Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-11-15
THE BROKERS WIFE.
She Does a Little Detective W orl,
 on Her Own Account.

| keepers of the little town of Islip knew | when 1t was five o'clock by the passage | through the one business street of a hand | some victoria drawn by we'll -groomed horses, with a correct coachman on the box Other equlpages went by at different hours on different days; were a little late or a lit | tie early for the various trains; but this particular victoria was punctual as a lover throughout the season. The wife of a wealthy | New Y ork broker who rode within was not l the cause of thls punctualty any more than l her little son who habitually rode with her. i Indeed, the coachman, who was, thought of | them as two nervous, impatient children. 1 and, proud of being as exactly on time as the train, never encouraged his horses at l their entreaty.
 Little Sydney. however, did not waste breath on him; he found his mother bet ter subject, and on these drives never ceased to torment her to reply to him. One day in their journey from the villa to the station he reiterated the following:
 Are you going to New York tomorrow? Say, mamma, are you going to morrows 1 Mamma, mamma, Say!''
 At first, his mother, who was lost in rev. erie, did not hear him. Then she answered at random: ''No, no-I don't know. Don't say word to papa. It's surprise.'
 With caress she repeated her recom- mendation. The child looked at her and was silent, made serious by some tone in | her voice.
 Next moment she had forgotten that he had spoken, and was dreaming again. Eff teen days before they had come down from the city to spend the summer on the place where she was born; and the old farm, un- chan ged except that modern villa had been erected on the runs of the farm house, had renewed her childhood. It was delightful to revisit, as wife and mother, the haunts familiar to her as a girl. She often ex- pressed to her husband her wonder that they had not come before. It was charm ing, too, to lead Sydney about everywhere ito the poultry-yard, to the stables to the datry-and say, ''when I was little'' or ''when was your age" etc.
 Yes, 1t was charming-for week. But how quickly faded the first sweet impres- sion! Then came the sadness of being alone all day-like a kind of widow. She did not know the new people who affected Islip, and, besides, she was too much ab- sorbed in her son and husband to care to make new acquaintances. Then she had acknowledged her loneliness the step was easy to the question: 'Is he lonely alsos" What was he doing all days In the winter he was never so busy but that ne could spare her an hour or so in the middle of the day. How did he fill that unOccupicd hour in the summer. Just to answer that question to her own satisfaction, sle decided to go one ay-to-morroW-to surprise him in New York.
 The victoria stopped by the station. The horses threw back their heads and pointed their ears at the escaping s!eam and the train whistle. Little Sydney on the step shouted to his father. who was the first of the travellers to descend. Papa was tall man with fine, smiling face, framed in blonde hair and beard. He got up quickly, took his wife's hand, and, bestowing Syd- ney between his knees, told the coachmau to drive home.
 Then came the questions: '.What did you do this morning? Where did you lunch! Af- forwards, where did you go?' He recounted every thing, item by item, all the details of his day, with perfect good-humor, but look ing at the dear questioner with a smile, as if he divined, under the interrogatories, the latent jealousy that she would not express.
 He took her hand and pressed it tenderly Tt is good to return home to be with you again. The time seems very long when I don't see you all day"
 His wife looked at him anxiously. ''Are you sure that you miss me, Sydneya' she } said.
 That evening, after dinner, the husband, as was his custom, sat outside in the garden, and little Sydney hung about his papa, preferring that to play. They talked lOScluSI llhC I"O tNO pUOu COIL panions, who had many condolences for each other, sometimes interrupted by great shouts of laughter. When mamma was within hearing they were silent. At last Sydney was carried off to bed, and then husband and wife walked along the sward among the fower-beds, towards the wide gate. That was their usual hour for ''real good" talks. This evening, for some reason, both were silent for a time; and then she lhapon in tc int i,, D,,+ no longer "What have you done to-Gays" but "W hat will you do to-morrow!" This time she was not mistaken i'll thinking that he replied with hesitation. There was in his words an unwonted embarrassment
 Oh, these presentments! She had one to-day; and now her fine suspicious culmi- nate and her decision is taken. She will go to New York tomorrow!
 , Now came his turn. ''And what are your ) plans for to-morroW?"
 She started as ii she feared he could read her soul, and she could not reply with } out blushng lightly:
 '1 have none. Tomorrow will be like to- day-like the past fortnight.'I
 In the morning when the young ) broker was dressed and ready to depart, he approached on tiptoe and breathed an adieu in the ear of his sleeping wife. She murmured in response, almost as if in her sleep:
 Are you going now-so early!"
 II must go," he answered.; II have an engagement at ten ocloclA-an important business engagement. Goodbye, my dear. D
 As he stepped vigorously along the sta ton, his face showed mono of the regret at desertlng his family that he had declared he felt the evening before. On the contrary, he was smiling, and now and then broke into little conquering laugh, or said, half aloud: ''An important business engagement very, very important"
 In the car he finds himself alone, as none d of his business friends take this early train T Throwing away the morning paper he gives himself up to his thoughts, which continue Maurice F. Carmody