Nell, of Shorne Mills

Nell, of Shorne Mills, by Charles
Garvice

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Title: Nell, of Shorne Mills or, One Heart's Burden
Author: Charles Garvice

Release Date: October 11, 2007 [eBook #22961]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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NELL, OF SHORNE MILLS
Or, One Heart's Burden
by CHARLES GARVICE
Author of "Better Than Life," "A Life's Mistake," "Once in a Life,"
"'Twas Love's Fault," etc.

A. L. Burt Company Publishers :: :: :: New York 1898

NELL, OF SHORNE MILLS
CHAPTER I.
"Dick, how many are twenty-seven and eight?"
The girl looked up, with narrow eyes and puckered brow, from the
butcher's book, which she was laboriously "checking," at the boy who
leaned back on the window seat picking out a tune on a banjo.
"Thirty-nine," he replied lazily but promptly, without ceasing to peck,
peck at the strings.
She nodded her thanks, and traveled slowly up the column, counting
with the end of her pencil and jotting down the result with a perplexed
face.
They were brother and sister, Nell and Dick Lorton, and they made an
extremely pretty picture in the sunny room. The boy was fair with the
fairness of the pure Saxon; the girl was dark--dark hair with the sheen
of silk in it, dark, straight brows that looked all the darker for the clear
gray of the eyes which shone like stars beneath them. But the eyes were
almost violet at this moment with the intensity of her mental effort, and
presently, as she raised them, they flashed with a mixture of irritation

and sweet indignation.
"Dick, if you don't put that banjo down I'll come over and make you.
It's bad enough at most times; but the 'Old Folks at Home' on one string,
while I'm trying to check this wretched book, is intolerable, and not to
be endured. Put it down, Dick, or I'll come over and smash both of
you!"
He struck a chord, an exasperating chord, and then resumed the more
exasperating peck, peck.
"'Twas ever thus," he said, addressing the ceiling with sad reproach.
"Women are born ungrateful, and continue so. Here am I, wasting this
delightful afternoon in attempting to soothe a sister's savage breast by
sweet strains of heavenly music, and she----"
With a laugh, she sprang from her seat and went for him. There was a
short and fierce struggle, during which the banjo was whirled hither
and thither; then he got her down on the floor, sat upon her, and
deliberately resumed pecking out the "Old Folks at Home."
"Let me get up, Dick! Let me get up this instant!" she cried indignantly
and breathlessly. "The man's waiting for the book. Dick, do you hear?
I'll pinch you--I'll crumple your collar! I'll burn that beast of a banjo
directly you've gone out. Dick, I'm sure you're hurting me seriously.
Di-ck! I've got a pain! Oh, you wait until you've gone out! I'll light the
fire with that thing! Get up!"
Without a change of countenance, as if he were deaf to her entreaties
and threats, he tuned up the banjo, and played a breakdown.
"Comfortable, Nell? That's right. Always strive for contentment,
whatever your lot may be. At present your lot is to provide me with a
nice, springy seat, and it will so continue to be until you promise--on
your honor, mind--that you will not lay a destructive hand on this
sweetest of instruments."
"Oh, let me get up, Dick!"

"Until I receive that promise, and an abject apology, it is a case of j'y
suis, j'y reste, my child," he responded blandly.
She panted and struggled for a moment or two, then she gasped:
"I--I promise!"
"On your word of honor?"
"Yes, yes! Dick, you are breaking my ribs or something."
"Corset, perhaps," he suggested. "And the apology? A verbal one will
suffice on this occasion, accompanied by the sum of one shilling for the
purchase of cigarettes."
"I shan't! You never said a word about a shilling!"
"I did not--I hadn't time; but I shall now have time to make it two."
The door opened, and a servant with a moon-shaped face and
prominent eyes looked in. She did not seem at all surprised at the state
of affairs--did not even smile.
"The butcher's man says shall he wait any longer, miss?"
"Yes, tell him to wait,