The Butterfly House

here was a verandah column wound with a massive wistaria vine near the window of the baby's room. The little nurse girl went home every night, and Ja

rulous wail of a baby squirming uncomfortably upon drawn work centre pieces, and crepe kimonas. Now and then the boy stopped and spoke to the baby in a lovely gentle voice. He promised it food, and shelter soon in his own soft tongue. He was carrying it to his wife's mother, and sullen as he looked and was, and thief as he was, love for his own swayed him, and made him determined to hold it fast. Von Rosen made all possible inquiries. He employed detectives but he never obtained the least clue to the whereabouts of the lit

it," said Von Rosen. "It is something to hav

tic, especially the women. Bessy Dicky shed tears when talking to Mrs. Sturteva

would have turned out. He might have ended by killing Mr. von Rosen." Th

sy Dicky. Then she rose hastily with a blush because Doct

ered and there was something about her which seemed to justify the use of the diminutive adjective. Possibly it was her face, which was really small and very pretty, with perfect cameo-like features and an odd, deprecating, almost painfully humble expression. It was the face of a creature entirely capable of asking an enemy's pardon for an injury inflicted upon herself. In reality, Annie Eustace had very much that attitude of soul. She always considered the wrong as her natural place, and, in fact, would not have been comfortable elsewhere, although she suffered there. And yet, little Annie Eustace was a gifted creature. There was probably not a person in Fairbridge who had been so well endowed by nature, but her environment and up-bringing had been unfortunate. If Annie's mother had lived, the daughter might have had more spirit, but she had died when Annie was a b

everal years), but she loved only three,-two were women, Margaret Edes and Alic

an arm they hitched uncomfortably. The neck arrangement was exceedingly unbecoming, and the skirt not well hung. The green was of the particular shade which made her

green, if you will excuse my saying

e would have excused her idol for saying anything. "

ut of sorts about her failure to secure Lydia Greenway tha

ossible for you and why,-I trust you will not be offended, you know it

ose who inherit the earth. She did not state that her aunt Harriet had in

as beautiful as Helen of Troy, should wear

When one has been downtrodden one's whole life, one become

lf in my glass just before I came

," said

oo much of her intellectual forehead, and the colour of her gown killed all the pink bloom lights in her face

at embroidery at all

a sort of meek amusement. "I don't think

h do you att

t state that her grandmother had made taking the

f salve for her own disappointment in this irritant applied t

her father's and mother's, and a departed sister's hair in a neat little twist under a small crystal, grated upon her in

ave me such a present as that, I would never

state that her Aunt Jane never allowed her to b

he summed up all her mood of petty cruelty a

o used to being underrated, that she had become in a measure immune to criticism, and besides criticism from

All this was too much like raini

stop doing that awful embroidery if you

fairly rasping, was as awe-inspiring as her grandmother. Annie Eustace hesitated for a second. Her grandmother had commanded. Margaret Edes had commanded. The strongest impulse of her whole being was obedience, but she loved Margaret, and she did not love her grandmother. She had never confessed such a horror to herself, but one does not love another human being whose main aim toward one is to compress, to stiffen, to make move i

t of expectation, and the somewhat mussy little parcel of linen lay in her lap. Annie

since Margaret did not, and she said exactly the wrong thing. The being forced continually into the wrong, oft

have said nothing more hapless to Margaret Edes in her present mood. Quite inadvertently, she herself became the irrit

Mrs. Sarah Joy Snyder's address wa

ecause they are expected to, and they did that afternoon. Everything was simply cut and dried. It

ontradicted. Margaret continued. She felt that she could no longer conc

meeting, something which has never been done,

ovely!" cr

the real good and progress of a club like ours, s

, w

ou know she is really a great artist, come to

he?" gasped

t, "but I was prepared, quite prepared, to make some sacrifices for the

ed guiltil

o exist without keeping more in touch w

ng so much information, so much cheap information concerning the evil in the world, especially for a you

us air. "Lydia Greenway was obliged to leave unexpectedly and go

would be if such a talented young actress should fall a victim of such a terrible disease, and what a loss she would be to the pu

ike Mrs. Slade and Mrs. Sturtevant seem determined to keep them," returned Margaret testily. Annie stared at her. Margare

en such a wonderful thing for us all to have had Lydia Greenway give dramatic

e and silk with the leaf-shadows playing over the slender whiteness. She lifted one little hand tragically. "Progress," she rep

em, but I too feel that we all travel in a rut sometimes. Perhaps we all walk too much the same way." Then suddenly Annie burst into a peal of laughter. She had a sense of humour which was startling. It was the one t

aughing at now?" inquire

vivals of species, but anyway, the little long-legged ones all walked just the same way in a file behind a tall long-legged one, who walked precisely in the same way, and

ure. "I," said she, "see nothing whatever

t, I don't!"

nstitution in this little place which ten

ed voice. "And my heart was almost broken because I had to miss that

h to miss," said Margaret, for Ann

as being accused of disloyalty, or worse, of actually poking fun, when something

what it means to me. It really does take me out of my little narrow place in life as nothing

o join the Fairbridge Card Club. She never attended a play in the city, because Aunt Jane considered plays wicked. It was in reality doubtful if she would have been permitted to listen to Lydia Greenway, had that person been available. Annie's sole large recreation was the Zenith Club, and it meant, as she had said, much to her. It was to the stifled young heart as a great wind of stimulus which was for the strengthening of her soul. Whatever the Zenith Club of Fairbridge was to others, it was very much worth while for little Annie Eustace. She wrote papers for it, which were astonishing, although her hearers dimly appreciated the fact, not because of dulness, but because little Annie had written them, and it seemed incredible to Fairbridge women that little Annie Eustace whom they had alwa

herself about it. "Haven't you something else written that you can show me?" She had even suggested the possibility, the desirability, o

cussion, and the display of her own brilliancy. Annie's productions were so modestly conclusive as to apparently afford no standing ground for

. "The Zenith Club is the one and only thing which lifts Fairbridge, and

d of the sequential order. By subtle processes, unanalysable even by herself, even the record of Miss Bessy Dicky started this mind upon momentous trains of thought. Unquestionably the Zenith Club acted as a fulminate for little Annie Eustace. To others it might seem, during some of the sessions, as a pathetic attempt of village women to raise themselves upon tiptoes enough to peer over their centuries of weedy feminine growth; an attempt which was as futile, and even ridic

nway," said Annie, and this tim

to failure every time one really made an

"if we could get Miss Martha Wallingford to read a selection from Hearts Astray at a meeting of the club. I read a few nights ago, in a paper I ha

ashion, "That book of hers had an enormous sale. I suppose her publishers feel that they owe

not reply. She was thinking intently. "It would be a great feature for

ver does such things, and is very retiring. I read in the papers that she was, a

sk her," sa

d had many invitations to Women's Clubs and had refused. I don't

once, her face was actually contracted with thoug

Maida and Adelaide raced up the steps, followed by

without waiting for a reply, "If Martha Wallingford

candy, glanced at their mother, then Maida chased Adelaide into the ho

She herself had been most carefully trained concerning manners of incoming and outgoing. She, however, did n

y." She glanced rather apprehensively as she spoke at the larg

be seated, her grandmother, her Aunt Harriet, and her Aunt Jane. Aunt Harriet behind the silver tea service; Aunt Jane behind the cut glass bowl of preserves; her grandmother behind the silver butter dish, and on the table would be the hot biscuits cooling, the omelet falling, the tea drawing too long and all because of her. There was tremendous etiquette in the Eustace family. Not a cup of tea would Aunt Harriet pour, not a spoon would Aunt Jane dip into the preserves, not a butter ball would her grandmother impale upon the little silver fork. And poor Hannah, the maid, white aproned and capped, would stand behind Aunt Harriet like a miserable conscious graven image. Therefore Annie ran, and ran, and it happened that she ran rather heedlessly and blindly and dropped her mussy little package of fancy work, and Karl von Rosen, coming out of the parsonage, saw it fall and picked it up rather gingerly, and called as loudly as was decorous after the flying figure, but Annie did not hear and Von Rosen did not want to shout, neither did he want, or rather think it advisable, to run, therefore he followed holding the linen package well away from him, as if it were a disagreeable insect. He had never seen much of Annie Eustace. Now and then he called upon one of her aunts, who avowed her preference for his religious denomination, but if he saw Annie at all, she was seated engaged upon some such doubtfully ornamental or useful

l, and he began to understand that he was making himself ridiculous to possible observers in windows. He therefore slackened his pace, and met Annie upon her return. She had a letter i

apable of laughter. "You would not blame me if you had to embroider daisies on th

e you at all," he replied. "I can understand

on Rosen-" An

Von Rosen en

I never go

ously. He really did not know

in Annie hesitated, while the y

eally like to go occasionally," she sai

would," assented Von Ro

dmother is old and she has no

cour

nit although she does think I should embroider daisies, and she does like to have me play pinocle with her Sunday mornings, when Aunt Harriet and Aunt Jane are out of the way. It is the only chance

grave conviction and he was charmed that the girl re

right," said Annie Eustace, "but I

n Rosen, "and I would make an espe

et often hears you preach one

he light from her eyes. She lost her beauty in a great measure. She bowed stiffly, saying: "I thank you very much, good evening," and

ed past, almost jostling him from the sidewalk. Maida carried a letter, which her mother had written, and d

sturbed her, as the meeting of the hero of a dream always disturbs a true maiden who has not lost through many such

te. There stood Hannah, white capped and white aproned, holding the silver serving tray like a petrified statue of severity, and not one of them spoke, but their silence, their dignified, reproachful silence was infinitely worse than a torrent of invective. How Annie wished they would speak. How she wished that she could speak herself, but she knew better than

was after supper that evening, that Annie strolled a little way down the street, taking advantage of Miss Bessy Dicky's dropping in for a call, to slink unobserved out of her shadowy corner, for the Eustaces were fond of sitting in the twilight. The wind had come up, the violent strong wind which comes out of the south, and Annie walked very near the barberry hedge which surrounded Doctor Sturtevant's grounds, and the green muslin lashed against it to its undoing. When Annie returned, the skirt was dev

girls getting about in the remnants of her ghastl

ess. She smiled still more when Aunt Jane said that now as the cross-barred white was to be worn every day, another dress must be

ansformed the village street, like the wings of angels, and she heard voices and laughter from the Edes' house opposite. Then Margar

he mind of the singer after she went to bed that night, she would have shuddered more, for Margaret Edes was pla