FRANCES KANE'S FORTUNE.
BY
L. T. MEADE,
Author of "How it all Came Round," "Water Gipsies," etc.
CHICAGO:
M. A. Donohue & Co.
Contents
| FRANCES KANE'S FORTUNE. |
| MONSIEUR THE VISCOUNT'S FRIEND. |
| THE YEW-LANE GHOSTS. |
FRANCES KANE'S FORTUNE.
CHAPTER I.
THE LETTER.
It was a very sunny June day, and a girl was pacing up and down asheltered path in an old-fashioned garden. She walked slowly along thenarrow graveled walk, now and then glancing at the carefully trimmedflowers of an elaborate ribbon border at her right, and stopping for aninstant to note the promise of fruit on some well-laden peach andpear-trees. The hot sun was pouring down almost vertical rays on heruncovered head, but she was either impervious to its power, or, like asalamander, she rejoiced in its fierce noonday heat.
"We have a good promise of peaches and pears," she said to herself; "Iwill see that they are sold this year. We will just keep a few for myfather to eat, but the rest shall go. It is a pity Watkins spends somuch time over the ribbon border; it does not pay, and it uses up somany of our bedding plants."
She frowned slightly as she said these last words, and put up her handto shade her face from the sun, as though for the first time she noticedits dazzling light and heat.
"Now I will go and look to the cabbages," she said, continuing hermeditations aloud. "And those early pease ought to be fit for pullingnow. Oh! is that you, Watkins? Were you calling me? I wanted to speak toyou about this border. You must not use up so many geraniums andcalceolarias here. I don't mind the foliage plants, but the others costtoo much, and can not be made use of to any profit in a border of thiskind."
"You can't make a ribbon, what's worthy to be called a ribbon, withfoliage plants," gruffly retorted the old gardener. "Master would beglad to see you in the house, Miss Frances, and yer's a letter whatcarrier has just brought."
"Post at this hour?" responded Frances, a little eagerness and interestlighting up her face; "that is unusual, and a letter in the middle ofthe day is quite a treat. Well, Watkins, I will go to my father now, andsee you at six o'clock in the kitchen garden about the cabbages andpeas."
"As you please, Miss Frances; the wegitables won't be much growed sinceyou looked at them yester-night, but I'm your sarvint, miss. Carriercalled at the post-office and brought two letters: one for you, andt'other for master. I'm glad you're pleased to get 'em, Miss Frances."
Watkins's back was a good deal bent; he certainly felt the heat of thesun, and was glad to hobble off into the shade.
"Fuss is no word for her," he said; "though she's a good gel, and meanswell—werry well."
After the old gardener had left her, Frances stood quite still; the sunbeat upon her slight figure, upon her rippling, abundant dark-brownhair, and lighted up a face which was a little hard, a tiny bit soured,and scarcely young enough to belong to so slender and lithe