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Patty regarded this plan with favor, and had a project of her own.

"We'll heat the brick oven in the back kitchen, and do our baking in it. You don't know how much better the turkey will be, baked in that oven."

"But, Patty, it will take an ocean of wood to heat it."

"O, there's plenty of dead wood lying around that had better be out of the way," Patty said, and clung to her plan so persistently that I told her to do as she liked.

So she impressed Will into the service, and with a long-handled hoe and a superannuated broom he was set to clean the oven.

I was making cake in the kitchen, and had heard the scraping and shovelling going on for ten minutes or more, when Will came to the door saying:

"Lu, can you bear a little more and not be frightened ?"

"I don't think anything would startle me much now," I replied, half guessing at his meaning.

"Come, then, and see what we've found."

I followed him into the empty, desolate room which had been the scene of the strange phenomena.

There, lying upon a heap of ashes, I saw some pale, disjointed bones-human bones

small and delicate-exhumed at last from their long resting-place.

"It is the skeleton of a woman," said Charlie, Hifting up the bones of the hand. "And see here, Lu!"

It was a plain gold ring that could only have fitted a lady's finger.

That night the remains were quietly buried under a great elm in the pasture.

Patty could never understand why I had so suddenly changed my mind, and determined to have the cooking done by the stove. I had to put up with some sharp innuendoes, but I did not mind them.

After this discovery the midnight noises ceased, and for the six weeks that we remained there was no disturbance. During this time we made cautious inquiries in the neighborhood, and a weird, interesting story, but too horrible to repeat, came to us from the lips of an old crone who had outlived her generation—a story of betrayed love, and cruel murder, whose details may as well be spared.

The law never laid hands on the murderer; though he went down to his grave attended by dark suspicions. And now, after the lapse of half a century, the ashes of the victim testified to his guilt.

SCARLET LILIES.

BY MARIA L. POOL.

Bright on the snow-glare chime the stars-
The ghosts of the summer gone;
Still lies the earth in a frozen dream,
Waiting another dawn.

Cold is the field of lilies now,

As the lips that blessed me there

As the face that smiled in the dusky light
In the frame of its rare gold hair.

O, face of my love, my light, my life!
Come back in this wintry night,

And give to my yearning heart one throb
Of its olden, deep delight!

Let me dream of the lilies' scarlet flush
In that meadow of summery green-
Of the odorous airs from the piny wood,
Breathed over that twilight scene.

O, smile on me once, though in dreams it be,
From eyes that are always mine;
Hold to my pallid lips love's draught

Of crimson, immortal wine.

TAKEN INTO PARTNERSHIP.

BY CLARA AUGUSTA.

JULIET WAYNE felt desolate and downhearted enough. Her boots leaked, and her feet were wet, and she had not money enough in the world to buy a pair of rubbers. If she only had some rubbers, the old boots could be made to answer awhile; but the shoe stores had raised the price of their articles astonishingly. It was all on account of Goodyear's patent; but the precise why and wherefore of the case, Juliet did not understand.

She put up her feet on the hearth of the stove, and contemplated them with a woful countenance. It was so strange, she thought, that number two boots could not be sold any cheaper than number seven. She could not see the philosophy of the thing. One might as well have big feet as little ones, as far as the cost of keeping shod was concerned.

It was raining dismally, and Juliet had a cold in her head, and her eyes were pink, and her nose felt swelled, and her throat dry, as if it had been made into toast. Then she had broken the little ruby brooch which had been her mother's, and been obliged to pin her collar with a brass scarf-pin, that had fallen to her in some kind of a lottery which she had been foolish enough to invest in; and to crown the whole, her landlady, a Mrs. Smith, had just called on her for the week's rent of her room. She wanted the money to buy a new dress for Jane Matilda, her promising daughter.

Jane Matilda was taking lessons on the piano, and had taken to wrapping her hands up in cold cream and kid gloves by night, and spent half the forenoon with an old pair of curling-tongs, getting her hair into natural ringlets.

The grocer's son, around the corner, had been making errands to Mrs. Smith's latelyand once he had asked Jane Matilda to go to the Museum with him; and as he was "well to do," of course it was perfectly proper for Jane Matilda to have a new dress.

Juliet was willing she should have it, only it was entirely out of her power to furnish the means, just at present; and when she told Mrs. Smith so, the good lady flounced out of the room in a pet, and slammed the door behind her. So you see, Juliet had enough

trials to make her feel quite down-hearted. For some years she had been employed in the millinery establishment of Madame Le Baron, and had received very fair wages-for her taste was exquisite, and madame was fully alive to that fact. But suddenly madame had concluded to marry, and Mr. Shoddy, her husband, could not think of allowing her to continue in business. So she closed her store, and she and Mr. Shoddy departed for Europe, fully expecting to astonish all the crowned heads in that locality by their splendor.

Juliet had been out of work for three weeks, the greater part of which time had been spent in seeking another situation. But it was such a dull time, that nobody wanted to employ additional help. The fashionables were all out of town, for it was the middle of July, and it was too early, as yet, to begin to think much about the fall opening.

For herself, Juliet would not have cared so much, because she could have worked somewhere for her board; but she had an old grandmother in the country, who depended entirely upon her. Juliet's uncle, who was a rich farmer, had sent the poor old lady to the almshouse, alleging, as an excuse for his meanness, that she was only his father's second wife, and therefore no relation. But Juliet could not bear to think of the kind old soul in that ungenial place, and so she had paid her board with a nice family, near where Mrs. Barrett had lived all her lifetime, so she was quite at home. And for her sake, Juliet felt as if she must be earning money.

She sat still awhile, as wretched and uncomfortable as she could be, and then she thought she would make a little fire and dry her feet. She took a piece of newspaper from the wood-box, and lighted a match; but just as she was going to hold it to the paper, the word, in large letters-" WANTED-" caught hier eye.

We all have a weakness for this reading of personal columns. I confess to it myself. Not that I ever find anything there "to my advantage," but I like to know what other people want, supposing they can get it. Juliet read the notice:

"WANTED:-A smart, active woman, who

possesses undeniably good taste, as a partner in a well-known millinery establishment. One month's trial required, and if she be found suitable, her capacities will be considered an equivalent for capital, and she will be taken into partnership, with one third of the profits by way of remuneration. Call on Mrs. La Rue, 118 S- street."

It was rather a peculiar advertisement, but then Juliet had heard of such things. She understood well enough that Mrs. La Rue intended that the taste and business capacity of the person required should be such that her attachment to the establishment would be equivalent to one third of the income.

"A smart, active woman," said Juliet, thoughtfully, quoting from the advertisement. "Undeniably good taste." I wonder if I can claim as much? Anyway, I mean to make application for the place. The worst she can say is no. I'd like to know if Mrs. La Rue will object to me on account of my shoes? Dress goes a great way with some people. And there is a darn in the side breadth of my dress, but I can manage to keep that out of sight under my shawl."

Juliet got up, smoothed back her hair, and held some cold water to her red eyes. Then she put on her little round straw hat, with its black trimmings and the bunch of blue forget-me-nots, just the color of her eyes; and her carefully-kept stella shawl, with the salmon and blue border.

The little hat was wonderfully becoming, and Juliet Wayne was fresh and pretty as a daisy, notwithstanding her wet feet and the cold in her head.

She had one of those clear complexions that nothing ever mars or injures-flushed with pink in the cheeks and lips, and her bue eyes were the sweetest eyes you ever looked into; clear, calm and truthful, and not afraid to meet your most searching gaze. Then her hair was a light brown, and it had a way of breaking all up into ripples and curls, especially on wet days; and by the time she had reached S-street, it would have made a hair-dresser mad with envy, to see how delectably it had curled and twisted over her white temples.

No. 118 was a large, marble front building, with plate-glass windows, and a broad, arched doorway, over which hung the sign, in great gilt letters:

"G. LA RUE.
MILLINERY."

Considerably impressed by the splendor of

the establishment, Juliet stepped inside the door, beginning to feel very much like a criminal, as she glanced down the long room and saw the half dozen elegantly-dressed girls, who were attending on the customers. To one of them, Juliet managed to say:

"I wish to see Mrs. La Rue."

"Go down the passage to the left-first right hand door," said the girl, glancing at Juliet's dress, and fixing her sharp eyes exactly on that darn, which Juliet had forgotten to keep covered with her shawl.

Juliet blushed, and turned away quickly. She read the girl's thoughts correctly enough -she was wondering what a person with a dress like that could want with Mrs. La Rue. Juliet tapped at the "first right hand door," and received an invitation to come in.

Mrs. La Rue was an elderly lady, with a keen, shrewd face, and a thoroughly business air. She was seated in the midst of lace, and ribbons, and bonnet silks, arranging and selecting for a girl in the back shop to make up for customers.

"You advertised—” began Juliet.

"O-ah! And you want the position, do you?" said the lady, running her eye over Juliet in a flash. "The advertisement did not say we wanted a girl not out of her teens." "I beg your pardon, madam. I am twentyfour."

"You are, eh? Well, what can you do?" "I am willing to show you." "Where have you worked ?" "For Madame Le Baron."

"And she has married and closed her shop?" "Yes, madam."

"Take off your hat and shawl, and make a bonnet out of this mauve silk."

"Is it for a blonde or a brunette ?" "A brunette, sallow as a Spaniard." "How shall I make it ?"

"I give no advice. Use your own judgment. Expense is no object. The lady wants it pretty and becoming."

Juliet understood that Mrs. La Rue was eccentric, and fell in with her mood at once. She laid aside her things, and went to work.

Mrs. La Rue went off, and was gone two hours or more. When she returned, Juliet gave her the bonnet all completed.

The lady looked it over with a critical eye. It was a beautiful creation, and no one could fail to be pleased with it.

"You will do," said Mrs. La Rue, concisely. "I will take you. You understand the terms? You are to remain on a salary for one month,

in order that we may decide whether you will meet our requirements, and at the end of that time, if everything is satisfactory, you will be received to a third partnership. Will that please you?"

"Yes, madam."

"Well, you can go home now, and rest today; and to-morrow get on a decent dress, and come here by ten o'clock prepared to go to work."

"Excuse me," said Juliet, with dignity, "this is the best dress I have. I am sorry if it will not-"

"Good gracious!" cried the lady, in evident surprise. "What have you done with your wages ?"

“I have an old grandmother, madam, whose wants I supply; and after paying my own board, there is not much left for finery."

"No, I should think not. Here-" she took out her portemonnaie, and began counting over bills-"here are fifty dollars, the first two weeks of your salary. We paid Miss Burley a hundred dollars a month for being forewoman, and the jade got married and left us. I will pay you the same. Get you a dress, and come as soon afterward as possible. You see I trust you to be honest. And don't pin your collar again with that wretched little brass pin."

Juliet took the money which seemed such a fortune to her, thanked the lady and departed. She went direct to a dry goods store, and purchased two dresses. One a buff muslin for warm days, the other a blue merino for days when it was cold and rainy. She carried the cloth to Miss Bastings, who was a very expert dressmaker, and Miss Bastings fitted her, and agreed to have the merino done the next day by ten o'clock. She had two assistants, and she guessed she could manage it. Then Juliet went and bought a pair of boots, got her ruby brooch mended, paid Mrs. Smith, curled her hair, and felt like a new creature.

Where is the use of slandering money to such a degree as some people delight to do? See how happy fifty dollars made our heroine. The ensuing day the blue merino came promptly. It was trimmed with black velvet, and was a perfect fit, and so very becoming that Juliet looked twice in the glass after fastening her collar-ostensibly to see if the brooch was in straight, but we all know that the little witch was only admiring the charming contrast between the gold of her hair and the azure of the new dress.

Mrs. La Rue scanned her critically, but found no fault, and forthwith she was presented to the shop girls as the forewoman.

After that, Mrs. La Rue was absent for the most part, and Juliet gave her orders, and issued her commands, without let or hindrance. She was the real mistress of the whole establishment.

In three weeks it was known all over the city that Mrs. La Rue had secured the ser vices of a lady just from Paris—a story never loses anything by travelling from one person to another-and Juliet was transformed int a lady just from Paris in this way. The mos charmingly delightful things were created there, the ladies said, and forthwith all the dear creatures rushed to La Rue's, and orders flowed in faster than they could be filled.

Juliet's month of probation was just out, when one morning Mrs. La Rue came into the store accompanied by a tall, handsome man of about thirty. She took him to the work-room, and just as the door closed upon them, Juliet came in from the street.

"Well," said Mary Giles, one of the girls, "Mr. La Rue has arrived at last."

"Mr. La Rue?" said Juliet, inquiringly. "I thought madam was a widow."

"So she is," said Mary. "This young gentleman is her nephew, the proprietor of the store."

"The proprietor? Really I do not understand."

"You are to be his partner," laughed Mary. "Is it possible you did not know that Mrs. La Rue was only here while her nephew, the owner of the establishment, was absent in Paris?"

"Certainly I did not," said Juliet, with a heightened color, and wondering if Mr. La Rue had sanctioned his aunt in the getting up of that advertisement.

The door of the work-room opened, and Mrs. La Rue looked out.

"Ah, here you are!" she exclaimed, at sight of Juliet. "Come in at once, if you please, Miss Wayne. Allow me to present to you your partner, Mr. La Rue."

Mr. La Rue extended his hand and took the fingers Miss Wayne mechanically extended.

"I trust your relations will be amicable," went on voluble Mrs. La Rue, "and I regret that I must leave you to get acquainted by yourselves, but I have received a summons which calls ine home at once. It is so fortunate my nephew arrived just as he did!

Well, good-by; the train leaves at eleven, and it is nearly that now. I have just time to get to the depot. Good-by, Gerard." She kissed him hurriedly, shook hands with Juliet and was off.

Juliet did not know whether to laugh or ery, and Mr. La Rue appeared to be in very nearly the same state of mind. Finally he seemed to recover himself, and awake to the fact that it was necessary to say something.

"My excellent aunt is a little eccentric, Miss Wayne, but I trust we shall be amicable. I needed very much an assistant in my business, and I left the selection to her; and I am happy in believing that her choice is a judicious one."

And after making this fine speech, Mr. La Rue produced a paper which he read to Juliet; but she did not gather its meaning very fully, I am afraid. However, he condescended to explain to her that it was the paper which gave her a right to a partnership in the business, which would henceforth be managed under the name of La Rue & Co.

Her signature was necessary, he said. And she wrote her name, without having any very clear idea why she was doing so.

Then Mr. La Rue went off and left her, and she took to thinking over what kind of a looking man he was, and wondering what on earth had induced him to trust his aunt to get him a partner.

Decidedly he was fine-looking. Tall, and well-made, with a dark face lighted by great, luminous, brown eyes, and framed in jet black hair. He would have made a sensation almost anywhere.

He did not stay a great deal at the store. He had some other business which occupied much of his time, and it was evident he trusted his partner perfectly.

At the close of six months of partnership, Juliet received her share of the profits-and it was a larger sum than ever the girl had set eyes on in all her life before. Why, she felt rich as a queen.

One morning a new customer appeared. Miss Howardson, Mary Giles informed Juliet, the woman Mr. La Rue was to marry.

"He has been engaged to her for two years, they say," remarked the girl, in a low tone.

Juliet was adding up a column of figures, and she went back and added them over again before she looked up.

Such a superb woman she had never seen. Tall, finely-developed, with one of those rarely brilliant faces one so seldom sees out of a

picture. The great black eyes were soft as summer moonlight, and the red lips ripe and delicious as meadow st: awberries.

She ordered a bonnet-she had been told that Miss Wayne had the best taste of any artiste in the city.

Miss Wayne bowed, and hoped she should be able to please her.

And then Miss Howardson drew on her buff gloves, and was at the door just as Mr. La Rue arrived with his fine pair of grays, and they went off riding together.

"A handsome couple,” said Miss Giles. "O dear! I wish I had been born rich. Don't you wish the same thing for yourself, Miss Wayne?"

"O, I do not know," said Juliet. "Riches bring care, they say."

"I wouldn't mind the care," said Mary.

A few nights afterward, Mr. La Rue came in quite late-in fact only just before the establishment was to be closed. He came into the work-room, where Juliet was putting the finishing touches to a bonnet. He had a package in his hand, and as he passed into the little apartment beyond where the great safe was, he said:

"There is ten thousand dollars which I have drawn from the bank to send to my agent in Paris to-morrow. And I am going to leave it here in the safe, so that I can get it early in the morning. Mind you are not tempted to play burglar, Miss Wayne," he added, laughingly.

He went away soon, and Juliet thought no more of the money.

She had several bonnets on hand which were promised for the next forenoon, and she must work far into the night, or not get them done. And it was a part of her creed never to fail in any engagement she made. If she promised anything for a certain time, her customers were sure of finding it ready.

So she decided to stay all night at the store, work until she had got things so that they could be completed on the morrow, and sleep on one of the lounges the remainder of the night. She had often slept there nights, but Mary Giles, her assistant, had stayed too. Juliet looked at her watch-it was nearly eleven, and just then the porter went around closing the shutters and locking up. She told him she would remain, and asked him to leave her the key of the back door.

After he was gone she settled herself to work, feeling a little lonely, and wondering if she should be afraid."

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