Lavender and Old Lace

"MR. JOSEPH PENDLETON-"Respected Sir: Although your communication of recent date was a great

surprise to me, candour compels me to confess that it was not entirely

disagreeable. I have observed, though with true feminine delicacy, that

your affections were inclined to settle in my direction, and have not

repelled your advances.

"Still, I do not feel that as yet we are sufficiently acquainted to

render immediate matrimony either wise or desirable, and since the

suddenness of your proposal has in a measure taken my breath away, I

must beg that you will allow me a proper interval in which to consider

the matter, and, in the meantime, think of me simply as your dearest

friend.

"I may add, in conclusion, that your character and standing in the

community are entirely satisfactory to me. Thanking you for the honour

you have conferred upon me, believe me, Dear Sir, "Your sincere friend, "HEPSEY."

"My!" exclaimed Hepsey, with overmastering pride; "ain't that beautiful!

It's better than his'n, ain't it?"

"I wouldn't say that," Ruth replied, with proper modesty, "but I think

it will do."

"Yes'm. 'Twill so. Your writin' ain't nothin' like Joe's," she

continued, scanning it closely, "but it's real pretty." Then a bright

idea illuminated her countenance. "Miss Thorne, if you'll write it out

on the note paper with a pencil, I can go over it with the ink, and

afterward, when it's dry, I'll rub out the pencil. It'll be my writin'

then, but it'll look jest like yours."

"All right, Hepsey."

She found it difficult to follow the lines closely, but at length

achieved a respectable result. "I'll take good care of it," Hepsey said,

wrapping the precious missive in a newspaper, "and this afternoon, when

I get my work done up, I'll fix it. Joe'll be surprised, won't he?"

Late in the evening, when Hepsey came to Ruth, worn with the

unaccustomed labours of correspondence, and proudly displayed the

nondescript epistle, she was compelled to admit that unless Joe had

superhuman qualities he would indeed "be surprised."

The next afternoon Ruth went down to Miss Ainslie's. "You've been

neglecting me, dear," said that gentle soul, as she opened the door.

"I haven't meant to," returned Ruth, conscience-stricken, as she

remembered how long it had been since the gate of the old-fashioned

garden had swung on its hinges for her.

A quiet happiness had settled down upon Ruth and the old perturbed

spirit was gone, but Miss Ainslie was subtly different. "I feel as if

something was going to happen," she said.

"Something nice?"

"I--don't know." The sweet face was troubled and there were fine lines

about the mouth, such as Ruth had never seen there before.

"You're nervous, Miss Ainslie--it's my turn to scold now."

"I never scolded you, did I deary?"

"You couldn't scold anybody--you're too sweet. You're not unhappy, are

you, Miss Ainslie?"