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Cromwell Argus, Volume XXVII, Issue 1372, 13 August 1895, Page 2

I that you may be as happy in your marriage as your mother and I were." Elsie was completely taken aback. Many a time she had rehearsed the scene, and never once dreamed that her father might act in this way. So unprepared was she for any such congratulatory address, that her mind was thrown into a momentary state of confusion, and she could remember none of her carefully - planned little speeches. "You don't wish it, father?" she uttered, faintly. Alas, poor Elsie! her look of appealing distress was quite misunderstood by the kind vicar. " Of course I wish it," he cried, genially. " Have you been imagining that I was going to act the ' heavy father' of the play ? I wish for anything which is for your happiness, my love; but besides that, Elsie, I must say it is a great relief to me in many ways. Sam's paying that bill yesterday was very distressing to me —no man likes to be under such an obligation ; but, as he was saying just now, between members of the same family there is no question of obligation. He will be one of us. and our affairs will be his affairs. He tells me he shall lose no time in looking out a good school for Bertie. Really, my dear, he seems a most estimable young man, and there is no doubt we shall all be the better for having a good man of business in the family." Elsie stood looking at her father in blank despair. Was everything to be settled offhand in this terrible way, and was she to have no voice in the matter ? Her heart revolted against the cruel injustice, yet she had no words in which to plead her cause. The deeply-rooted habit of shielding her father from trouble ma-le it hard for her to destroy the brilliant castle in the air he had so suddenly erected; doubly hard, with Mary's words ringing in her ears—" Elsie must please herself." If Elsie were to please herself she must disappoint her father and sister, and ruin poor Bertie's prospects. But the alternative was too dreadful. How strange it was that Sam seemed, suddenly, to have won every one's good opinion. A week ago he had been an object of railery; no one either liked or respected him j but now all agreed to sing his praises—even her father, the least mercenary of mankind! O, what a world of vile, ill-favour'd faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a-year ! And, alas! Sam possessed thousands rather than hundreds. Elsie rallied her energies, and tried to think of some objection to bring forward. " You said—you said he was a dandy," she faltered, not daring to raise her eyes. It was a weak thing to say, and so she felt. As a drowning man grasps at a straw, so she caught at the one idea which occurred to her distracted mind. " So I did, darling, so I did," cried Mr. Vere, throwing back his head with a gay, boyish laugh. " I am sorry to have hurt your feelings, but I had not the least idea of all this, you sly little pussie! I fear I am, as the old song says, an ' auld, blind, dotard body,'or I should have guessed it all long since. My dear, young men are always dandies when they are afflicted with the love fever. You would hardly think it," giving a comical glance at his shabby coat-sleeve," but I was quite a fop myself when I was making love to your dear mother. What a consummate ass I was ! I wonder she condescended to look at me. But a short dose of matrimony cures that complaint. You must forgive me, Elsie darling, and believe that I thoroughly appreciate his excellent good qualities, dandy though he is ! " " Father," said Elsie, despei'ately, "you talk as if it were all settled, and—and I have not made up my mind! " Her father laughed, and gave her a quizzical look, which made her cheeks tingle. "Oh, all right, my dear," he replied, with much inward amusement. " I do not wish to interfere; I'll leave you and Sam to settle your affairs at your leisure." He went back to his study, his kindly face alight with smiles, and his romantic unpractical soul all aglow with sympathy for the lovers. His little Elsie in love! How odd it was, and how sweet and beautiful was this spring-time of life ! Seated in his arm-chair, forgetful of microscope and specimens, the tenderhearted Vicar gave himself up to visions of bygone happy days, days spent in contriving how and where he could meet his beloved Mary, and nights spent in writing poetry, which he never had the courage -to give her. Self-tormenting, yet gladsome days ! Gone! —for evet gone! Tears arose in his soft, dreamy eyes, blotting out these visions of the past, and the Vicar roused himself, and, throwing off the painful memories which oppressed him, he once more set to work building and furnishing that castle in the air his daughter had not possessed the firmness to demolish. Sam was very well satisfied with his morning's work, as, indeed, he had good cause to be. In the afternoon he called, hoping to see Elsie; but she and her sister had gone for a long walk, and he found no one at home; so he lingered a moment, talking patronisingly to -'• Betty. He recognised the fact that'she was a power in the house, and thought it worth his while-to win her over to-his side. Before he left he slipped a sovereign into her broad hand, with a jocose request that she would spend it on cap ribbons. Betty received the gift with an inscrutable smile, and Sam departed in high spirits at his clever " stroke of business." His theory that " every woman has her price " would have been a little shaken if he had seen how Betty treated his present. She took it into the kitchen, and laid it upon her clean, round deal table, and sitting down, she looked at it gravely and critically, as though it were quite a curiosity. " What's this here for ? " she soliloquised. " ' Nothing for nothing, and very little for a 'a'penny,' that's been his motter iver since he wor a boy. I mind him well, Ido ! He never gave nobody one shillin' for nothing. Twenty shillin'll buy a sight of things. What's this 'ere twenty shillin' to buy ? " She shook her head solemnly, andsighed; , out though she evidently looked up'm the bit of gold with grave suspicion, si je was by no means disposed to undervi iue it. She was perfectly well aware tha it was a bribe ; as such she despised it, nd was at once on her guard against thy giver; but the gold was none the worsp*or that. Money was money, and Betty, .Ice most north-country folk, was far frc3i blind to its charms. She reached down an old cracked tea-pot from the back of the top shelf of her cupboard, and there deposited her treasure, after which.she sat down to her work, and set her shrewd wits to work to solve the problem. ;V (CO.VTI.VUKE KTJSKWHKKE.] Kchtor : " Wo, my clear air ; as a posthumous poem these verses would bo good. Hut I do not see my'way clear to publishing them juflt now." Poet: " Bub what advantage would it be to mo to have them published after my death ? " Editor: "I cannot say, my dear sir. Jsut a posthumous poem in especially valuable in the fact that it asaurts the reader that no more will be written by the same author," — Brooklyn Life.