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THE "WEEKLY LEDGER; GAFFNEY, 8. C., DECEMBER S, 1805. c/)v fyr/iat</ c/ls&fy. 3^ CoermLHT UtS ^ ^ CHAPTER XX. AX INTERESTING UNCLE. One bright summer's clay, Mrs. Frank Grey ran clown the walk to the garden gate of her pretty new house to meet her husband, on his return from his of fice. It was not? long after a gay little wedding, which had turned Elsie Whit- ford into Elsie Grey, and made two young people supremely happy. “Frank, darling!'’ was the young wife’s glad greeting; “what do you think 1 have found to-day?’’ “Another lost baby?” “No, indeed; but a real live—very much alive—uncle, Prank.” “You are joking?” “I never was more serious. He came all the way from England on purpose to see me, and i don't like him one lit tle bit. Frank, I do absolutely believe the horrid man was going to kiss me!” “Shows he has good taste, at any rate. Is he the corporal's brother?” “Why, don't you know the Whitfords are not my real father and mother, Frank?” Frank stared in amazement. “And you were not Elsie Whitford?” “Not myself at all, you stupid dear, but it appears my mother died in my infancy and I was left to the care of Uncle Jacob Gregson, the gentleman who called here to-day, who put me in charge of Mrs. Whitford, paying her large sums for my support.” “Where is your uncle?” “At the Tilft house. I promised that E ou would go up to the hotel this even- ig and call on him.” “So I will.” “Don't be prejudiced, Frank, but I fear he is not a bit nice.” “Rough, eh?” “No, but, oh, so intensely vulgar— however, you must form your own con clusions.” And Frank's conclusions were the same as Elsie’s. He had not been in Mr. Gregson’s presence li ‘'minutes be fore he mentally declared him to be the most insufferable cad he had ever met, and only to be tolerated for Elsie's sake. “So you're the chap that's caught the golden pigeon—rather a bit of a prig. I expect, but might be worse,” was the courteous greeting of the showy stranger. “You are very candid,” Frank smiled. “Candid! Jacob Gregson s truth it self. Just ring that bell by your hand and let us have a nip of brandy, for talkin's dry work.” “Not for me.” “Well, I thought you were a prig. Do you smoke?” “With pleasure. Thank you.” He took one of Greg.>on’s cigars, though he distrusted it. “Well, that’s something in your fa vor. Now, see here, young man. IV* come across the raging ocean—which, by George! 1 hate with all my soul—to see your wife on most important busi ness, but now she’s married. Accord ing to English law she’s nobody, an' you, her husband, are everybody; con sequently, I’m driven to men matters to you.” “You’ll find me keenly alive to my wife’s interests." “Devil doubt you; but I want to find you alive to mine, too.” “To yours?” “Yes, the game lies in ray hands. Here’s a young woman entitled to n large fortune; here’s a young man mar ries her; here’s an enterprising uncle— a kind, good uncle, on whose bosom sic lay an innocent babe, whose hard-won ducats have for years supported her. Now the kind uncle says to the ni u young man, says he: ‘You can nevei learn one word of your wife’s fortune without my aid.’ An’ the young m m says”—he paused, and, with a drunken leer, winked expressively at Grey— “what do you think the young mao says?” Frank smiled. “The young man,” he declared, “says he would deal very liberally with the kind uncle.” “Spoken like a brickl Tip us ycr flipper, old chap. You're the right sort after all.” “Well, what dot's the kind uncle pro pose* to do?” , “He means to give that nice young man a cool fifty thousand dollars a year.” Grey started with incredulous won derment. “Impossible,” was all he could ejacu late. “Why, man, you must be dream ing.” He did not say drunk, though he thought it. “I knew that *ud take the starch out of you, but it’s gospel truth—ah, you didn't think you’d gone in for such big stakes, when you married the little gal, did yer?” “If Elsie had never a cent—” “Oh, yes. I know all about that bosh. You’re in your calf love now, an’life's all molasses an’ moonshine. She'll be all the sweeter for golden triinmin’s, you bet ycr life.” Grey felt a strong inclination to kick his wife’s irrepressible relative. Gregson drew from his pocket a legally prepared contract, securing to himself liberal compensation in case of Frank Grey’s accession to the unnamed fortune and cried exultingly: “Sign that document, my boy, an’ the estate is yours.” Grey signed like one in a dream. “Far away in England lives an old bloke,” Mr. Gregson began, with a sen timental tone and expression, "named Sir Gordon Ilillborough, who had one child, Richard, who was rather a wild young cuss. When this youth was still young an’ green he secretly mar ried my niece, a young country girl of seventeen.” "Elsie's mother!” Grev interpolated. “How glad she will bo to hear about her. ” “She di d—was killed by a railroad train, before Elsie was six weeks old." ‘How lilu -king! I hate to tell her anything so sad.” Gregson ignored the interruption and continued his story: “Of course the lad kept his marriage secret.” “Why of course?” “Oh! you don’t understand such thin s in this country, where Jack is as good an his master—she was beneath liim—that’s all.” “In rank?” “Exactly. Now, very soon after the marriage they separated. lie went Into the army. She stayed with me. Then the baby was born and she died, and young Ilillborough married again, and went with his wife to India.” “Leaving Elsie?” “Pshawl lie knew nothing about her—didn’t know of her existence.” “Well?” “Well, the whole story was sprung on the old gent.” “By whom?” “By me, if you must know; but I shall never gat through my story, if you ask so many questions.” “Well, go on.” “And it was agreed that the child should be suppressed.” “Suppressed!” “Yes, shipped abroad under another name.” “And that child is—” “Your wife as sure as shootin’I” “And her father went to India and raised a second family—” “He didn’t. He an’ his wife were killed by cholera, an’now the old gent’s got a streak of remorse—never could / !? St 1 & J? ffMl wi “sign that document." afford a conscience myself—an’s just as anxious to get his granddaughter back as he once was to get rid of her.” “Surely, you could have found her before this?” “I ll bd hanged if I could, for the lit* tie minx has kept herself as close as a weasel. The Whitfords played it on me, too, an’ I never got her address till two days ago.” “How can we prove Elsie’s identity?" asked Grey cautiously. “I've got them fixed to perfection; testimony, birthmarks, everything— you leave that part of the business to me.” “And have you any proofs to give me of the truthfulness of your story?” “Lord, what a lad you are for proofs! One would think you were dry nursed by a lawyer. Well, dollars talk, don’t they; loud and clear; and there’s no mis- understandin’ them. See: I’ll go straight to England, an’ before three weeks have passed—if I ever get alive across that cussed sea—Sir Gordon shall cable you expenses to bring your wife to England.” Late as it was, when Frank reached home, a council of war was called, for as luck would have it, Mr. and Mrs. Wood grove had stepped across the street to spend the evening with the young wife, and they sat enthralled, while lie related the romantic story of Elsie’s birth ami parentage. And when he hud done, their tongues did wag! “I'm not a bit surprised," asserted Mrs. Wood grove. “I always looked on Elsie as a disguised princess.” “Turns out to be a swan when we ull thought her a barnyard duckling," Frank laughed. “Come here, you serene highness,” Iho old gentleman demanded, “and graciously give me a kiss. Perhaps when you are ruling in your ancestral mansion, surrounded by your gorgeous flunkies, you may be above gratifying the whims of an old lumber merchant." “Wherever 1 am, whatever I am," Elsie cried, her arm wound lovingly round his neck, “1 shall never forget ail 1 owe to you and —’’she paused to grasp his wife’s hand—“my dear, dear motherl” CHAPTER XXL A NOBLE COUNT. “News, news, news! What will you give me to tell you the most wonderful P' ece of news you ever heard?” Mr Wood grove asked at breakfast one morning. Now, though the young people had a house of their own across the way, they took their meals in the Woodgrove mansion, and consequently were pres ent at tlds exciting moment. "Good or bad?” Mrs. Woodgrove asked. “Good, royal, grand.” “Of whom?” demanded Elsie. “Of u friend of yours, ray dear." “Oh, do tell; 1 am burning to know it.” “Then hold your tongue, love,” Mrs. Woodgrove said, laughing, r ‘for Mar- < i could not keep a secret for five eon- i culive minutes.” ‘Well,” remarked the old man, “I iy us well paralyze you at once—Mrs. C; ircnce Grindlay is going to be mar- rhd." "Oh, Marcus, at her time of lifcl" “Yes, and what's the worst of it—I n hi the best of it—is that she is go- lu ; to w-d u German baron.” *' ,'ot Count Von Thun?” Elsie asked. “Oh, I did not Mm him.” “Did you not. darling? Well, it’s all *> ' tied, so it’s no use crying over spilled milk. Now, here's where we come in. .Marion Is going to give a ball on Wednesday evening to'cxhiblt her lord ly captive, and we arc bidden guests— now, who will go?” “Not I,” Mrs. Woodgrove said, de cisively, “but I should like Frank to take Elsie, and you, Marcus, must ac company them out of respect to Mar ion.” Perhaps In no city of the world can such unbounded, reckless extravagance be witnessed as in New York, the capi tal of the land of republican simplicity. Ostentation and rank seem more natur ally associated, but, bless your life, when John Smith, who never had a recognized grandfather, hns “made his pile” he knows how to lord it with the best of them. The Grindlay mansion on the night of the ball outrivaled Aladdin’s palace. : The flowers for decoration cost five thousand dollars: gorgeous servants— twenty years ago one saw no liveries in the Empire city—brilliant in plush and tinsel, flitted like plumed birds amid a tropical blaze of gold and purple. In the center of the spacious hall a fountain was erected—a lovely marble basin, from whose depths naiads blew forth jets of eau-de-cologne or rosewa ter, while from the drooping, bell shaped flowers of a group of astras hung dainty petals tipped with tiny electric lights. Rooms hung with rich draperies, floors covered with carpets from the looms of Turkey, soft and ir responsive to the tread of the foot; ceilings hand-painted and glowing in rich color; fantastic tables and chairs of quaint device; costly inlaid cabinets; rich vases; priceless china—it was like a vision of fairyland, only, after all, as sensible Marcus Woodgrove observed, it was the fairyland of the stage—one could not help expecting to see Harle quin plunge through an old “family picture” (!) or Columbine pirouetting on the polished floor. No man in his senses would dare a description of the fail owner of these delights. She was radiant as a dream, for Worth had out-Wortbed himself for the occasion; yet, as one gazed at the diamonds, sparkling like dew drops over skirt and bodice, one couldn’t help wondering how much she would fetch at auction if sold just as she stood. Baron Von Thun must be a proud man this night to survey these count less signs of untold wealth and say: “In seven days all this shall be mine.” Elsie, in her white robe and simple wreath of flowers, looked like a snow drop which had tumbled into a gor geous bed of tulips. She had one little shadow of disappointment. Frank, her darling Frank, was not flawless, he, all ungifted with the natural perception of the beautiful, which his wife in stinctively enjoyed, saw nothing incon gruous, no lack of harmony in all the barbaric pomp around him, nay, even reveled in its very gorgeousness. Mr. Woodgrove was, as he put it, “mad clean through.” “She might have founded a hospital with what to-night’s flummery will cost her,” he said indignantly, “and all in honor of a foreigner.” Two gushing girls passed at that mo ment, and Elsie was amused to hear them murmur: “Oh, the dear, dear baron.” “Isn’t he a love?” “So distinguished looking!” “Such an air.” “But his accent, they say, is not very good.” “Pshaw, dear, you couldn’t expect a baron to talk like a college professor. Such a man sets the fashion of pro nunciation.” “To be sure he does. Oh, isn’t Mrs. Grindlay lucky to have captured him? Why, a hundred handsome girls with oceans of money would have jumped at him.” But see! The baron approaches our little group with his promised bride upon his arm. Elsie was overwhelmed with con fusion; but the older lady was too happy to be ungracious. “My dearest,” she gushed, “I am charmed to see you. Uncle, it is good of you to have come. Let me present the guest of the evening, Baron Albert von Thun of Carlsbad.” Elsie curtsied, the count bowed. They had met before; but Mr. Wood- grove scandalized his niece by seizing the baron’s hand and shaking it heart ily and assuring him of his pkasure In meeting him. TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK. Here’s the flessage Tlie • *? IVo. Oaio oj reater importanee to the * people. * far 4V T he most remarkable cures on record have been accomplished by Hood’s Sarsaparilla. It is unequalled for all BLOOD DISEASES. Printing! We equal any in the world. Our patrons recommend us. All "work guar anteed and com petition met. THE LEDGER. THROUGH the rugged road of modern merchandising we keep steadily lead ing the way, lessening the way at every possible chance, so that all trade you entrust to our care is so satisfac torily done that you come again and again. As sure as the sun rises, we do better by you than other merchants. We make this statement without any “ifs” or “buts”. That our arrange ments for buying is better than our competitors and that your purse, big or little, will go further here than else where is a settled fact. We make no prices in our advertisements, because you could not know the quality of goods, but the hundreds of customers who visit our store daily are living wit nesses to our prices. i mi TJ nxler* wetn-. YOU have heard of Mary’s little lamb with fleece as white as snow. If you never felt that fleece just come here and buy some of our underwear for la dies and gentlemen. Don’t think because we have not had any cold weather we will not have any. Clothing;. IT whistled itself. That was the little boy’s excuse when he ac cidentally whistled in school. Just so with our clothing, it sells itself, because it is the correct thing and the prices are right. Bhinlcoti THERE is a sermon in this, oer- haps a funeral sermon. They are the very things our grai mothers strove to make whj___ they spun and wove their own. It don’t matter what your poli tics are we are with you. If you favor free wool our prices gives it to you; if you are for protec tion you get it when wrapped snugly in one of our blankets. Coods. WE have a profusion of indes cribable beauty of dress goods. Bars and stripes an^ pinches of colors thrown on with random, regularity, loops and knots and tangles of silky gay ness that brings out every color and tint. THE climax iscappedby o ur Holiday Display. Eye hath not seen, nor has it entered into the minds of the people, the wonderful things in store for Christmas. You may thank your lucky stars! that in buying a Christmas present for your chil dren and friends you will have such a wide selec tion to make it from. Providence has smiled on you this year, then make your children and friends happy with some nice present. Did you know the little ones’hearts were beating faster now that they are thinking of Christmas? Im pressions made now go with them to the grave. Bring them here to see the Christmas show. * Recollect, Santa Claus has his headquarters here and there is always a welcome for his little ones. | Store Gaffney Manufacturing Company, W. C.