Cousin Mary

"Is her room ready, Fanny!" "Te; quite ready - evcrything's ready." "She oueht to be here now, If the train Is punctual"; and así spoke I put ray head on one side in a listenlng attitude to catch the flrst sound of coming wheels. "I wonder what she'll be Jike," savs Ada íor the fiftleth time; "I wonder if she is prettj." And my sister glances at her own pretty fac eas reflected in the mlrror over the mantleplece, with, perhaps a pardonable feellng of atisfaction. Mother scans the tea table with a crltical eye to see that nothing is wanting. Jack, our young hopeful of 12 years, join the group at the window, and stili the the eipected arrival comes not. Our early dinner has been over some hours. It is our usual tea hour now, but ia honor of Cousin Mary we at flrst resolved to dine later, and have finally compromised matters by havIng hleh tea, which set out on a snowy cloth, with the fire's rays dancing over it, looks even in our tiny parlor, to my prejudlced eyes, very lnvltlng. "Mother," I question presently, "wlll you say anything about Únele Edgar to her?" 'Not to-night, I thinkdear. She can't bave got over hls death yet, and, at any rate, I should find it awkward to do so. Tou know we have not been on speaking terms for years now. I was as vexed about our differences as If he had been my own brother instead of my itepbrother." And mother lieaves a sigh as she speaks, and I wonder how anyone can entertain resentment agalnst anything gentle. "Where does he travel f rom to-day?" asks Ada presently. "Krom a place called Yarley, I thlnk," reponds mother, "but I really know as llttle about her as you do. I think she has been Tlsltlngsome people called Whitelaw." Jack goes and pulls back the curtalns (we bave drawn them and lighted the gas, as the twllight is falling rapidly) for the siith time, at we hear a souno of wheels. This time they do top before our house, and before there has been time to open the front door Ada and mother are already In the passage. "I say, Fanny," exclaims Jack, who still retalns his viewpoint, "here's a go! Look here." I step fonvard and look over his sboulder. The cab has drawn up, and bcfore the cabnjau has had time to aliglit some one opens the door unaided and springs on to the pavement in a very inderendent fashion. With a sweeping glance at our house she seeras to take In all lts dimensions, coolly facluding lts inmates - Mother and Ada on the doorstep, Jack and me at the window. Then, without changinz her expressioa oí face, she says a few words to the cabman, and presently, to our amazement, before either Jack or Jlbbv, our maid of all work, can rush to the rescue, thls capable young feiuale lias slung a bandbox iu oue haud and with the other has seized one eod of a heavy wooden trunk wliich oecupicd the box of the cal), aud In a few liasty strldes deposlted it withlu the door. By thls time, mlndful of my duty, I reachcd the door, wlierc the others are already reecivln)t Cousin Mary. "How areyou, Mary?" says mother klndly. 'How d'yo do!" responded our Cousin, in a loud, deep voice, shaking hands wtth us in turo, as cach procs forward. "Where's my trunk to gol" contiuucs sbe, havlng harldly glanccd at Ada and me. Jfbby, the remlss, lias now appeared on the scène, Upon our guest deigns to bestow a prolouged stare. "Jack," Icall, "come and help upstairswith the trunk," the while regardlng with some constern&tion the umrleldy article betore me, and thinking with come di.smay how it will Sll up our tiny sp.ire room. "Ot of the way, please," says our Cousin, putting me rathcr suimnarily on one side. "ïou )erd a hand here," addreseing Jibby, wbo is standing looking on open-mouthed iroiu the background. Before anyoue can remonsirate, the trunk 1 haH way up the staircase and all I can do is to follow. As I predlcted, after it has found a resting place there is not much surplus room in Cousin Mary's apartment. Jibby retires after depositing it, and I enter half hesitating. "Not much room to turn here," remarks our guest, coolly surveying our much-thoughtof spare room. "At least, you have it to yourself," I say, coldly. 'You could have had part of a larger room, but we fancled you would prefcr thls to uch un arrangement. [I am inwardly thankful there is no qucstlon of my sbarini; a room with my companion.J 8he had got rid of her ulster and bat, and is brushlng her balr before the mirror. She then turns and look at me tharply, as I speak, then resumes her occupation In tilencc. Her appearance is far from prejiossessing. Tall and large boned, she Impreaws one as almost coarsc iu feature. She kal a inass of thick, brown halr, which she vears iu a fringe cut lovr on her forehtiad, and islling down behlnd in a laree chignou quite out of date. Her complexión Is brilllant; she liu thick Ups and rather a heavy jaw, and a large dimplc on her chin. Iu short, she tnlght have been comely, but tliat, perhaps from a iough mode of Ufe, she hau become coareened. She bas large red hands, too, and wears a quantity of flas!iy cheap looking jewelry. Before I have finlshed ror mental summingup process, niy voinpanlon broak3 In on me. "Am I togo down stalrs nowt" she nquires, with a strong American accent, which rather surprises me, although I have heaid that Cousin Mary spent part of her cbililhood In America. "I beg your pardon," I respond. "Yes, we'll go down to tea lf you are ready." "This is cosey, and no mistake," ciclaiins my companlon when we reach the Darlor, with its dainty tea table and brlght Ughta, "So we all tea together," sbegoes ou, taking no notke of J tok, who regards her as a sort of phenomeaon f rom the background. '"I'm iree to confess you're not so stuck up as Engllsh folk iu America." (The last word she pronoutices "Ameriky.") No one responds to her remark. I prlvately wonder lf she expected to take tea in the kitchen and at the same time decide that the surroundings there would be more in keeping than her present ones. 'Won't you iit near the firei" says mother, who, I can see, is making an effort to be hospitable. '-You must be cold after your Journey." Mary planta herself dowu with her back to to the fire, and scans the tea tablc witb a look of snprome satisfactlon. Thcn we are silent. First there are so few subjects we may broach. We must not speak of Unclé Edgar, our Cousin's father, in case of awakening too painful memories, as lic is but lately dead. W'eknow nothing about her. She know nothing of us. We have absolutely nothing in cominon. "Have you been long in America?" asks mother, presently; this evldently presenting a safe opening. "Long," laughs our guest, "Bless jou, I'vc lived there half rny days." A sllght flush passes over muther's face, but Bhe makes anothcr brave effort. "Indeed! I did not know you had been there so long. You must find England a grcat change." "That I do, and it'a with no will of my own I ever set foot on it. I'vc been shamefully cheated.;" and Cousin Mary purses upher lips, ind her face, already flushed with the warm room, becomes starlet with indignatlon against some anknowfl onc who bas decoyed her from the New Eugland World under false preteits. We feel that indirectly she has cast a sligbt n us by her last remark, unexplained as It Is ; so we keep silence. In the meantime she filis hcr saucer with half the contents of her cup, and drinks them off, poising the saucer dexterously between her thumb and fingers. Jack here gives vent to a suppressed titter, and kicks me under the table, but I am In no mirthful mood. It Is all too serious. "So you keep two servants!" blurts out our guest, abruptly breaking the sllence. The question takes us by surprise. I see Ada's expression of face meant to waru our visitor she Is golnff two far. Jack oudjres me and taps his forehead sipiitlcaiilly, with a covert glancc at Cousin Mar;. "No," I say; wbat mates you think so? We ïave only ouc." "Uh, I thought you meant to keep two now," $he remarkcd couiposedly, proceeding with her tea. Evervbody s relieved when the meal comps o an end. At its close our gunst has become tired of scrutiulzinjf her surroundings, and eans back in her chair yawulua: unabashedly. "Would you like to go to your room nowl" says mother, kindly, perceiving the signs of wearlncss she makes no attempt to conceal. "Idon't mind If I do; I'm pretty well dead beat as it is," says our cousiu, pushing back some of the tnick friuge which covers her orehead. "Tou can teil me what's expected of me in he morniug," she continúes, addressing me with alry condescensiou. "There's nothius; expected of you eicept to amuse yourself as well as you can," says nother, ently, appareutly touched by what he conslders as a kindly meant, rather blunt offer of our cousin to make herself useful in a ïouse where no doubt he lias already perceived thera is plenty to do, aud not too much of the assistance aod comfort money can procure. "Good ui;:lit, dear," say9 mother, with more warmtb than she has yet sliown our juest. "I hope you will be comfortable. i'anny will go up stairs with you and see you ive all you need." Then mother actuiilly schools herself (I cnow It is an effort, but a sense of duty is trong in her) to ki3S cousin Muit, a trial of noial strength I am not equal to, and a proceeding irbtcb seenu to strike our visitor with profouuil surprise. Ada proves herself as ;reat a conard stó I am, tont shc inercly shakes lands, aud tben i couiiu.t oiugucst upstairs. When we ïeath her room she suddenly turns round to me. "I want to know rightly what's expected of me," 6he ayi. "It's all very fine iertalkinr like thnt" - tai slie points towards ïi diïnr witli }rr Hilimli tr a]n ia ra. erring to motber - but I want to koow the Ights of the matter. It alu't just llkely she'll saddle herself with a young womiu. sbe's to make nothing out of." For amornentl feel Indlguant thai mother's lislnterestedncss sbould be suspected; then I really began to fancy that perbaps, after all, 'ack was rigbt, and our cousin's braiu is a ittle unhlnged; so I say soothlngly, a the est way of setting out of the difficulty - "Well, well, we'll see about it to-morrew. daresay you're tired to-night and iuust waut o be done talklng. flood uight. .Breakfast at 8:30; you'll bc callcd at elght" anl I leav ïer loolring only half satisfied. I rush down stairs wben I have quitted her. Mother, Ada and Jack have ciiawii ronud the flre, and are holding a family council. Their tones are 80 grave, their faces express 60 much chargrln, tbatwere thewhole affaiv uot so cruelly ruortlfyiug, It would be too absurd. "Fanny," begins Ada, inatragic voice, "we can't take her to the St Clare's. It would never da" "I don't see how we can help it." I say, floonillv. "Did you ever sue anythlng like beri" "Never." returned my istcr solemly; "and ' really do not see how we are to take her about," looking reflectlvely into the flre. I'm sure I should be asuamcd to be seeu with her. " "How long will she stay, raothcri" "About a inoutli, I should think," says nother with a sigh, "not longer." "Quite long enough," says Ada, savagely, while I can only reitérate. "A month!" des?arlngly. Then we are all silent, pietunng I suopose, whatthe prospectivo month wil! brlng 'orth. Apparently none of us flnd the reflec;ion ch ce ring. "Dldn't you know what like shc was when ,'ou asked her?" asks Ada prescntly, with unreasoning impatlence. "ís she likc Únele Edgar?" "Why, you know, deür," íays mother, n8wcring the imietuous outburst with ber usual unruf&cd rentleness, "I've never seen Mary until to-niKlit, and she is as likc your únele as - as - well, as she ii unlike you, Ada," slie endt stnilingly. Ada is tbe strong point of tbe fatnily in personal attraction. Probably she la soothed by the allusion, for she klsses mother bj way of apology, and we grow a little loss aoleful as we resolve to make the best of raatters as they are. So we get our woik. and the clock on the mantelpiocñ ticks steadily, and thc fire burns brightly, but somchow, instead of the usiul merry buzz of conversation, we seem suddeuly to have developed a reflective turn of mind, for the woik progresses but our volees are silent. Presently we are startled by a ring at the door Wil- It must be quite two hours ufter Cousin Mary has retired - indeed, we are just putting our woik together, as it is gettlng late - and Jibby brlngs lu a red envelope, aud handiuj; it to mother, says, in a voicc of awe, due to the occasion, "A telegram for you, ma'am." "A telegram!" exclalms mother with a nervous start boru of a general horror of telegrains, and Iknow that her thoughts straightway fly to Tom in India. Jibby retires, and Mother tears orjen the envelope with trembllng üngei s aud reads aloud : - "Froin Mary Montgomerv, Yarley, to Mr. "Vauchn. 5 Well Road. Tuuburirh. "Have been obliged to delay my ariival tlll to-morrow. Hope tUis will uot lueonveaience you. Will explain rcasou wheu we rajet." Mother reads it once through, theu looks up bewlldered. "Iteantbe for me," abc says at last, pieking up the envelope and exaraining the address. "Ot course It Is," I say; "look here'8 your name and addrcsi inside as well." 'But Marv'a up stairs," says mother In a puzzled tone. "Wbat's It all about! I don't uuderstand," and shc procecJs to peruse tbe tclcgram once mora None of us understood at first, but gradually a light dawns opoD us. "I llave it," says Ada ia au caeer, ezcltcd tone. It Isn't Mary we've got up stalrs at all." Shc announces her convictiou just as we all come to tbe same conclusión. "Then who is II?" asks mother slowly. Tes, who is it. There's the rub. Apparentlv an Immense weight has been llfted froin Ada's mind by her discovery, for reganlless of the dilemma we are in if sue is right, her face beams with satisfactlon. Mother's, on tbe contrary wears a look of troubled tnxlety, which I thlnk the occasion hardly justities - an anxiety which secms to deepen the more she ponders the matter. At last she speaks. "Some one bas known of this," she says gravely, laying her hand on the telegram. Somc one bas known of Mary's inoveiucnts. The woman up stairs is an impostor. I feel sure of it. She's not a woman cither, or I'm very much mistaken," she goes on excltedly, not heediug the paradox; "she's a man - a thief indlsgulse!" Ada and I opened our eyes wido in amazement at such revelations. "What's to be done?" I gasp when I can flnd voice, never stopping for a momcut to question tbe probability of mother's concluslons. I have read of such thlngs. I grasp the situation, aml feel there is uo time to be lost Already the thief wc are harboring m:iy be makinir the most of bis time up stalrs upon a pair of much valued Queeu Aune candlesticks adoruing the bedroom mantlepiece. I glance at the olocfc It is gettlng late. Something must be done. We are all so belpless. "We must have some help," 1 say ener gctically. "Jihby and I will go for a policeman." "Oh, my dear," cxclalms mother in an anxious tone, while Ada says nothing except to entreat me In a nervous voice to be as quick as possible. There is a pólice station thiee minutes' walk from our house and Jlbby and I make short work of the iutervenlng (Jlstance. When we reach it there is a light within and a composed looking Individual calmly surveys us over a pair of spectacles with an cxpresslon of surprise. I relate uiy story as coherently as I can for want of breath, of which the iimu makes a few jottings in a provoking delibérate mannor, after which he calis some one from an inner room, rctails to him the outline of my narrative and in perhaps ten minutes from the time we entered we start homewards escorted by two stalwart members of the forcé. Aimost bcfore we have rung, Ada opens the door for us. Motber is stlll nervous and harassed, Jack exclted at tac propect of an adventure. "Wliat wottld you advise?" asks raother, addressingntie taller of the policemen. ''This persou is In a bedroom upstalrs." "Some oiie had better wake her - just n case you're mistaken, ma'am," he adds, half apologctfcally for appearlug to doubt mother. 'ToU bad better Unockand explain matters, and see what she has to say for berself," he goes on, turnlng to rae. ' You necd uot be Ín :he least afrald, we won't bo. three yard8 off." Thus adjured, I mount tbe stairs rith a beatng heart, wliile otbers group thcmselvcs at thc bottom. Three times I knock before receiving an answer, and am just begiuning to hink that tbc robber has becu disappointed ín the lucrative prospects of tbe house, and ruada )(t without earrying out his evil intentions The third time, however, some one stirs, and a deep volee calis out, sleepily: "Wno's therc! Sure it's never eight o'clock. " "No," I cali back, "but I want to speak to tou. Opea the door for a minute, please." I hear a movement Inside as of some one stirring.and a voicegrumblindiscontentedly; and theu, just as my knees begin to tremble, tbe door is opened, and our guest appears in the doonvay wearing a rapidly improvised dressing gown In the shape of an ulster, her ' thick hair strayiug over her face, whlch does not wear its most salubrlous expression. At ] once I am aware that mother has been wrong n her calculations, a conviction which uaturally does not tend to the stcadiness of either my voice or ideas. "There bas been some mlstuke," I mered. ''You are not our cousin, after all. ■ You should have been asbamcd to have ! ed us so badly," I go on severcly, as I faney I i detect symptoms of guilt in the face bcfore me. "Law, sokes!" exclaims my companion, ' ;en back at such a sudden attack, rubbing ler eyes and starring aghast at me. "And I'd like to know who set up to be your cousin," with a scornful emphaeis on the ■ xjssessive pronoun, while an indiguant flush jasses over her face. 'Do teil I" she cries out ! wrathfully, her American accent coming out : strongly. "And I'd like to know who's been treated badly if ft's not an boncst ervant eirl, brougbt here from Ameriky by tbem as nitdc her fair promises, and tben turned her adrift lien sbe had served their purposes. Didu't your mother engage me? and I'd like to know what 9he found to complain of : ready." "Engagc you," I echo, wblle I hear a faint exclamaUon from the group gathered at the 'oot of the stair.s. 'TFet, engage me," she reitérate angrily, "and if you don't believe me 111 show you : the letter Mr3. Harvey got from her, and see f you won't believe your own eyes." "You don't need to,1 I respond, a light jreaklug In on my mimi. "Whc du you say engagod you?" "Your mother," she repeats in an angry ;one, thinking I am trilling wit her, "Mrs. White, and 111 find her letter ín a second, too." "Theu our name's not White," I say, "and fou've come to the wrong house. We j en our cousin to-day, and when you arrlveil ! of course we took jou for her." "Who may you ue, then!" she lnquires, ! soinewhat staggered, but stlll defiant. Mis. Wliite livcs on the opposite side of the street, I say soothingly, not heeding the question, and feeling tbat, after all, from the poor womau's polut of view she has been rather badly treated. "You had better go back to bed, and cverything can De set right In the moruing," I I tinued cheerfully, as ray compauiou buvsts j to au angry tlt of tearf. Then she closes the door uncpremoniously in ray face, and I 8ccnd the stalrs to see the effect of the i ordinaiy revelatlons on the miuds of the others. Jack and Ada are tittcriug. Iseebythe ; twitcblng of the men's Ups tbat their gravity laa been put to a severe test Mother alouc i looks vexed and annoyed. ' Glad tbat it's nothlng more sciious tban a mistak?, ma'ain," says the tall policrmau at last. "I thluk, as wc're not needed, we'll say eood nigbt," and then they go, lcaving us feelng chagrlned and small, but witbal rellOT6cL Our iudignaut guest takes leave of us In the earlr morning, and she and her bclongings are safcly housed with Mrs. White, over the way, wlio, it seenis, bnd begun to dwpalr of lier in-w liandmaid, and is uufeicnedl y glad wlicn sbe makes her appearanee. Poor Mary ! Her democratie ideas wliicb she found so satIsfaetoriiy curried out in our house and at our table will doubtlussreceivc ashock in her new abode. Nethcr is it probable tbat her new mistress will relceate to her her best spare bedroom, so that it is to befeared lier rundhlly expres-ed opinión of our country will umiurgo no cbuigfl tor tbe better. The reaï C'ousin Mary more tban fultUls our greatest expcctatlon. She is tall aml Cuiraad beautifu', in shorl, just what we can exhlblt to the 8t. Clares and our various frieuds, with pardonalile feelinirs of prlde. Mhdv a time we indulge in a hearty laatrb wben we lKk acroei tbe street and sec Mary wssbing dirtvn the dobrgtepa or pollshlng up the brasses, and ree:ill tbc never-to-be-fnrg:ottcn eveuing. wheu our foolisb hoarW stink at tbe prospect of a loug moutb speut in close coimnuiionsbipwitu liur. GlotPOVI Citix-n.