Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1879-09-24

"My DEAR" said Mrs. S., "what makes
you so melancholy"
"Eh?" said Mr.. Simpkins, starting
from his reverie. ooh. nothing.
Deused tired. Hard day at the Office
"Poor old hubby" said Mrs. S., sooth-
ingly. "I-I-got that bonnet to-day,
DEAR"
Mr.. Simpkins grunted.
would you like to see it?" queried
his wife, doubtfully.
At any other time Mr.. Simpkins
might have said "Yes;' but now, with
the recollection of those cherry ribbons
uppermost in his mind, the inspection
of any other bonnet would have been
torture
"No," he replied, shortly; 81 don't
know anything about such gewgaws.
If it suits you, it will me-"
Mrs. Simpkins smiled.
"Pu go to Grace Church next Sun
day." she thought, "and have my re-
venge."
Mr.. Simpkins that night dreamed
that he was in heaven, and was being
driven about the streets of the New
Jerusalem in Thirty-third street stage,
by swift-winged angel robed in cher
ry-colored silk.
He went to his place of business next
day, still in thoughtful and reflective
mood. Why the recollection of that
| beatifc vision should remain with him
SO persistently he did not know. It
gazed up at him from the pages of his
ledger, and foated before him in the
smoke of his cigar. When at last he
left the Office and started home again, it
accompanied him up Broadway. He
had turned into Union Square, and
nearly reached University Place, when
he came suddenly to halt. BY all the
gods of Greece, it was she!
She stood with her back toward him,
waiting for car. Those Hebe-like
shoulders, the cherry ribbons. He
could not be mistaken. Mr.. Simpkins
stood still a dozen yards behind. The
lady picked her way daintily toward it
over the muddy crossing. Again the
snowy ruttes and the enhancing, vo-
luptuous, infatuating ankle! Mr.. Simp-
kins followed, and took his stand on
the front platform, crowded as it was.
He could not see into the car, but, by
nearly dislocating his neck, and several
times losing his footing, he managed to
observe every passenger as he or she
got on or off. On went the car past
Seventeenth street. It seemed to Mr..
Simpkins that the lady would never get
out again, and, as he went, Mr.. Simp-
kins busted himself with a thousand
vain conjectures. Who was she? Was
she married or single? Of what ma
tionality? Was she beautiful? He
had not seen her face, but the possessor
of such figure, he argued, could not
be otherwise than beautiful of feature.
Young? Yes, she was surely young
and patrician, too. No plebeian ever
owned an instep like that. In fact, SO
sure of all these things did Mr.. Simp-
kins feel that he almost dreaded the
moment when the lady should descend,
and, perhaps, in meeting him face to
face, destroy at single blow his proud
est Illusions. He had not long to wait,
for at Thirty fourth street the conduc-
tors bell rang, and the lady got out
She crossed the street, and, with Mr..
Simpkins following in transport of
admiration, entered an Office on the
corner.
Now, as Mr.. Simpkins' luck would
have it, this Office was the real-estate
office of Mr.. John Bigler, and Mr.. John
Bigler was the brother-in-law of Mr..
Simpkins. Mr.. Simpkins halted sud-
denly in confusion, and walked round
himself" SO to speak. The lady passed
in without noticing him, and disap
peared from view. Mr.. Simpkins stood
for moment irresolute in the doorway,
and then, with determination, dashed
upstairs.
The offices of Mr.. Bigler were stu
sisted Of two rooms an outer one about
ten feet square called by Mr.. Bigler his
"reception-room,' and larger and
more luxurious one within reserved for
the purpose of confidential interviews.
AS Mr.. Simpkins expected, the lady
was in the private room, out the door
stood slightly ajar, and, as she sat with
| her back toward it, he could see her
earnestly conversing with the villainous
Bigler. At that moment Mr.. Simpkins
caught BigIer's eye. and beckoned fran
tically to him to come out. Bigler,
thinking from Simpkins' excited man
ner that the house might be on fire,
came quickly into the outer room. AS
he did so he swung the door wide
open, revealing to MIR. Simpkins' en-
tranced gaze the lovely object of his
pursuit, her head resting upon her
small and acknowledgement hand, her
lace shawl dropping gracefully from her
shoulders, and that pretty foot peeping
saucily from beneath the folds of her
dress. Her head was turned away, and
her eyes evidently bent upon the floor.
The sight was entirely too much for
Mr.. Simpkins, and he seized Mr.. Big
ler's arm with such energy that the lat
ter fairly howled.
"What the devils the matter?" ex-
claimed Bigler.
"Who is she?" cried Simpkins, point
ing toward the private room. Intro
duce me. In Heavens name, who
is it?"
who's who?" asked the bewildered
| Bipler. STRUGGLING to free himself from