Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-07-03
AFTER SIX WEEKS.
The First Unpleasanuness In the House.
 hold of MT. and Mrs. Pyke.

The First unpLoaaanCness In the House.
 hold of MT. and Mrs. Pyke. -'
 MT. and Mrs. Bolivar Pyke had been married about six weeks, and were still oppressively happy. Not a ripple of discord had stirred the frog-pond of their domestic harmony, and their life had run smoothly and unobstructedly. If there was any thing that could have made Bolivar happier he didn't know what it was, unless, possibly, it was to hear that his tough, leathery and grasp ing old uncle in California had gone to the good world; while the addition of forty more cupboards and .closets to the house could hardly have added to the felicity of his young wife.
 This may sound like exaggeration, but you have positively no idea how un- reasonably and absurdly happy these two young persons were.
 In was an evening in May-an ordi- nary evening in May, 1s9O-and the rain hadn't stopped. It was falling as it feel in the seventeenth day of the second month of the six hundredth year of the life of one Noah, and in sheer despair the Signal Service man had be- gun to predict wet weather.
 "Buenavista," said Bolivar, looking abstractedly about the room, eff it wouldn't be asking too great favor
 What is it, dearP' asked Mrs. Pyke, tenderly.
 'Please try the other knee awhile. This one is getting tired"
 ''You have never said any thing like that before, Bolivar" she protested, re- proachfully. Perhaps, I'd better go and sit on chair"
 "Now don't get huffy, darling. You ion't look so pretty when you frown."
 II am not drowning, Bolivar"
 "You certainly are, Buenavista."
 '"Then I don't look prettyr' she ex- claimed, bouncing up and seating her self ten feet away. All right, MT. Pyke! You-you-you're getting tired of me. I-I-wish was"
 Now look here, Buenavista, don't be foolish. There's nothing to quarrel about"
 I'm not quarreling, sir! I'm not go- ing to quarrel, either. If there's any thing of that kind done you will be the one who does it, Mir. Pyke."
 ''I am glad to hear it, my dear"
 You needn't call me your dear. am not dear to you any more.''
 II thought you said you were not going to quarrel"
 "I did sir, and am not. In spite of your conduct, Mir. Pyke, am still your loving wife"
 ''Then, dearest"
 No, sir, am not your dearest"
 Well, Buenavista, then-if you pre-. fer tiff you are still my loving wife, won't you please sing something?"
 What for? Are you afraid I'll try to sit on your knee again? You needn't-''
 'No, no, Buenavista. 1 thought it might clear up the atmosphere of this room little. That's all" With the aspect of a martyr going cheerfully to the stake Mrs. Pyke went to the piano and sat down before it.
 What shall l sing?" she asked, meekly.
 'Perhaps-h'm-perhaps it would make things seem more cheerful if you should tackle Home, Sweet Home.'"
 Mrs. Pyke fixed her eyes on a spot near the ceiling where the wallpaper | didn't exactly match and walled out the touching melody:
 "''Mi6 ple-a-a-SureS and pa-a-alaces tho-o-ugh'-I know well enough, Mir. | yhSs you nave dShSu Uue LO S1nR this to make me appear ridiculous, but am going to do it!-'we may ro-o-o-am, Be it e-e-eve-e-er sol think any man who tries to make his wife the object oi ridicule never, never cared any thing l for her-'hu-u-u-mble there's no-o-c place like'-I have always done every thing could to make home pl-pl-pleas ant, and you-you know it-ho-o-ome | A cha-a-arm from the ski-i-ies seems to seems like the ghastliest mockery in the world, but you would have it-'ha a-llo-o-ow us the-e-ere, Which se-e-eek through the w-o-o-orld is ne'er me-e-et with elsewhe-e-ere. Ho-o-o-ome, ho-ome sw'-I'll sing it through if it k-k-kills me-'swe-e-e-eet, swe-e-e-eet home There's no-o-o place like'-ain't yor ashamed of yourself, Bolivar Pyke, tc sit there pretending you care any thing about our home any more, or me either I-'ho-o-ome, There's no-o-o-oo place like'-B- B. Bolivar, dear, can't! Yes, will! will!-'ho-o-o-omer"
 As her quavering voice sounded tho last word of the song a manly voice joined in with a deep bass, her trem bling little fingers were gathered in |: close grasp, her head sank on Bolivar shoulder, and
 But what business has any outside barbarian to be intruding here? Let u retire.-Chicago Tribune. ,l Living Up to Side whiskers.
 It is a fact that side-whiskered mel are seldom seen in young and bus, | nsf sa