Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-05-27

Philip turned round. His imagination made
him fancy that Mary was tittering, overcome
by the antics played by his mole.
Philip took wine, and as he felt the glow of
the sherry pass down his throat, he wondered
whether Mary felt glow of sympathy down
her throat, occasioned by seeing him drink the
sherry.
Her presence was unbearable, and yet-if he
dismissed her-how was he to be served?
'.Pll ask someone to dine with me tomorrow
night" he said TO himself. Then he turned to
Mary as she removed his plate, and said, "How
is baby this afternoon? Does he fret much at
his mothers being awayf'
II beg your pardon, sir, don't know. I'll
run and ask nurse"
OF course she knew, but she made this an
excuse for getting out of the dining-room into
the freer air of the nursery
Never, in all his life, had Philip found him
self more impatient of the silence imposed on
him, more desirous to hear his own voice. In
his lodgings he had eaten his meals alone-a
chop and some potatoes-and he had had a
book or paper at his side while eating; the
landlady or the slavic had not stood in the
room watching him, observing the parting in
his hair behind his head, making fun Of his
mole, impatient to dust his collar, In his
lodgings he had drunk beer or London Cooper
would have drunk even water if he might only
have been alone.
mo, thank you. no dessertr' He jumped up
-he was eager to leave the room.
"Please, sir, any cheeseP
mo, thank you, no cheese"
He ran away from his half-fnished dinner to
his own study, where he could be alone, away
from the insufferable Mary.
Then he rang the bell.
You may bring me up the claret and port
here-and the preserved ginger" he ordered.
Then thought he had acted absurdly, and
would have countermanded the order had he
not been ashamed to confess how unhinged he
was.
He sat in his own room, with his claret glass
in his hand, dreaming. looking into the fire.
''Where was Salome now? Was she think
ing of home-of her rbaby-of-of-hiln?"
Then he wondered whether she were cold,
and hungry, and tired. She had not slept the
previous night She had been busy packing, or
going in and out of baby's room, to kiss the
little sleeping face, or to pray by the crib, or
let the dew of her tears fall over it.
Philip stood up. He left his glass unfinished,
and went upstairs to the nursery. He found
the door ajar, and the room empty. The nurse
had gone down for talk in the kitchen-no
doubt about Master. and Mary was telling her
collar.
He entered the nursery and stood by the crib,
and looked at the sleeping child.
Little Philip was now quite well again, and
was very sound asleep. He was undoubtedly a
Pennycomequick. He had dark hair, and long
dark eyelashes But surely-surely there was
some trace of his mother in the tiny face. 1t
could not be that he did not bear in him some
thing of her. Philip looked intently at the
child and tried to find out in him some feature
of his wife.
There, on this side of the crib. had salomes
hands rested that night when little Philip was
ill. Philip, the father, knew the exact spot
where her hands had rested and where her fore
head had leaned, with the red gold hair falling
down over the side upon the bedding. Where
the white left hand had clutched, with the gold
ring sparkling on it, there now Philip placed
his han3, and there streamed up to him from the
crib of his child magnetic influence that put
him en- rapport with his absent wife, brought to
him a soothing sense of oneness with her who
was far away, and filled his heart with regret
and yearning.
The child began to cry.
Then Philip rang the bell, and when the nurse
arrived, red and blowing
''How is it that you are not at your post?" he
asked.
please, sir, I only just ran down to warm up
DIR. Ridges Food for the baby" was the an
swer.
Philip descended to the study, and resumed
his claret glass. At the same time he began
to consider his own conduct toward Salome,
and, now only, saw that it did not bear the
same complexion as he had hitherto attributed
to it. In vain did he call up before his mind