CHAPTER V.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 121, 26 September 1885, Page 6

CHAPTER Y.

KATIE REBELS. Abodt a couple of weeks after the incidents recorded in the last chapter, Katie openly rebelled. Mrs Maynard had been more tyrannical than ever. Everything in her eyes went wrong; she scolded Katie and Candice without the slightest provocation, Candice said nothing in reply, but Katiequick tempered Katie — would not brook so much fault-finding. Monday, Katie did tho washing and in the evening sprinkled the clothes down for the next day's ironing ; in the morning she put the irons on the stove to heat while she was getting breakfast. Breakfast was over, and clearing up Katio set the dishes on the little side-table and commenced ironing, when Mrs Maynard appeared with a face like a thundercloud, dark and threatening. " Katie, I want you to wash those dishes at once !" she cried. Katie looked up, saw her mistress's ireful face, and let the half-finished garment drop from her fingers. " You want me to stop ironing, muni ?" " Yes, and wash the dishes !" Mrs Maynard said, in a more gracious tone, for she did not quite like the looks of Katie's head set so defiantly on her shoulders. "Very well, mum," Katie responded, quietly, and, taking the dish-pan down from the wall, she got water from the reservoir and commenced washing the dishes. . Mrs Maynard glanced uneasily at the garment on the ironing-board ; it was one of ! Mark's shirts, all ironed but the bosom. She glanced at the shirt.then at Katie, who was washing the dishes with the utmost unconcern, and spattering the water about in a terribly suggestive manner. "Are you not afraid the bosom will get dry, Katie?" Mrs Maynard asked, trying to speak pleasantly. "No, mum," Katie answered, briefly, and Mra Maynard, thinking it would be best to beat a retreat, quietly left the kitchen. Candice was sick, really and truly sick her head burned and throbbed, and her limbs seemed tottering beneath her. Katie had persuaded her to remain in bed for a few hours, and what was bar surprise to see the servant come into her room and commence packing her trunk. " I'm going away, Miss Candice! Indade I'll not stay here to be scolded for doing the right as well as the wrong ! She scolds me for using top much wood, and when I want to use the irons while they are hot to save the wood she scolds me for that, and shure a pore Irish gurl can't suit the likes of her !" "Katie, where will you go?" Candice asked, anxiously. "To Chicago, Miss Candice. My brother, Pat Maguire, has a bit of a shop there, and he would be glad to have Katie tend it for him. Many's the time he's said, 'Katie, you nads not be wurking out ; come and ive with me !' " "Ob ! Katie, how can I get along without you ?" Candice said, sadly, seeing Katie was determined on going. "After you are crone, I'll have no friend on earth !" " Don't say that, Miss Candice, jewel of my heart !" Katie exclaimed, earnestly. " Shure if you ever made a friend, Katie will be one to you 1 ' Candice had her arms about Katie's neck now, and was sobbing bitterly. "Oh ! Katie ! Katie ! if I could go too ! You know not how much I am in need of friends " Hush ! Miss Candice !" Katie said, sobing softly, but trying to speak cheerfully through her tears. " When the burden gets too heavy for the back to carry, then come to Katie ; she will wurruk for you, if nade may be. Shure, Katie Maguire never forgets the ones that are kindest to her!" Katie packed her trunk, quickly donned hat and shawl, and hurried to the nearest railroad station, about half a mile from there, and sent a boy back after her belongings. That was the first Mrs Maynard knew o the occurrence. She had not been near the kitchen since morning, and supposed Katie was still there. What, therefore, was her di3may when the boy came, stating that Katie Maguire had sent him for her trunk ! " Where is Katie ?" Mrs Maynard asked anxiously. "At the station, ma'am," the boy said, respectfu ly t " waiting for the Chicago train. She said I was to hurry back." " Wait here," Mr& Maynard said, quickly, and hurrying through the dining-room straight to the kitchen, she paused and looked about her. The dishes were washed and put away, but it was nearly dinnertime and no preparations had been made for the midday meal. In the middle of the room the ironing-board stood, held by two chairs, and Mark's shirt lay on it, with the bosom still unironed. The kitchen was uninhabited save by a large Maltese cat, purring in the open door- way . Mrs Maynard saw at a glance how matters were, and hurrying up the back stairs entered Katje's room. Candice lay on the bed, sobbing bitterly. "Where is Katie?" Mrs Maynard asked quickly, eyeing the sobbing girl angrily. Candice sprang up nervously. [ " She has gone, Mrs Maynard !" "Gone, Candice, and you moping up here !" her aunt said, harshly. , "You must come down and help with the -dj nn 0 r work,| and not be idling away your time. " She did not ask , Candice the cauße of her grief, but seemed to take it as & personal /offence against, her own dignity. ' \ Glancing at' Katie's trunk sitting on the landing where; the Irish girl had dragged -it/ she -^hurried down and Bent the boy after it.

Candice, rising, dragged her weary limbs down to the kitchen, and commenced making preparations for dinner.' 4 It was slow work, for her head throbbed and her lagging feet almost refused to do Her' will. .She thought of kind-hearted Katie speeding on towards Cbioago, and her eyes were dim with tears. Alice Maynard, a tall, graceful blonde, was not wholly bad-hearted, and when she came into the kitchen after a glass of water for Alda, she saw at a glance Candioe was not able to be working there, and told her in a kinder tone than she had used f6r months that she would help her with the work. " I will be so glad, Alice !" Candice said, gratefully. Alice's heart smote her more than once that morning as she watched Candice furtively. It "was winter now, or nearly so, and only eight months before Candice had come to the old farmhouse, bright, bonnie Candice, the very embodiment of youth and health ; now she was wan and spiritless ; the wild rose bloom had disappeared ; she looked Bick, bodily and mentally, and Alice, calling her mother aside after dinner, said, decisively : "Mother, Mark must hunt up another girl this very day, for Candice is sick and cannot do the work. We have been so busy with Uncle Sam and Alda that we have not noticed her lately." " Most likely she has the sulks 1" Mrs Maynard said, coldly. "But, of course, we must have another girl ; you must not spend your time in the kitchen !" So Mark was despatched to hunt up another maid of all work, and came back after nightfall with a big, stolid German girl. Mrs Maynard did not mention to Mark that Candice was ill. She called it a fit of bad temper, but for several days the girl was unable to leave her room. Mark felt many a twinge of conscience whenever he thought of her. Ah ! the confession he was to make seemed further off than ever ; how could he explain before his Uncle Sam and A.lda ? It would be bad enough before his mother and the girls, but to note his Uncle Sam's glance of stern disapproval and to see sweet Alda Lome's eyes shrink from him in aversion, that would be too much ! No, no, he could not nerve himself for the ordeal ! He had pondered over it, considered it often, whenever he caught a glimpse of Candico's sad, pale face, but each time some slight thing had deterred him, and he put it off yet a little longer. Samuel Desbro, a jovial, kind-hearted old man, watched Mark and Alda,and shook hi? head knowingly. What might not happen with two young folks of the opposite sex thrown so constantly together ? Surely ho was not blind ; he could see Alda's face flush in Mark's presence and turn pale at his shortest absence, like a broken lily drooping on its stem. After a time Mark noticed this also ; not, however, with secret exultation; but with a saddened heart ; not with a lovor's fond anticipation, but with a guilty, startled glance, and when Uncle Sam announced his intention of returning to Chicago and opening the big town house he had recently purchased, Mark was glad and told himself so. He would make good bis promise to Candice and tell his mother all ! But tho • best-laid plans are not always carried out, and right in the midst of the preparations an unforeseen event occurred which kept them chained to the old farm house for all the winter months. Leta was to accompany them and enjoy a winter of gay city life. Alda was glad to have a girl of her own owe with her, and the preparations went on gayly. Alice suggested a fresh idea one day " Let's give Alda a farewell party,' she said persuasively to her mother, nnd Mrs Maynard, who entertained fond hopes concerning fair Alda Lome and Mark, consented. "What shall it be, Alda ?" the girls asked her, happy as young, pretty girls always are in the anticipation of an evening's dissipation. "Just a plain ball, or would a bal masque be better ?" *' Oh ! a ball masque" by all means I" Alda said, eagerly, and the girls readily acquiesced. Invitations were sent out two weeks ahead, so everybody would have plen.ty of time to prepare their costumes, and then the girls set joyously to work manufacturing their 07m. Old boxes were rummaged and antique dresses brought to light that Mrs Maynard had worn in her girlhood. Alda's trunks were searched, and many an odi-looking garment brought forth, relics from far-off India, and soon the costumes were completed amid girlish chatter and merry laughter. Candice in her own little room, which had been vacated when cold weather set in by the young artist and her pupils, listened to the girlish chatter going on in the room below, and formed a wild, foolish scheme of her own. She too would go to the ball, and as one of the maskers, mingle for once among the family and guests. She had heard laughing allusions made by the sifters about Mark and Alda, and with a determination born of despair resolved to see and judge for herself ; if it were so, she wouid go out of their lives for ever ! She had formed no definite plan concerning her own future ; she only knew she could not live under theMaynard roof longer if it were true that Mark, her husband, loved fair Alda Lome. She did not think that merely showing her certificate to the family would Drove her right as Mark's wife, for not for one moment would she force her presence upon him if he had ceased to love her. Poor, innocent child ! she thought to go out of his life entirely and leave no trace behind ; then he could wed the one he loved ! Her mother's mourning garments were folded carefully away. She brought them out and fitted them on herself. She would go as a widow, for if it were true and Mark loved Alda and regretted marrying her, wa3 she not worse than widowed ? Better, far better, to lose your loved onus by death's cold embrace than to have them go from you in the full vigour of youth and fairness ! Yes, as a widow she would attend the ball, and as a widow would she go out in the world, if this cruel thing was indeed true, for then she could not, she dare not, remain longer !