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$1.00 a Year, In Advuca. . FOR OOD, FOR COUNTRY, AND FOR TRUTH." ' - ' Slajle Copy, s CentJ.
VOL. XIII. PLYMOUTH, N. C, FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 1903. NO. 49.
' " 1 k 11 1 . ,,,,..-- - "r
, CINDERELLA'S SISTERS Ai
1:J -' -THE
Showing How a Miss Hopeful Came Within an Ace; of Playing Her Cards
Successfully, to the Disadvantage of Her Elders.
I
F over there were two disa
greeable, hateful, tyrannical
old maids on earth, those two
are my step-sisters,- and you
know it, Miss Reade."
Miss Reade looked uncpmfortable.
"As your governess, you know, Ella,
I ought not to listen to your remarks
on your sisters " she, began, ner
vously. "Step-sisters, please," snapped Ella.
','Oh, Miss Reade, if you had only been
here before they came. It was so
nice."
"Didn't Ihey always live here, then?"
asked the governess.
"Oh, dear, no. Their father died
twenty years ago, when Laura and
Theodora were six and eight years
old, and when mother married a year
i later, Mr. Newton's mother took them
to live with her. Then mother died
two years ago, and father said I wasn't
old enough to take charge, though 1
was fifteen. So as old Mis. Newton
had died, a year or so before, and
Laura and Theo were staying with
their father's sister, -father wrote and
xasked them to come here. They've
done nothing but Interfere with me
ever since they came. You haven't
been long enough here to find out yet,
but you will soon. The idea of taking
that book away from me."
"Well, you know, Ella, dear. It Is
not quite a book for young girls; but
bush I hear Miss Newton's voice.
Do go on practicing."
The door opened, and a tall, grace
ful girl entered. She looked as , much
younger , than her real age as Ella
looked older, and no one would have
guessed her to be more than twenty
three or four. She ; looked very pale
find there were tears In her eyes and
a quiver in her voice as she addressed
the governess.
"Miss Reade, I have Just had a .tele
gram to tell me that my aunt has
baa a paralytic stroke. My sister and
I are going, to her with the next train.
Will you kindly take charge here? I
will give you all directions if you will
come to my room. Ella, you will ex
plain to father, dear, and be kind to
the little ones."
All was bustle and confusion for the
next two hours, and then the sisters
drove off to catch their train from the
junction.
"It's too annoying," cried Major
Leigh when he arrived later in the
afternoon and was met in the hall
by E.'la. eager to tell him the news.
"Just exactly my luck. Why couldn't
their aunt take ill at some other time?
What on earth shall I do? Write and
put them off, I suppose."
"Put who off? Have you asked any
body down?' asked Ella, who was ac
customed to her parent's Incoherent
style of conversation.
"I met two friends in town to-day,"
explained her father, "whom I haven't
seen for six or seven years, and I
asked them down for some shooting.
I suppose I must put them off." '
"No need for that," answered Ella,
with a toss of her head. "There are
plenty of good servants, and Miss
Reade can order dinner and chaperoue
me. Who arc your friends, father? I
suppose they are quite old."
"They don't think so," said the Ma
jor with a grin, "though no doubt you
will. They are some years younger
than myself, both on the sunny side of
forty. It's too bad of the girls," went
on the Major, absently, and half for
getting his auditor. "I always thought
there was something between Dot and
Ashby, and it would do very well now
that he has conie into his uncle's prop
erty. And Conrtenay's always talking
about his ideal woman. I wonder what
he'd think of Laura. Run away, Ella;
I wasn't talking to you. Go and tell
Miss Reade I want hep."
Miss Reade was a weak and foolish
woman, who, being incapable of ex
orcising any control over her strong
s willed pupil, managed her by means
. of gross flattery and unlimited Indulg
ence. She was writing in her own
room when Ella ran in to tell her of
the expected visitors.
"And I shall have them all to my
self," cried the girl, exultantly; "with
no sisters to keep me in the back
ground; no hateful Laura to look ma
jestically at me if I venture to speak;
no detestable Theo to snub me. I look
quite grown up, don't I, Miss Reade?"
STORY OF THEIR
"You are grown up, dear," replied
the judicious governess. "You look
quite twenty. And seventeen is a mar
riageable age, you know. Wouldn't it
be fun to steal a march on your sisters,
and get married to one of these gentle
men?" ,
"Wouldn't it? And the point Is,
Miss Reade, that I believe, father asked
these men down to meet Laura and
Theodora I won't call her Dot; so
absurd to- keep up baby names when
she is so old. I mean to have some
fun with these men. Wouldn't it be
joily if I were to marry one?".
"It would indeed," Miss Reade as
sented. "It is a distinct leading of Providence
that the sisters are away." laughed
Ella. "If they were at home I shouldn't
have a chance. I should be kept in the
background; and besides, Laura is
handsome and Theo really lovely."
"But you have the charm of youth
and your artless ways are more win
ning than the . finished manners of
older women."
Ella .did not answer. She stood look
ing absently at the window.
"What is my Cinderella thinking
of?" asked Miss Reade, after a pause.
' "Of Cinderella," answered the girl,
with a little gleeful laugh. "I have a
plan. Miss Reade, and if you help me,
I'll tafce you to live with me when I
am married. I'm going to act a little
comedy. I am Cinderella; Ill-treated
by my step-sisters, who are old, ugly
and Jealous, but I am too noble to
complain. I am 'resigned; gentle, ever
obliging."
"I see. 'Pity is akin to love.' And
you think you can Interest these men
by playing Cinderella. Well, it is not
a bad idea. But how can I help you?"
"I'll tell you later. Meantime you
had better go to father. I quite forgot
to tell you he wants to see you."
Colonel Ashby arrived next evening.
Sir George. Courtenay was not expect
ed for a day or two, and Ella felt
rather relieved. One man was enough
to begin with. The Major mentioned
casually at dinner that his elder
daughters were from home, and Ernest
Ashby felt a pang of disappointment.
He had hoped to meet Dot, for he had
heard of the death of her mother and
of the sisters having gone to live with
their step-father. His brief love story
had been played out one autumn in a
country house where Dot had been
visiting alone. Ashby had fallen vio
lently in love with Dot, but although
she had returned his affection, their
engagement was never announced, for
they had quarreled almost at once,
and Ashby had gone abroad in a fit
of temper.
As soon as the Major had fallen
asleep oyer his dinner, Ashby made his
way to" the drawing-room, where he
found Miss Reade at the piano, and
Ella prettily reposed in a window re
cess. He quickly joined the latter,
and began to make conversation.
"You have sisters, haven't you?" he
asked, after a time.
"Step-sisters, and three darling little
brothers."
"Your sisters are from home just
now?" t
"Oh. yes," with an arch smile, "or I
shouldn't be here."
"Shouldn't you? Why not?"
"Oh, well" a pause. "You see, I
am rather young, and my sisters keep
me in the school-room. They are very
good and kind, but quite old; they
think me a child."
"Quite old!" ho exclaimed. "Why,
they cannot be. At least the one I
knew cannot be much over twenty."
Ella bit her lip in annoyance at her
blunder. She had forgotten that Ash
by had known Dot.
Ella hesitated a moment, then risked
a daring step.
"Darling Dot," she murmured. "Ah,
Colonel Ashby, did you not know!
Dot died two years ago."
"Dot dead!" he cried, in a voice of
anguish. It was over, then; his dream
of reconciliation. He could never ask
forgiveness now; never explain away
his harsh words; never hear her dear
voice whisper pardon. "I am sorry to
have distressed you," he said, wearily,
after a pause. "I had not beard of
of your sister's death."
Ella smiled through her tears like an
April morn. .
"I can't quite talk of darling Dot
yet," she said, unsteadily. "We were
so much to each other, and I am so
lonely now she's gone."
"You must be," he answered, almost
tenderly. "You must miss her ter
ribly." "Oh, I do," cried Ella, pressing her
handkerchief to her eyes, and there
was a long silence. At last Ella loo-ed
up. "I must say good-night -now,
Colonel Ashby," she said, with a little
smile.
"Already?" he remonstrated. "Why,
it's very early. Don't go yet."
"Oh', but I have such a lot to do to-,
night," she answered, simply.
"Do you still do lessons, then?"
"Oh, no," cried Ella, earnestly. "I
am going to the nursery. Baby Bertie
won't let anybody else put him to bed.
A,hd then, my sisters , have left, me
things to do."
"Tasks?" asked Ashby.
"Mending, and things like that. They
have taken their maid with them, you
see." .
"Rather hard lines on you. Don't
they ever take you out with them?"
"Oh, they are very kind," said Ella,
"and they have promised to take me
somewhere some day, when the boys
are old enough to be at school and I
am not so much needed at home."
"Bather a distant prospect," re
marked Ashby. "I'm afraid it's a
case of Cinderella and the cruel step
sisters." . '
Ella rather forgot her part next day.
Her father was laid up with a sudden
fit of gout, and Miss Reade was kept
busy looking after household affairs
and subduing a mutiny in the nursery.
Ella sauntered round the grounds with
the Colonel, chatting gayly, and then
Ins;sted on rowing about on the pond,
as unlike a household drudge as pos
sible. This occurring to her very
forcibly, she made an effort to resume
her role.
"What a nice holiday I'm having'."
she remarked, accordingly, resting on
her oars, and fixing gleeful eyes on
him. "That dear Miss Reade has un
dertaken all my duties this week that
I may have a complete rest. Isn't 'it
sweet of her?" .
'Toor little woman," he rejoined
they were on quite familiar terms
now "It's a shame you should be so
overworked, and I shall tell your fa
ther so."
"On, no, you mustn't," cried Ella, in
quick alarm. "I. can't have dear fa
ther worried, especially now he is ill.
You mustn't think I'm complaining.
My sisters are very good to me. Prom
ise me you won't say anything; please
promise me."
"I promise, I promise," he soothed
her. "I won't say a word, you loyal
little soul. It's hard lines just now,.
Cinderella, but remember how the
fairy tale ends, and this may end
sooner than you think."
"How? What do you mean?" asked
the child, with wide, innocent eyes,
and Ashby hastily changed the sub
ject, resolving to say nothing more
to disturb her "heavenly Innocence."
As soon as Sir George Courtenay
arrived, Ella turned her attention to
him. He, at least, could not bore her
about the defunct Dot. Ella really
was a clever girl, and she knew that
simple pathos becomes wearisome in
time, so without abandoning her role
of Cinderella, she kept it rather in the
background, and prattled so happily
and even wittily that both men were
amused and fascinated .by her. So
skilfully did she play her part (de
veloping histrionic talent in a way
that quite dazzled Miss Reade) that
by the end of a week her success had
far outstripped her wildest hopes.
Both men had resolved to propose for
her. Ella had determined to accept
Courtenay. If she chose Ashby, he
must inevitably discover her decep
tion about Dot, but Courtenay had
never met her sisters and could not
hold her responsible for any discrep
ancies he migDt notic? between her
description of them and reality.
"I may as well own it to you. little
one," he said, one afternoon, as they
strolled on the lawn, "I was engaged
to your sister. It was rather a hope
less affair, for I was wretchedly poor,
so we kept it to ourselves. But a
secret engagement is an awfully trying
thing, and I was a jealous fool. We
quarreled, and parted, and so and so
I lost her."
Ella was silent.
When she was gone, Courtepay fell
Into' conversation with Miss Reade,
and ' Ashby .went indoors. Running
upstairs, he stumbled over a bundle
which", on investigation, turned out to
be a sobbing child of tender years.
"What's wrong, little one?" he asked,
picking it up carefully.
"Ella slarped baby," sobbed the
child.
"Ella did? Where is Ella, then?" '
"Don't want Ella," wailed the baby
so heartbrokenly that Ashby felt quite
touched. . He was trying to console it
when to his relief the nurse appeared
with a flood of apologies.
"I'm so sorry, sir, but I had to go
downstairs for something, and Master
Bertie ran after me. We're all at
sixes and sevens just now, sir, for the
young ladies being away makes such
a difference." ' -
Baby burst into renewed sobs, wail
ing, "Me no want nursie; me want Dot.
Oh, me do so want Dot."
"Ah, poor little man! I, too, 'do so
want Dot,'" sighed Ashby.
That evening the Major received a
letter from Laura, informing him that
her aunt was better and she and Dot
would return the following afternoon.
He kept this to himself, intending a
pleasant surprise, and had himself es
tablished on the lawn next day at tea
time. Ella made such a pretty pic
ture of -filial love as she hung about
her father's chair that Courtenay made
up his mind to delay no longer, but to
ask her at once to submit to be trained
after marriage into his Ideal woman.
So he presently asked her to come for
a stroll around the lawn, and Ella,
reading bis purpose in his face, ros"?
with alacrity. But, alas! in the very
act of raising the costly cup to her lips
it was dashed to the ground. At this
very moment there appeared two la
dies, hastening from the house across
the lawn to join the party around the
tea table, Ella turned white. Her
father held out welcoming bauds.
"The girls!" he exclaimed, joyously.
"Welcome home, dears!"
. At this moment whence, no one
could tell three children dashed across
the lawn and up to the newcomers, ut
tering shouts of welcome.
"Oh. sisters, we're so glad you're
back!" cried the eldest. "Ella's been
horrid. She's made us live in the
nursery and never come downstairs."
The two guests had been looking on
mystified, but as The ladies came nearer
Ashby fairly gasped for breath. For
the lady round whose neck baby was
clinging was no other than his lost
Dot. As for Courtenay. h was
stricken speechless by Laura's calm
loveliness. Here at least in appear
ancewas his ideal woman.
"Don't yon know my daughter. Ash
by?" asked the Major. "Dot, I
mean."
"It can't be," gasped Ashby, hoarse
ly. "It isn't possible. ' Dot is dead.
Ella told me she died two years ago."
"Dot dead," repeated the Major, stu
pefied. "What on earth do you
mean?"
"But there must be some awful
mistake. Ella told me," faltered Ash
by, and then Dot raised her eyes to
his and said: "Ernest!" and he had no
more doubts.
Ella, meantime, had most judiciously
disappeared and her mystified father
postponed Inquiries till next day.
Then, however, her little brothers,
who had hung about the gardens
many an evening and been unsus
pected witnesses to tender scenes and
pathetic plaints, told enough to reveal
to the astonished and wrathful Major
Cinderella's little plot.
Some months later a double wedding
took place in the village church. The
bridegrooms were Colonel Ashby and
Sir George Courtenay, and the brides
were Cinderella's sisters. New York
News.
Temper ami Pelf-KeRjxTr.
When one loses command of him
self and throws the reins upon the
neck of passion, he may have for the
moment a certain enjoyment in iho
license; but there must surely come a
reaction of regret. When he is calm
again, and the fit has passed away,
every serious person must be ashamed
of what he said and what he did, of
the manner in w-hich he gave himself
away, and the exhibition which ho
made of himself.
Ho will recall the amazement on the
faces of his friends, and the silence
which they adopted -as a protective
measure, and the soothing language
which they used, as if they were speak
ing with a baby, and the glance which
passed between them. He will not
soon be thought the same of with them
as he was before this outburst, r.or will
he have the same claim upon their
confidence as a sound and clear-headed
man. He has acted like a fretful,
peevish child, and has for the time for
feited his' title to m'auhood and the
place of a man; New York News.
Lol of Fun.
The hopeful man never gefs any
thing, but be has lots of fun kofpln
on guessing. New York Tress.
CAPITOL "WHISPERING GALLERY."
TVbat Causes Ita Remarkable Peculiarity
-Attetnpta to Reined? It.
The "whispering gallery" of the old
Hall of Representatives in the National
Capitol, now known as Statuary Hall,
has long been au object of Interest,
and, to the uninitiated, of curiosity. In
an apparent erratic manner, but with
actual mathematical accuracy, the
voice of a speaker, even when uttered
in a whisper, echoes with remarkable
distinctness from one place to another,
and a person standing in the gallery
on the extreme east may express a
whispered l-emark, audible only at the
opposite side of the chamber 110 feet
away. From a scientific standpoint
this phenomenon may be easily ex
plained. The chamber is in the form
of a quarter of a sphere, the centre of
which would come five or six feet be
low the floor. Sound waves projected
against the spherical ceiling rebound as
a billiard ball carroms.
While this peculiarity is interesting
and curious it always seriously inter
fered with the xtse of the chamber for
legislative purposes, and numerous ex
pedients were resorted to with the
hope of remedying it. At one time a
canvas false ceiling was stretched
across the room and the objectionable
acoustic properties of the ball were de
stroyed. In recent renovations the old
wooden ceiling has been replaced with
fireproof construction, but the echoes
may still be heard. When the chamber
was renovated last summer, in paint
ing the columns to resemble marble
the artist worked into the marbleizlng
excellent likenesses of Presidents Mc
Kinley and Roosevelt, but their pres
ence, in form similar to the newspaper
picture puzzle, was deemed inappro
priate and they were subsequently re
moved. Although not generally known
there are many curious pictures in the
real marble columns of Statuary Hall
which cannot be removed, for they are
in the natural veins of the marble,;
which is known as pudding stone. An
Indian, a deer, a girl's head and some
emblems are clearly discernible once
they have been pointed out.
There are other echoes in the Capitol,
notably in tlie Supreme Court room
and the various committee rooms, and
even iu the rotunda, but they can be
heard only when perfect quiet pre
vails. New York Tribune.
Disraeli on Love.
The sale of a batch of letters to Dis
raeli to his sister, written Before the
days of his fame, brought to light some
interesting passages in which "Dizzy,"
as he always was to his sister, was
very candid.
In describing a visit to Wyndham
Lewis's he writes: "By-the-by, would
you like Lady Z. for a sister-in-law?
She is very clever, has $230,000 and is
domestic. As for love, all my friends
who married for love or beauty either
beat their wives or live apart from
them. This is literally the case. I
may commit many follies in life, but I
never Intend toanarry for love, which,
I am sure, Is a guarantee of infelicity."
Within four years Disraeli married
Wyndham Lewis's prosperous widow.
In a letter written four years before
he became a Member of Parliament,
Disraeli thus described a debate in
the House of Commons: "It was one
of th? finest we have had in two years..
Eulwer spoke, but is physically dis
qualified, and in spite of all his exer
tions can never succeed. I heard Ma
caulay's best speeches and Sheil and
Charles Grant. Macaulay was admir
able, but between ourselves I could
Hoor them all. This is entre nous. I
have never been more confident of
anything than that I could carry every
thing before me in the House. The
time will come." New York Sun.
Out of Ilia Class.
"There was a dog fight going on just
around the corner out of sight," ex
plained the man who was telling the
story, and who always sees the funny
tiide of life. "Back of me, coming as
fast as his little legs could carry him,
was a small dog not much bigger than
a rat. As a matter of fact the biggest
thing about him was his bark, but his
every action seemed to say: Oh, I do
hope that scrap won't be over before
I get there'.' I and that small dog came
in sight of the tight at the same mo
ment. There were six dogs in the
mix-up. and not one of them was
smaller than a calf. The way that
small dog suddenly stopped, took one
look and then turned and legged it for
home caused me to laugh aloud. He
acted as if he bad suddenly remem
bered that it wasn't his day to fight."
Detroit Free Press.
The stingy man may keep everything
except his promises.
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