The Pioche weekly record. [volume] (Pioche, Nev.) 1877-1900, 1881-05-14
QUESTIONS ANSWERED.

"Are you the gentleman who answers
the questions r..4. . tha Brooklyn
Eagle:"
The voice was filled with music, and
the bent and gray philosopher who Off
ciates as encyclopedia for the institution
looked up from the question, "Was the
walking match between the wise men of
the East and the star of Bethlehem
square shake or hippodrome?" his eyes
were blinded A flash Of golden hair! A
bewildering sea of blue eyes! A passion
ate struggle between the red and blue
roses!
81 am the man." he said wondering
what grand lovliness could want of him.
May ASK you-a-question?" in
quired the voice, as the beautiful head
bowed and the long lashes swept the
flowers of her cheeks, and laid as lightly
as dew across the long moist eyelids.
Certainly, anything. Can do some.
thing for your
/" ITS about Frank" she faltered, "I
want to ask you about Frank Oh! why
does he treat me so?" and the sweet face
was turned upward toward the staggered
philosopher, wet with tears and implor-
ing consolation.
Is its it a matter of ice cream or
oysters, or something of that sort?"
:"No, no; oh, mol I have plenty of
those. But why does he let me pine
away?'
Something about theaters? Concert
business? Boquets the matter? Candy?
Bong bong?" asked the philosopher deli
cately, closing his interrogatories with
some respectful French.
Nothing, nothing of that kind"
murmured the red quivering lips. "Why
am l so desolate /" and the sobs raked
the glorious frame
Something about presents? Makes
you walk to the park? Won't hire hack?
Another girl? Won't go to church? Plays
pool for drinks? Something of that sort?'
How strangely you mistake him!
How cruelty you wrong him!" and the
sweet eyes looked tender reproach. "You
don't know Frank or you would not say
so. What I want to ask is-is-Oh!
why am l so wretched?" and the tears
rolled down her face.
Maybe he's growing beard," said
the encyclopedia tenderly "Perhaps
he parts his hair in the middle. Possibly
he belongs to a baseball club, or maybe
he stands in front of the theater on mat
inee afternoons. Perhaps that is it?''
mo he don't! none of them" flashed
the angel. eff he did l wouldn't care.
you shan't abuse him. I came here to
ask why-why-oh! why am I utterly
hopeless?'
Perhaps he gets drunk" suggested
the philosopher, cor his pants may bag
at the knees. Does he brush his plug
hat the wrong way? is his mustache too
long on one side? don't he believe in the
doctrine of atonement?
"Oh! cruel, cruel, cruel!", said the
maid sinking into chair. "You are
unjust to him. You don't know how
grand, how manly he is"
"What is the matter with him them"
jerkea out the philosopher. "How has
he made you miserable? What has he
done? What do you want of me?"
II want to know why-why--he gets
up-between every-act and goes-o out
of the-theater. I know he has got
another girl-and he goes-to see-her. I"
"My dear you are mistaken. have
known Frank for years and he has no
love but you. Let me tell you. Frank
has got the itch, and he goes out to
scratch"
"If l could only believe that" she
mnrmured doubtingly.
"On my honor"
"Then am happy. Ii that is all, I
am content, but I thought some nasty
y