MONTEAGLE.
By Pansy.
CHAPTER I.
“YES,” said Mrs. Hammond, a little sigh in her voice as she spoke, “Mr. Hart is going with us; I don’t know how long he will stay. I’m afraid there is very little on Monteagle to hold him.”
Two children sat on the extreme end of the broken steps; one was pale, thin, hollow-eyed and sorrowful. The other was rosy-cheeked, chubby, and dirty. The pale one was perhaps twelve years old; the other, somewhat younger.
“Only hear that name!” said the hollow-eyed girl. “Monteagle! doesn’t it make you feel cool just to think it over?”
“I didn’t think it over,” said Rosy Cheek. “What is it, and where is it?”