The Progress. (Shreveport, La.) 1892-1900, 1892-09-03


illusion. Even the excitement of "spit-
ing" the Woods and fuckers until they
were green with envy had lost some of
its charm.
She said she was going out and might
not be back for some time. She went
to her room, and put on the bonnet with
the red flowers, her best mantle and
kid gloves. She looked in the glass and
remarked to herself that the red flowers
made her face look more "jaundicy'
than ever The black, baggy spaces
under her eyes were very noticeable.
Her bad nights were telling tales. "It's
got to be done," she said, through her
cinched teeth, and then her face grew
rigid and gray. If she was going to
lose her sleep and go off in her looks like
that what was the use of living?
She went down the back stairs to
AIMS kitchen with the crumpled invita-
ton in her hand and carefully deposited
it on big bed of Goals in the stove. Ann
sat with her back turned, a pan Of
apples in her lap she was pairing for pies.
II may pack up and go home by the
afternoon train, Ann" she said abruptly,
but don't mention it to her quite yet,
for may conclude to stay"
Ann turned her whole person slowly
around toward Sister Martha, her neck
joint being somewhat stiff.
II thought Miss Warren had asked
you to tea for Sattday, and that's this
evenin."
80 she did, Ann, but 1 may have to
send a regret. I'm beginning to get kind
of Uneasy about things at home on the
farm"
Ann gave an incredulous grunt. She
was constitutionally incapable Of be-
lieving all that Mrs. Martha Whitcumb
said. The appearance of the red artif-
Gals and the kid gloves so early in the
morning seemed rather suspicious. Mrs.
Whitcumb went out the back way aware
that Ann was watching her from the
window. She made the circuit of
large square and then darted down
Spring street until she came to Captain
Bligh's door, where she stopped, painting,
and furtively looked up and down with
a nervous CULVER in her legs she had
never experienced until within a few
months past. when broken nights had
begun to be the torment of her life.
Now she glanced up at Captain Bligh's
house as she stood there hesitating and
afraid 1t was long, low, unadorned
house, dingy white in color, much
streaked by weathering, with a high
pitched, shingled roof of old style, door
in the middle and two windows on each
side. The front yard was bare of flow
ers, though in the time of Mary Bligh it
had blazed with beauty.
She looked up at the windows that
seemed to gaze out of forlorn, woman
less eyes. The yellow curtains hung
limp and stringy, and one rebellious
shade had come down bodily and ex-
posed the interior nakedness. The shut
tiers were thick with dust and the panes
darkened with fly specks. She knocked
discreetly, for the bell was broken, and
to the first summons there came no re-
spouse. She knocked again, more en-
phatically, and footsteps began to draw
near, as if from an immense distance,
echoing along uncarpeted floors and
empty passages. 1t was Captain Bigh
in person who flung the door open wide
with jerk and stood there on the
threshold in his shirt sleeves, tall,
dark bearded man, with tanned face
and hands and singularly bright eyes.
He was little taken aback at seeing a
woman on his threshold, woman, too,
so handsomely dressed, for he was &C
customed to tramps and beggars, but
not to visitors of this finished descrip-
ton. The morning sun, too, was in his
eyes and made him blink.
Whats wanted" he asked in the tone
of command natural to a man who for
years has walked the quarter deck with
undisputed sway.
why, don't you know me Cap,n
Bligh." He scowled blackly as he
stopped little to peer under the veil
that covered the lady's face. "Is it the
woman who applied for housekeeper's
place"
LA. Cap'n Bligh, as if l would ask
such thing, a person of my means. l
am Martha Whitcumb, Martha An
drews that was"
The cloud darkened on the captains