Old Valentines / A Love Story

tood s

down her kindly face, held Phyllis away f

deary dear. How ever d

-and this was the last place--" Phyllis faltered. She turned to John, and then to Mrs. Farquharson. "This is Mr. Landless, my-this is my dear, dear old Nurs

shook

like you," said John

my house with her husband, looking for a place to live, and me with three r

d to Phyl

aid, "while I get-though maybe you would like to look at them first. Yes

you suggest that we shou

in the house unoccupied. This way,-these are the rooms, Miss-my dear. And as I says to the young gentleman-your husband, that is-the sitting-room is that coz

harson was laughing or crying. Phyllis

get up again,"

Mrs. Farquharso

r hat. He managed it finally, and a loose strand of beau

aid. John's heart was too full for speech.

o large, but how welcome to her aching feet. One of her shoes, upturned, caught Mrs.

ing day! How ever came it? With newspap

n as I have rested a little. Oh! It is good, good, to be with you. I am so glad, so glad. Aren't y

uired Mrs.

, at the other aid of th

you learn? Here, drink this, my deary dear. It will prepare your stomach for something more. I am getting your supper ready now downstairs, and the young gentleman's. There's a chop. Do drink a little of the tea, my dear, even if you do

r," said Phyllis "I have

her head vigorously. "Though he was terrible down on your-To think of that now! And

sured her. "He even advertised for you. I cried for

er eyes with her apron. "And advertised for me. In the papers. Reward off

her again. "I used to tease Burbage when I was nau

bage?" asked Mr

issed you dreadfully. You know, John, my mother and father were away

een of Scots, to a dromedary, I've beheaded her many's the time, and her humps was the pillows off her little bed. If Ge

pper! John did f

ded over Phyllis; but

talk, in which lodgers, rooms, chops, apricots, and t

rooms lined with-what do you think? No, not with books, nor pictures, but with glazed cases containing old patch-boxes and old fans. Mrs. Farquharson had seen Mr.

cence follo

to-day, Pard?' he would ask her of a morning. She would want him to be at his pictures 'On such a sunshiny morning!' he would say. And the next day, maybe, it would rain. 'You know I can't paint

ad no one with whom I could talk about my mother and f

he, 'he thinks I snared Robert. If he only knew how hard I tried to refuse him.' She was wild for a stage career when first they met. It grieved her sorely that your uncle didn't know the rights of it; but, bless your heart, she coul

son mused ove

ow that? Yes, my deary dear, she told me a costume-trunk was her cradle, and a dressing-room the only nursery that ever she knew. She hated to give it all up, but

r darling's eyes gave Mrs. Farquharson occasion for concern. G

rt walk," whispere

nurse; the excitement and fatig

a white-faced poet, his thoughts unutterable, at last

quharson. Her voice was anxio

uld see into the bedroom. The light

he rose, slowly wound up his watch, turned out the gas,

looking out on the quiet square, and at the houses, opposite, emerging from obscurity with the growing light. She steppe

e took the coverlet from her

"Thanks, old chap,"

iptoed ba