The Dalles daily chronicle. [volume] (The Dalles, Or.) 1890-1948, 1891-05-07
WHICH TOOK HIM?


1t was o'clock in the afternoon, and
the sun took the liberty to. intrude
through the window into the library,
furnished in purple leather and walled
with books, which had had "A pretty com
plete rest for the ten years that the late
Vincent had been in his grave.
Mrs. Vincent sat and glared.
Her dark, prominent and wrathfully
astonished eyes had for their target
young man, in whose bearing appeared
singular mixture of Difference and de-
fiance.
He, ON his part, saw before him a lady
under fifty, but not far. The lips were
yet full and red, and 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 con-
tour of the nose most contributed.
"Well, L never!'' she cried, slapping
down pack of cards on the table.
The man smiled slightly.
A young man, with curly brown hair,
cheerful blue eyes. uptwisted 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, Il neverr' the Lady exclaimed.
The young man spoke resolutely:
mo, Mrs. Vincent; 1 shall play piquet
=
enough game, and am not averse to it,
In reason; bnt l object to piquet in the
forenoon, in the afternoon and in the
evening, six days in the week. confess
I'm tired of piquet.
"In that case, and because of your in
Bolence," said Mrs. Vincent, with cold
deliberation, ''you may consider yourself
discharged, Mr.. Middles."
''Very well, ma'am." And he turned
toward the door.
"Mr. Middlesr.
He halted, his. hand on the portiere,
and faced about. .--.-- r-~ : = fe
She placed her glasses on her modified
Roman nose, viewed him steadily and,
toying with the cards, inquired:
"Would an increase of salary be any
inducement, sirT'
"No."
''Then gor'
He bowed and disappeared.
Her hand sought the bell. Jeames, in
livery, both imported from London, re-
sponded.
''Hoggins, Mr.. Middles is in the hall
, Say to him thatI wish to see him."
The secretary returned. overcoat on
arm, hat in hand.
Mrs. Vincent threw herself back in her
chair and, claspipg her plump, white
hands above her head, said in the con-
ciliatory tone of the negotiator:
''Mr. Middles, let us not act hastily
I acknowledge that l cannot well spare
yon. Next to myself you are the best
piquet player this side of New York"
81 know it, Mrs. Vincent. Indeed l
play better than you"
'tYou do notr'
81 do"
His frozen calmness cowed her,.
There was feeling in her words that
followed:
"You loved my husband. did Won
not?'
81 did. He was father to me. owe
my education to him, and-and"-
'tAll that you are"
(which is not much, Mrs. Vincent
"He was your benefactor and you
loved him, yet you refuse SO little a
thing as to play piquet with your bene-
factors widow
81 do. Gratitude has its limits"
Evidently. You will not humor an
old woman's weakness and tighten the
burden of her loneliness?'
81 will not Besides it is not weak
ness, but a disease, this insanity for
piquet. Moreover, you are not old. On
the contrary, Mrs. Vincent, you are still
charming woman, and by withdraw
ing yourself from the world and giving
yourself over to cards you wrong your
self. Worse than that, you fail in your
duty to your daughter, who has the life
of a num-
THAT is nothing to you, sirI'
"True."
Again he moved toward the door.
"Will nothing" asked the lady in
alarm, induce you to sit down to game
with me-just one?"
Nothing that You would give, Mrs
Vincent" ~4st-
"Poohi You know very well that I'll
give anything you ask, 1 can't do with
out you.a What is it you wantF'
yourself"
"Eh2 You mean -3, ~
That neither as secretary. protege,
nor friend shall 1 play piquet, with you
again. As your husband will"
t'God bless my souli"
To no woman unburied can an offer
be either long surprising or disagree
able. iItwas with warmed cheeks and
softened eyes that the widow said:
tDos understand that-that you
you love me, Ernst?7 keesse
Mr.. Middles bowed. .<but averted his
glance. sr
She sighed and murmured: