Marion Marlowe in St. Louis, or, A Forger's Bold Deed — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

MY QUEEN. “Pshaw ‘are gone; I feel sure of it,” said joblots sadly. ‘But I have no time to search said Les; the orchestra is beginning. I do tc he] shall find them safe at the hotel. It ould worry me terribly if I didn’t.”’ “You'll find them; I’m sure of it, dear,” said Alma, sweetly ; ‘so come and fix this rose in my hair, there’s a good girl, Marion. \ You know, I always wear one to make me think of Henry.” . “Your lover is fond of roses, isn’t he?” said Marion, thoughtfully. “Mr. Ray is very fond of them, too; they are his favorite flower., If } ever técite that I love him I shall always wear roses.’ Marion was smiling now, and her beautiful eyes sparkled. “And what will you wear when you decide that it is the doctor whom you love and not Archie Ray?” asked Alma, slyly. “T think his favorite flower is the violet,” was the’ blushing answer; then the young girl - burst into a ripple of laughter. “And Bert prefers daisies—field daisies, Alma! Of course, I must consider Bert, for he still insists that I am his sweetheart! And, do you know, Alma, sometimes I think that I, too, love the daisy!” “Oh, I suppose it will go that way; it al- ways does,” said Alma, musingly. “You'll marry Bert yet, you see if you don't; and, oh, dear, what will become of the unfortunate others !”” “First cal!” The words rang out so sharply that both of the girls jumped. “Oh, Bert! Is that you? My, how you startled us!” cried Marion, running to the door. “I was sure it was not time to go down just yet. Why, I am as nervous as anything, and 1 don’t know what has made me so,’ “T know,” began Miss Allyn, and then stopped short. She had caught a glimpse of Lou Leland just outside of the door, and from instinctive caution she did not finish her sentence. / “How is the strike getting on, Bert?” she asked, instead. “Is any one hurt yet, and have you heard from your father?” Bert paused in the doorway, with Lou dit rectly behind him. “There were two men hurt with brick- bats an hour ago,” he said, nervously; “and some one fired a revolver, but it didn’t hap- pen to do any damage! I tell you, Marion, this having a father is awful! Why, when I was an orphan I didn't have a blooming thing ~ to worry about, and now every time I think of the governor facing that mob, I almost wish I was back on the poor farm!’’ “Poor Bert! I understand you perfectly,’ murmured Marion, sympathetically. Lou Leland took a few light steps into a neighboring dressing-room. “I’m glad she understands him, but I’m blessed if I do,’ she muttered under her breath. “But I'll listen a minute, and per- haps I can solve the mystery. There was an- other step in the hallway, and Miss Ellis ap- peared directly behind her. “Hello, Miss Leland,’ she began, in a tone of surprise. “Oh, there you are!” exclaimed Lou, fac- ing the ingénue calmly. ‘“‘I.thought you were here, and I came to borrow a pin. There's not such a thing in my whole theatrical out- fit 1’ Miss Ellis handed her the pin, and Lou promptly made her exit. Ten seconds after she was gone Miss Ellis suddenly came to her senses. “Why, what a fib that was,” she whispered to herself. ‘‘There was a whole paper of pins on her dressing-table not half an hour ago! I'll bet the little red-head was in here lis- tening !” Marion and Bert were still chatting in the doorway of Marion’s room, and for just a minute Miss Ellis was strongly tempted to tell them. “No, I won't,” she ; cae after a few minfites’ reflection. “I won't tell tales; I never did; but I’ll keep my eyes open a lit- tle"SRarper. Let me catch you flirting with ‘ert, you little’ snip, and I'll poke your eyes out with the curling iron!” She waved the weapon she had mentioned threateningly in her excitement, and a scream of laughter from Mrs. Burnside made her turn around suddenly. “Well, of all things! Miss Ellis is on the road to fame atMast!” called the lady, delight- edly. “Why, she is actually practicing tragedy before her mirror!” | Gomirebooks-com