New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1891-11-15

| ous!. Inc teapot was set on the same pait vi
| the stove that Rowcna remembered There was
crack in the edge of the stove there.
Mrs. futile brought her -four and sour milk
and began to mix on the table. Marmaduke had
gone to sleep behind the stove.
| y hope Mr.. Bradford is WE'LL" said the elder
woman, with grave earnestness. She glanced
| furtvely al Rowena, and she saw the flush that
came and went quickly on her face. She had felt
II strange that Rowcna lad not mentioned her
husband, even though no inquiries had been made
about him.
In Mrs. Tuttle's eyes, in spite Of all her reason
| ing with herself, and in spite of her husbands
liking for him, Keats Bradford had always been IA
| sort of interloper. She had wanted her daughter
Rowena TO like Philip Barrett who had liked her
since the two were children. She had never, in
the depths of her heart, become rcconcilcd TO
Philips dismissal. In vain she told herself that
she hardly knew Bradford. She had never seen
| him since those few days when he had ridden into
| the country on horseback by the side of Mr. Lit
| ties cart when Rowcna had come home in that
| cart.
The marriage had taken place in Paris more
| than two years before. Bradford had written to
Mrs. futile several times. She liked his letters
| she couldn't help it, She acknowledged to herself
that they had the right feel to them" Mr..
| futile always said Bradford was good fellow;
| he knew he was.
Il can't help wishing she'd liked Philip" his
wife would respond with that peculiar shake of
the head that irritating to her husband
Even good women who love their husbands some
| times have at least one infuriating way with
them.
" He was very WE'LL" answered Rowena.
II spose he'll be out to-day or to-morrer, won't
hep"
AS she put the question Mrs Tuttle secretly
hoped that she might have few days alone with
her daughter before the husband came.
Hardly" said Rowena. He is in Paris"
| Mrs futile stopped stirring the batter she
making. This was far worse than il he had been
| in Boston and coming on the next train. 1t was
really terrible that Mr. Bradford should remain in
| Paris and should allow his wife to the At
| lantic without him. She hoped this fact wouldn't
| get OUT in the neighborhood She felt it
would be impossible to explain such circumstance
SO that it would not be commented upon adversely
| And Philip Barrett would never have done such q
| thing.
"You didn't come alone!" cried Mrs. Tutte.
"Oh no. had my maitland Marmaduke. I
didn't really need more than Marmaduke."
Rowena spoke with lightness that seemed sus-
picous 10 her listener.
"Your maid!' repeated Mrs. Tuttle, choosing
to go off upon side issue Il didn't know you
The speaker Involuntary looked under the
table by which she stood, if it were possible
that Rowenas maid might be secreted there.
Il wrote You had one. | wrote You how
absurd it was that should have one. I've never
got over the righteousness of one of the Iuttle
girls having maid"
She laughed Her mother tried to join in the
| laugh but was not very successful in the effort.
What in the world did you have for her to
dO?' she asked.
ton my
| giving Marmaduke his bath when l used to be in
my atelier so much
lutte dreading but longing to know what such
a thing could be. And how did you get into
1T was my room where painted; my work
room, you know. That's what they call it over
| there"
Both women knew they were evading the sub
| ect in the minds of both the subject OF the
| husband Of Rowena, and why he was in Paris and
| she here
Yes: awfully outlandish' returned Rowena
" But they pt know. any better. Let us
forgive them. You ought to see my maid. she
is ever SO much Erander than l am. | think
she'd feel insulted if she should ever he mistaken
for me, But she has a good heart She refused
used TO take turns at it. She said she was not
| an attendant upon kennels But after a little
| she became attached to the terrier that she
do it out of love, not out Of any mercenary emo
ton Marnadule. will get round anybody, just
give him little time.
| Rowena spoke almost too gayly.
She rose from her seat and went to the back
| entry where some long gingham aprons used to
| hang She fonnd one there now and she returned
| with it on The griddles were heating on the
She found the "griddle fat in the same tin
dish it used to be in. and the same old fork with
a rag twisted round it was imbedded in the con-
| gealed fat.
She began to fry the cakes while her mother
" | presume likely. her mother said that the
| boys'1 be home from school by the time the
And when will Sarah Kimball be home ?"
| asked Rowcna' She could not but feel that
mSe sS s ss5oo T the S a
before last. She hasn't written Inc for good
| while" t, ,..,.
| over seventeen She thinks of learning the
drcssmaker's trade. She went off to see about 1t
| to-day" ~
| Rowena turned her heated face from the stove
| to ask this question. "
| Il can't exactly say he is, yet" answered her
mother.
But Rowcna hardly heard her The window
| was in front of her she stood. and she looked
| into the yard where horse and open buggy had
| just appeared The sound of the frying cakes
| had prevented the two from hearing the noise
| made by the hoofs and wheels.
4 very young girl was giving her hand TO
| man as she jumped 10 the ground.
| Rowcna turned back to her work. She raised
| cake from the grdde and with deXtcrols
twist Sne Threw IL Dack dgdlll Ol llS
| Two people entered at the kitchen door Or rather
they paused in the doorway, staring with all their
| power at the person frying gridde-cakes
Rowena put down the broad knife she had been
| using She advanced with both hands out
stretched. Sarah Kimbal felt herself taken in
| very warm fried-cakey embrace and kissed two or
| three times She returned the kisses with vigor
! Its Roweny, mother she cried. as If her
| mother had not yet discovered the fact
| Rowena advanced nearer the door. Her eyes
were smiling with yet more cordiality than her
| lips. r,;,
| 81 Philip it is good to see You again, she said
| hard hold of the one given him.