She with quick steps bounded upward, till she reached the chamber-door,
Seized her purse, and quick returning, threw it wildly on the floor.
"Take it, Thomas," cried the maiden, with her eyes and cheeks aglow,
"Take it all and welcome—what there is I do not know—
But 'tis yours, ay, ev'ry farthing; gold and precious silver bright,
Only, take good care, dear Thomas, Charlie must not ring to-night!"
She had fled to dress for Freddie; Thomas seeks the front door-bell.
He will muffle up the clapper, in a way he knows full well.
See! The bell is being shaken; 'tis the fateful moment now!
Thomas hastes to "do his dooty," with a firm, determined brow.
Shall he let it ring? No, never; he has touched the guerdon bright,
So he grasps the clapper, whisp'ring, "Charlie shall not ring to-night!"
It was o'er; the youth ceased pulling, and the maiden breathed once more.
But, alas! that fickle maiden wept as maid ne'er wept before
When she learn'd that he who'd called there, promptly at the dinner-hour,
Was the long-expected Freddie, not the hated Charlie Power.
While the tried and trusted Thomas, knowing not her evil plight,
Open'd wide the door for Charlie when that "pusson" called that night!
A SHORT ENCORE
Man wants but little here below,
He's not so hard to please;
But woman (bless her little heart)
Wants everything she sees!
MY DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME
BY EDWARD EVERETT HALE
I am, or rather, was a minister, and was settled in an active, wide-awake town with a bright parish and a charming young wife. At first it was all delightful, but as my duties increased I found myself leading a double life—one for my parish, whom I loved, and the other for a vague public, for whom I did not care two straws. It was then that on my wife's suggestion I looked for a double—some one who would pass for me and fill the many engagements I wanted to shirk. I found him. When he was discovered his name was Dennis Shea, and he was not shaved, had no spectacles, and his style of dress was not at all like mine; but these difficulties were soon surmounted, for, by application to the Judge of Probate, his name was soon changed to Frederick Ingham—my name. As for appearance, he was so much like me that by the united efforts of Polly and myself and a tailor he was made to look the exact image of me. Then in four successive afternoons I taught him four speeches, which were to be his stock in trade:
No. 1—"Very well, thank you; and you?" (This for an answer to casual salutations.)
No. 2—"I am very glad you liked it." (This in response to a compliment on a sermon.)
No. 3—"There has been so much said, and on the whole so well said, that I will not occupy the time." (This for public meetings when called to speak.)