The Kootenai herald. [volume] (Kootenai, Idaho) 1891-1904, 1892-09-23

and wrapped in the dark folds of the
waterproof cloak. short, stout gentle
man rose to give her his seat, and with
an inward smile Mrs. Merton recog-
nized her lord and master.
She accepted the civility with a mute
nod--there was something in the com
icality of the situation that impelled her
to keep up the disguise.
We're acting little bit of romance
in real life" said she to herself How
near and yet how fari Husband and
wife-yet for the time being perfect
strangers to each other.
"I'll get out the block this side of
home, and then, if / run all the way,
can perhaps get there before Peveril
does, and thereby escape a lecture a yard
long about the 'propriety of married
ladies being out after dark To hear
the blessed man talk one would suppose
that nothing in the world was improper
for unmarried ladies"
She beckoned to the conductor-the car
stopped.
She sprang out, but to her surprise, not
to say dismay, Peveril Merrion stepped
nimbly out after her.
Don't be in such hurry, ma'am,"
said he, in a low. insinuating voice.
"Allow me to see you safe home. Pretty
girls shouldn't be out alone after dark.
Aha! you think I'm wizard, but such a
little white hand as yours can only cor
respond to pretty face Take my arm,
miss.
/ Il l,.-
! ly, convulsed with inward mirth. He
pressed it after a most friendly fashion.
Don't walk too fast, said he. LET
me carry your bag.
Mrs. Merrion gave it to him. They
were nearing their own door when, to
the surprise of the gentleman, who had
perhaps expected to walk half dozen
blocks or so further, his fair companion
paused on the threshold.
"You-you're not stopping here? he
exclaimed nearly stumbling over the
ferrule of his own umbrella.
Eyes, | am. said the lady, in high
treble voice. quite different from her
usual accents. Il am going to see Mrs.
Merrion and tell her of your un-war-
rantable-conduct."
"Oh, don't do that" cried the husband
in furry. Just think a minute how
foolish it would be- and how very I'M
comfortable"
"But shall!' squeaked the assumed
falsetto. "A man of your age"-Mr.
Merrion twisted himself uneasily about
fought to know enough to let the pretty
girls alone! You need lesson, strand
you shall receive one"
So saying she pulled the bell vigorously
is Mrs. Merrion at homer"
mo, ma'am," said Norah "she AIM
got home from shopping yet"
Mr.. Merrion drew an audible sigh Of
relief.
"No matter, said the relentless little
Nemesis TN come in and wait for her.
She pushed past Mr.. Merrion into til,
reception room, and seated herself de
liberatey under the little chandelier tina
Norah had just lighted, while Mr.. Mer
rion, shifting from one foot to the other
had turned the color of tallow.
Nov, my good girl, how very unrea
sonable all this isl he argued. And
why. Fanny, it's your
For Mrs. Merrion had risen and throw
off the Disgusting folds of the water
proof and the mask like veil and stooC
there with eyes sparkling full of mis-
chief
Eyes, it's l." said she. "And now
my dear. what have you got to say TO
yourself? Because, you knOw"-with
comical imitation of his own deep, so
norous tones-''you never tiirtl Oh, dea
me, nor
If Peveril Merton had been a whippe,
| dog, groveiing on the floor, he could no
have looked, or perhaps felt, meaner.
"My dear" said he. Il didn't-that
/ what | mean to say is-were all hu
f man, you know, my dearr
. Exactly so, said Mrs. Merrion. 1T
what l have remarked myself a score O
times Only it isn't fair to expect me t.
< be a pattern of perfection set up on
t pedestal above the rest of the world
9 when you are so very humans it, nowi
0 Fanny" said Mr. Merrion, Il az
t knowledge myself in the wrong. Don
be merciless, my dear. II am yer
i sorry. ! won't do it again"
"And you pledge yourself to leave o
s finding fault with me for the future?"
s Il will pledge myself to anything, m
t dear"
And then they went to dinner, fc
r which Peveril Merton had very lit
r appetite.
1t The next time Fanny danced wit
d George Harland, Mr.. Merrion made L
d objection. If he had Fanny was pr