New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1891-04-22
WHICH TOOK HIM?

H
Mrs. Vincent, widowed and wealthy,
looked naughty and fierce.
It was 3 O'Clock in the afternoon,
and the sun took the liberty to in
trude through the window into the
library, furnished in purple leather
and walled with books, which had
had pretty complete rest for the ten
years that the late Vincent had been
in his grave.
Mrs. Vincent sat and glared.
Her dark, prominent and wrath
fully astonished eyes had for their
target young man, in whose bearing
appeared a singular mixture OF de-
ference and defiance.
He on his part saw before him a
lady under SO, but not far. The lips
were yet tull and red, her figure,
though ample, still retained agreeable
lines. If her hair was white, the
black eyebrows held their color and
| emphasized the air of command to
which the Roman contour of the
nose most contributed. I:
"Well, I never!' she cried, slapping
down a pack of cards on the table.
The man smiled slightly.
The young man, with curly brown
hair, cheerful blue eyes, up-twisted
mustache, and a firm china fresh,
alert, compact, healthy young man,
whose loose, elegant costume proved
that he understood how to achieve
that careless grace which so charms
women. An intelligent young man,
with cynical confidence in his smile.
He stood unfrightened, just the sort
OF young man who should not be
what he was secretary to a mature
California street widow of spotless
reputation and large means
"Well, I never!'' the lady exclaimed.
The young man spoke resolutely:
"No Mrs. Vincent, ! shall play piquet
with you no more. Piquet is a good
enough game, and am not averse to
it, in reason. But object to piquet
in the forenoon, in the afternoon, and
in the evening" six days in the week,
[ confess I'm tired of piquet"
| I'm that case, and because of your
insolence," said Mrs. Vincent with
cold elaboration, 'you may consider
yourself discharged, Mr.. Mindless
every well, ma am" And he turn
ed toward the door.
"Mr. Middles!''
He halted, his hand on the portiere,
and faced about.
She placed her glasses on her modi-
fed Roman nose. viewed him steadily,
and, toying with the cards, inquired:
"Would an increase in salary be any
inducement, sir?''
! enc"
1'Then go!''
He bowed and disappeared.
Her hand sought the bell. Jeames,
inlivery, both imported from London,
responded.
HIGGINS, Mr.. Middles is in the hall.
Say to him that wish to see him"
The secretary returned, overcoat on
arm, hat in hand"
Mrs. Vincent threw herself back in
her chair, and clasping her plump,
white hands above her head, said, in
the conciliatory tone of the negotia-
tor:
] "Mr. Middles, let us not act. hastily.
acknowledge tha5I cannot well spare
| you. Next to myself you are the best
piquet player this side Of New York. =
II know it, Mrs Vincent. Indeed,
| play better than YOU
"You do not!"
His frozen calmness cowed her.
There was feeling in her words that
followed:
you loved my husband, did you
not?'' 4,
II did. He was father to me, /
owe my education to him, and and
"All that you are. =
which is not much, Mrs. Vincent
He was your benefactor, and you
loved him, yet you refuse so little
thing as to play piquet with your ben
efactor.''
IT do. Gratitude has it's limits. ~
Evidently You willnot humor an
old woman's weakness and tighten the
burden of her loneliness?''
q will not. Besides, it is not a
weakness, but a disease, this insanity
for piquet. Moreover, you are not /
old. On the contrary Mrs. Vincent,
you are still q charming woman, and
h by withdrawing from the world and
giving yourself over to cards, YOU
wrong yourself Worse than that,
you fail in your duty to your daugh-
ter, who has the life Of q nun. & s's 3.
hat is nothing to You, sirl'
Es lrue. 8