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TVMr STACEY AFFAIR
I' By W. P. Quayle.
ri I remember well the day when Mr.
4ames came home and told his moth
er that he was engagedtp he married.
I was -butler then at the Stacey place.
They were not what you would call
well-born; myself I'd call it rich-born.
They had'piles of money, and besides
Siyself there were a first and second
"It Is Not One of the Sanger; Girls."
man, to say nothing of the maids and
Mrs. Simmons, the housekeeper.
James Staccy had been his moth
"er!s idoL He had inherilted all her
pride, and he had her 'obstinacy too
and more. So when I, heard of it I
knew there would be. a battle royal
between them. You see, I knew the
yqung woman. Polly Ryland was one
of the smartest girls in old Stacey's
perfumery department. You. know,
fie died before thevdepartment store
was as large as it is now,-but it went
on just the same and prospered,
though young Mr. Stacey seldoni
went near it until he accidentally met
She was the prettiest . thing a
country girl, small, vivid, as you
might call it, with deep gray eyes and
a mass of red hair. Pretty red, sir,
not carroty-like. That hair goes with
attemper; they say, but sometimes
they're wrong, I guess.
James Stacey had never been in
love before. He was a quiet, studious
chap, a good deal of a book-worm,
and a good deal of a snob. I over
hearer him telling his mother about
"Well, my dear James," she said in
her -stately way, "if your heart has
spoken to you I shall not interfere,
provided the young lady is worthy of
you. And I must say it will take a
good deal of character, not to speak
of world emoluments" that was the
word she" used "to be worthy of you.
Can I guess, James? It is not one of
the Sanger girls?"
"No, mother," said Mr. James, very
"Then one of those charming
daughters of Mrs. Lucas? No? Well,
James, I will cease guessing. Who 'is
"Her name is Miss Mary Rylands,"
said. Mr. James. "She works "
"In the perfumery department of
our store." -
Mrs. Stacey burst out laughing.
"You are very amusing, my dear
boy," she said.
"Amusing or not, mother, I am go
ing to marry her," said James Stacey,
and then the battle was on. But that
was all I heard that day, because I
dared not wait any longer.
"He'll marry her," said Mrs. Sim
mons when I told her that evening.
"And a good, thing too, It'll be the
making of him. He isn't a man yet,
he.'s a ninny."
"Seems to me she's too good for
Mr. James," said Louise, the first