued.) When w« got tt>e tw<» women bundled on board, disappointment was not the mood in which they took possession of their new quarters. They were simply delighted with everything; could not nxprews their admiration of ail the cunning little arrangements; inn&t- needs ransack the pantry, and overhaul the cooking apparatus; were astonished at the convenience and snugness of the berths; and then, when it was intimated to them that; the forward, when hot required’ for meals, was to be their own especial boudoir, intb which meaner members of the jeompany might occasionally be admitted on invitation, you should have seen how naturally .Queen Tita began to roll up the red silk bfinds of fire',small windows, so as to kt plenty of light Ip, and Miss Peggy, tuliirfg her |>a£jo froju its Case, at <jhee‘ found a book‘where it could hang? ' “Well. 1 do think this is very comfortable,” says the elder of them. “I call it .perfectly charming,” says "the younger? ‘ • “I am sure we are very much obliged to Mr. buncombe where is he?” And she cries: r'AVhv, I declare we’re moving:” There could be no doubt of the fact; for a glance out at the; forward window allowed that we were lasing towed across the river Jjy a small laiat pulled by two mep. And of course the tWo women must noeds see the start; ami a» that forward window was found to open on to a space of deck at the bow*, they had no difficulty in getting out there, and commanding an excellent view of all that was going on. „ Where was Jack Duncombe all this time? Why. he whs steering. He was responsible for all the arrangements of our setting forth; and his air was serious, not to say important. He had neither word nor look for the women folk; ami they, of course, knew better than to talk to the man at the wheel. They humbly looked on us lu? got the boat close to the bank, and. springing ashore, proceeded to get ready the toWirig line. We made a sufficiently pleasant start, after all; and glad enough were we when the vibration of the long, tight line and the swishing of water at the bows told us we were really off. It was a cheerful morning, too; for if there was no positive sunlight, there was a white glare of heat; the birds were twittering everywhere: the swallows skimming and darting over the.surface of the silver river. Of course this was rather a well-known panorama that was now gliding silently by—the Surbiton villas among their abundant gardens—-with here and there a boating party embarking, and here and there a rose-red sunrfiade visible tinder the young green of the trees; and, indeed. some of us may have been wishing that we could gyt the Thames part of our voyage over and done with, and set forth upon less familiar waters. It was nearer eight than half-past seven when we reached Staines and found,a safe mooring for the “Nameless Barge.” The labors and’experiences of this our first day were over, and we went ashore in a placid frame of mind. The twilight w4s darkening to dusk now; but the thrushes and blackbirds were still piping everywhere. Dinner ordered at the old familiar Pack ohe or two of us went out on to th* little balcony overlooking the river. The evening was very still. There was a enriotif metallic gray on the surface of the stream; and as we stood regarding it a sihgle bronze-hued boat went noiselessly by, floating down with the current; and in th? stern of the boat, sitting very close together, were two young people, who might have been ghosts gliding through the mysterious gloom. ‘flloesn't it remind yon of thoee nights in ’Venice?" says Miss Peggy, rather abseatly. And then, behold!, far above the darkness of the trees, there is the young moon, of a pale silver, in the lilac-tinted skies; and in the closing down of the ni£ht the birds are still calling.

CHAPTER 111. It is early morning—calm and dear; a pale sunlight lies over the green landscape; the masses of foliage are mirrored on the smooth waters of the stream. There is quietude on board this gently gliding boat; for Jack Duncombe has gone ashore to walk with the driver; Murdock is in the pantry; the two women are also within; and the helmsman, left solitary at his post, has little to do but listen to the universal singing of the birds, and also to look out for shallows. But the quietude is suddenly broken; a woman appears—a small woman, apparently half inclined to laugh, and yet as fierce as a bantam. “And what do you think of yourself now?” she says. “I am pretty well, I thank you,” is the properly civil answer to this polite inquiry. you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” “But I am." “Why do you do it, then?” “Do what?” “Oh, of course you don’t know how you were going on lust night—both of you. In all my life I never saw two human beings make such an exhibition of 'themselves. I wish you could have seep yourself, and her too—’’ continues thi| wildly imaginative and wholly unveracioua person whose testimony the MjWI reader of these pages will doubtless estimate it, its proper value—“the underhand tk iking,A-yes fixed On eyes, the sniggering at small jokes that no one else to hyaj-. tljen the prt :ty dear must give you that litjtie boi quet of pansies, !qnd, of course, you couldn't‘pii It dfi'fdr'ywttwctf', Oh. no, a n>4i’s.,i&g|»nd«na eitmwy; hn4< of ' coi rse, she 'mustoiw Lo do.jr for 'yon, Wnr ie tfolug if; ; ... ..... ■

I wish someone had knocked your two heads together. Then comes out the cigar cutter —oh, yes, she saw it in Paris, and thought the combination ofsSilver and gold rather pretty, a>. I had your initials engraved on it; and, of course, yop can’t be behindhand whey it is a question of love-gifts; you go and give her the silver penholder you have had for years, and that you promised to Edward --—” “Wlint’" - “The, boy would ha ve prized it, and treasured,it all his life; and that minx will throw it away, or give it to the first young numskull she finds in her train. I do wonder that yien will make such idiots of thgjnseU’esH-for nothing but'a pretty face. !A smooth cheek a!nd a pair of baby eyes- that's enough. Don’t you see that she Jis-. inqrely playing you off against Mr., Duncombe? It's all done to pique him. That's the way she begins. All those secret confidences- and the attention she pays to your slightest word and all her unblushing coquetry —that is, all done to tantalize hijn. That cigarjcMtvr; she has had di ever since she eg ml over from Paris; why did she wait till jast .night before giviqgdtito you in that tnarked way?” i “1 suppose -young ladies have a right to open their portmanteaus when they please?” “At. all events, you needn'Uiencohrage her in her mischief- Oil, I saw your tricks! That’s a very pretty one you've taught her of looking into each other’s eyes while you're clinking wine glasses. Pledging friendship, I shppoxc! Friendship! Ami then that stupid old |Conundrum What kind of weather represents an animal? Rain,, dear!--of course youasked her that just to be allowed, to' call her dear, I could see what was going

“Doubtless!” ■“And mark my woi'ds. as soon as she has provoked Mr. Duncombe into paying her attention—as soon as she-has got him in a fair way of becoming her slave—l wonder where you will be!” “Where, indeed! With the snows of yester.veat'. But in the ineahti'ine, while heaven vom-hsafes such mercies, one mustn’t throw thorn away, don’t you see?” “Hriaven! It's very little you know about Peggy Rosslyn. If you think that heaven has anything to do with her.” Just as this atrocious sentiment has been uttered, there is suddenly heard the tinkling of a banjo within the saloon—-a careless strumming, apparently to test the strings. Then we hear a girl's voice, also quite careless; ahd we can just make out something about “My old Kentucky home far away.” The next instant the door opens, and Miss Peggy, without her banjo, but radiant, ami fresh as a wild rose in June, and smiling content with herself and all the world, comes out into the daylight. Then says the smaller of the two women: ’ “Look here, Peggy, no one seems to take any notice of Mr. Duncombe, though lie is working so hard for us. He has been quite by himself ever since breakfast. What do yon say—shall wo go ashore nod walk with him for a bit?” “Please, I wanted to be shown how to steer,” says I’eggy, timidly. “And consider this, Miss Peggy,” says a third person present, “you’ll be coming to Runnyuiede very soon. “Not the real Runnymede?” she says, quickly, “The actual and heritable meadow where the barons met; and you’ll see the place where King John waited on the other side; and the island between, where Magna C’harta was signed.” “Now heriven grant me patience, for they’re at their English history again!” says Mrs. Threepenny-bit, apparently to herself; and then she opens the door behind her, and calls: “Here, Murdoch, wme and get ready the ganglward; I’m going ashore.” It was at the entrance to Windsor Home Park, where we were charged ninepence for permission to pass along this portion of the river, that Mrs. Three-penny-bit and her companion came on board again.

By the time we had got through the lock at Cookham and poled across to the riverside inn there the dusk had fallen, and orange rays of light from the windows of the comfortable looking hostelry shot through underneath the ancient yews. A good-natured boatman guided us to convenient moorings, which seemed to Im? just outside somebody’s garden, for we were imbedded among bushes and overarched by tall trees; and then we began to Light our lamps and candles, and to draw together the tiny red window curtains, while Miss Peggy helped to lay the cloth for dinner. Jack Duncomlie slung a battle of wipe over the side to cool; Mrs. Threepenny-bit apportioned the napkin rings we were to retain during the voyage, and so forth; and presently Murdoch’s welcome appearance summoned us to our seats.

Now, when four people are dining together, nothing is easier than to keep the conversation general; but when you have a young man who is rather anxious to be brilliant, and who nevertheless will constantly address his hostess, evidently expecting the other two to listen, then perhaps. the other two may be driven, in self-defense, to talk by themselves. Moreover, when you have two and two talking, courtesy demands that you should not speak loudly, for you might anuqy your neighlmrs. Besides that, Miss Peggy was telling her immediate companion of her experiences of camping out in the Adirondaeks, while she and her mamma were staying at the Sagamore Hotel, on Lake George. Miss Peggy’s eyes said more than her words when she was challenged to make confession. And it is to be imagined that the presence of one young lady—of rather attractive appearance, and just a little bit inclined to be mischievooe—among' tfaoae idling yohhg men did‘wot tend much to the ration of a g^nerou^,«Qod-fie#loiwphip L; fiife >erse!f.y course gave qujtf £ different ».n----son Tor the breaking up Pr tjie camp. She sM<F the ybung lhim'-were simply crowded otit. i It appear* that they iuaed •» . .it ..

were within reasonable distance, giving them what little refrt'shment was procurable. But these festivities proved popular; neighbors invited neighbors; all sorts of people came unasked; and the Climax was reached when one tall native of the wilds was overheard to say to another 1 stranger: “Be them nuts free?” That was Miss Peggy’s story of the breaking up of-the eamp; but there may have been other reasons for those young men forsaking their forest life and going sadly ajvay back to their homes in Brooklyn and New York. In the midst of all this Qneen Tita is heard to exclaim: “Well, I declare! Look where he has hung that cigar cutter! That is a pretty kind of thing to wear at one’s watch dhain as a charm!” “Madame,” observes the owner' of. the article in question, “for once you. are right. It is a very pretty kind of thing to wear as a charm. But, supposing it were not, what then? Have you lived all these years without discovering this—that it is not tire character of the gift, but the interni«n of the giver, that is of imporance? Isn't that so, Miss Peggy?” “Why, of course it is!” says Mias Peggy. boldly, but with her eyes “Oh, indeed!” she says, tupning'tjo the girl. “And you? I siipose you will hate, that sflVer pencil-case mohnted and'hiade into a brooch?” i , < Peggy looks tip, daugbihg hut defiant. "Why hot? 1 think it would do very well, and be such a new idea* Why, the British jeweler’s injaginatiou neyer gets heypnd a butterfly or a luorseslw. You Should see Tiffany’s. And then Lhe dressmakers are all for making yop so squareshouldered .nowadays; .tn objong brooch at ydtlr neck would suit very well.” Mrs. Tomtit, cowed, balked, jumped upon, outstared, exterminated, can onlyturn tfnd say to her Companion, With a sigh of resignation: ’ 1 ' "Did you over hear such braten impudence?” “I am afraid you goaded Miss Rosslyn into It,” he says, with a smile which is meant to carry peacemaking all round the little board. Well, we sat late after dinner; for everything was very sting and comfortable; and two and two make excellent companionship. Of course, that arrangement did not always exist; for occasionally Jack Duncombe, with a humility we had never before -seen him exhibit, addressed Miss Rosslyn direct; and always she listened to him attentively, and with grave and courteous eyes. The next afternoon, when we reached Hehley, we stopped to bait the horse there, and We all went ashore; and, of <*ourse, for the sake of old associations, made our way to the Red Lion, the front of which wits one magnificent mass of wisteria in full blossom, a sight worth coming all the way to see. It was while we were having tea in the well-known parlor overlooking the river that Jack Duncombe made these observations: “We shall get to Sunning to-night; and I have been thinking that if Miss Rosslyn would like to sec a capital specimen of an old-fashioned country inn, we might dine at the Bull there. Not the White Hart down by the riverside—that is beloved of cockneys—hut the Bull that the artists who know the Thames swear by. It won’t be exactly like dining at the Bristol; but it will be a good deal more picturesque. What do you say, Miss Rosslyn?” Miss Rosslyn. who has taken off her sailor hat (thereby graciously revealing to us all the beautiful masses of her goldenbrown hair) and is twirling the same on her forefinger, makes answer very prettily: “I am sure whatever you all think best will be best. Everything has been delightfully arranged so far; it is like a fairy dream to me. So don’t ask me to give any opinion, please; it will be much better to leave it in your hands.” When we arrive at our destination and walk up through the little village to the Bull inn, there is just enough light t.O give our young American friend some vague idea of what the place is like—the quaint, old-fashioned building of brick and timber, with its red-tiled roof, its peaked windows and small-paned casements, the creepers trained up the wall, the large orchard on one side of the house, the row of tall limes in front. Inside there is another tale to tell; for we have made our way along the uneven flooring of the corridors and stumbled headlong into the apartment where we are to dine; we find that lighted up by a cheerful blateb of lamps, and everything looking very snug and comfortable indeed. (To be continued.)