LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1963, 9 June 1880, Page 4

LITERATURE.

LITTLE BROWN GLOVES. * Now, Fred, do go to the Wilkins' with us to-morrow night,' coaxed my sister Bell, standing a step higher to bring her face on a level with mine. Bell has followed me to the front door, as 1 leave for ' down town' after breakfast. « Bab, Bell!' I reply. 'You know I can't bear the Wilkins girls.' 'Well, Fred, I know tbey are rather flat and drowzy, but there good-hearted girls, and they've got a lovely cousin visiting them. Oh, I know you would like Alice Manning.' ' Sis, I'm a sworn old bachelor. No doubt Miss Manning is an angel, but it isn't worth while for me to go to Wilkins' to see her. I'll provide you an escort though, if I don't go myself.' ' I mean to coax you to go, so you may as well give in.' Bell gave me a little sisterly slap, by way of a parting salutation, and I went off. I usually walk up town for the exercise, but when it begins to sprinkle sharply, and a fellow has a speck and span new pair of ten-dollar 'oh-no we-nevar-mention-ems' on, why he's apt to fly to a street car. That is, I didn't fly, I walked sedately up, and stepped on board a Ninth-street car.

Now it may be there is a predicament more mortifying to a well-dressed fellow than to step into a car in the rain, and he slips his hand into his pocket for the fare, to find that iu changing his clothes he has left his purse, money, car-tickets and all, in 'tother breeches pocket! It may be, I say, but I never got into it. I discovered the awful truth just as the conductor opened the upper door. What in the world was I to do ?] Beat an ignominious retreat ? Oh, never 1 Ask the conductor to wait till I got the change at the office ? Did ever a conductor do suoh a thing in his life ?

I glanced round the oar. Not a soul whom I knew and could ask a loan of. Two or three frowzy Dutch women going to market, a nurse with a baby, some laboring men, three or four dapper clerks, and a young lady in blaok cashmere, with a pretty little hand without a glove, and a veil over her face, so that I couldn't see what she looked like.

No hope or help for me here, that was plain. To get out was all I could do, with the prospect of walking a mile in the rain without an umbrella.

I was just about rising to put my project into execution, when the young lady in black rose, pulled the strap, and passed down the car to the rear door.

I sat still a moment to give her room, when, as she brushed by me, I felt a soft little hand slip some hard substance into mine. I glanced down; it was a silver quarter-piece. I sprang up, but the oar was moving, and I only caught a glimpse of her figure disappearing in the door-way of a store across the sidewalk.

Blees the girl! She had taken in the awkwardness of my position and hastened, in the kindness of her heart, to relieve it. And should I do less than let her kindness work its will ? No, indeed. I put that quarter into the conductor's hand, received the fifteen cents in change, and as I dropped it into my pooket, I picked np something unperceived before, which had fallen into my lap. It was a little pair of brown kid gloves, cunningly rolled up, in a fashion that women understand, and tucked Into each other.

I had seen those gloves only a moment before lying in the lap of the lady opposite when I glanced at her pretty hand. They were here. It might be there was a name in them somewhere, and I should find out who she was. But not here, I quietly pushed the little gloves out of sight in my coat-pocket, until I stood in my own office. Then I took them out, straightened them over my knee, and examined them. They were little, soft, dainty things, with three tiny gilt buttons, and a faint perfume, resembling roses, lingering about them. But there was no name anywhere—no clew at all to their owner's whereabouts.

' Never mind, I'll keep 'em!' said I, reverently, folding them and putting them back, this time into my breast pocket. ' I'll meet that girl again, and then I'll give her a new pair. I wish I had aeen her face, God bless her'.'

If I didn't see her face really, I saw it in imagination all day, for it kept peeping between me and the leaves of the great ledgers which pretended to claim my attention. I didn't know her name, and I hadn't seen her face. Bat I knew she had the kindest heart and the sweetest little hand a girl ever did have, and I had her gloves. We should meet again somewhere, and then—well, you son I was pretty near falling in love, and didn't even know the color of the girl's eyes, I went home, and told Bell my mistake, bnt I didn't tell her my precious little secret, and when she asked me how I managed, I said—

«Oh, got out and walked, It only rained a little.'

And so I did, when I got to my corner. Bell insisted that I should go to the Wilkins' blow-out with her, and at last I consented.

There was a crowd, and the Wilkin's girls were uglier than ever. We had not been there very long when Laura Wilkins came up with a tallish, golden-haired girl, and addressed me, 'Miss Manning, let me make you acquainted with my friend, Fred Somers. Miss Manning, Mr SomeM.' I bowed all politely, of course, and I fancied—or was it fancy—-that Miss Manning blushed a little. Why should she, unless she was very bashful, or unless those Wilkins girls— 'em—had been trying to get her to set her cap for mo. They were good at such tricks. I knew 'em. But this sweet-faced girl didn't look as if she were given to them. She had a slight, willowy figure, and a sweet grave mouth, and such true, earneat eyes. I was drawn to her in spite of myself. But I thought she wa3 full of fun when any one she knew well spoke to her. ' How do you like her, Fred V asked Ball, as we walked hom<).

' Oh, she'll do very well,' I answered. To myself my thought was—'lf I had met her before yesterday, I might have taken a fancy to her, but now, if I ever fall in love with anybody, it shall be my little ' Brown Gloves.' For eo, not having any other name, I christened my unknown friend.

Bell fell violently in love with Miss Manning, if I did not. She would have her at her house half the time, and indeed she did make a very delightful addition to onr little circle. I declared to myself that I cared nothing about her, but I was getting very fond of staying at home when she was with Bell, or of going out with them whenever they would allow me to be their esoort.

One morning she came over to our house, and asked Hell to go out shopping with her. Bell persuaded her to stay until after dinner, and go out in the afternoon.

Miss Manning consented, and so when I went home I found there at noon.

After dinner, as they had arranged, they prepared to go out. Miss Manning was dressed in a pretty suit of some brown stuff, trimmed with a wavy kind of fringe, silk I suppose, but I don't know how to describe women's dim-Cam a, you know. She had on a hat to match, and she laughed as she put on a pair of black gloves, saying to Bell, with one little hand out: 'See, these are a lovely mat ;h. ar n t they ? I'm going to get some to wear with this suit, this afternoon. I lost my best brown ones about two weeks ago, and have negleoted to get any more.' Bell went out for something just then, and with a sudden impulse I went up to Alice Manning, and said : " Miss Manning, do you know where you lost your gloves ?' ' No, I don't,' she answered. ' I had them in my hand, but not put on, and I never missed them till I got home to Aunt Laura's. Why did you ask, Mr Somers ?' 'Was It a rainy morning?' I peislsted, ignoring her question and looking straight into her sweet eyes. ' Yes,' said she, and all at once turned rosy-red all ever her sweet face. ' I'll tell you why,' said I, bending very close down and speaking low. 'Because, one rainy morning, two weeks ago, I met an angal in a Ninth street car, and if she lost her brown gloves, why I found them, and if she'll let me. I'll call at her Aunt Laura's to-night and give them to her. May I?'

' Yes,' said Alice ; and Bell's voice sounding at the door, I turned away without a single word more. But I called at the Wilkinß's house that evening, and, instead of asking for ' the ladies,' as usual, I asked only for Miss Manning. She came in directly, and after we had chatted a momeut, though I noticed that she seemed very much embarrassed, and not like her easy self, I went over and sat down beside her, and took the little brown gloves from my pocket, laid them on her lap, and said—

' Are these yours. Miss Manning ?' She looked at them a moment, and answered—

' Yea, they are certainly mine, but I don't know yet where yon found them. ' ' I'll tell yon. They dropped into my lap when you did me the most delicate little act of kindness I ever received in ray life.'

'l'm sur9 I didn't know it was yon then,' said Alice, blushing furiously. ' I don't know what possessed me, but I saw that you were a gentleman, and I felt so sorry for you, and so, before I thought, it was dona 1'

' And I've bsen longing ever since to find you out. I didu't see your face, you know.' ' No, and when I met you, the very first night, I was very glad I had my veil on, for I recognized you at once. What must you have thought of my boldness ?' blushing deeper, and turning her face away. 'Thought I Miss Alice, I haven't known you very long, but I can't help telling you that I lost half my heart to that darling girl in the street-car, and the other half to the sweet girl I met in this room the next day. Come now I I've given back your gloves. What are you going to do with my property —give it back to me too, or keep it V Alice blushed a little, laughed a little, and said softly : 'lf it's all the same to you I'll keep it,' glancing up at me like a saucy bird. I caught her close to me. 'lt isn't all the same. Tt's all the difference in the world, for I don't want it back. But I want yours in exchange. May I have it, darling!' Well, I won't tell you just how my Alice answered, but she said * yes,'anyhow, and eo I won her.

And Belljwaa delighted ; but Alice never would let me tell how I found the little brown gloves.