The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1893-07-29
The shrill whistle of the postman in

The shrill whistle of the postman in
terrupted my reveries. I was not in
terested in his coming, as we were not
overburdened with mail matter. There
was only one letter for Ted. How very
beautifully it was written! "Mr. Edward
Boggs." What character in that e."
what grace in the downward stroke OF
the M" and yet it was a woman's
handwriting.
"How stranger 1 exclaimed, turning
it over and over as if l would read its
contents through the envelope. Ted
has no female relatives; from whom
then can it be? OF course" l reasoned,
placing it npon the little sideboard,
''he will tell me all about it when he
ZONES home"
Through the livelong day found my
self thinking of the letter. Before my
eyes would appear that ~delicately
penned address: "Mr. Edward Boggs."
What a long day, to be n and how
gladly I listened to Ted's footsteps in
the hallway. Placing the letter on his
plate, I secreted myself behind the door
in just such a position that I could note
every changing expression of his face,
the light falling upon it.
Rita! Rita!" he called, not finding
me in my accustomed place.
Receiving no response, he seated him
self in his easy chair and began to read
the evening paper, when his eyes rested
upon the letter. He tore it hastily open,
while his face beamed with pleasure as
he perused it's contents. When finished,
glancing searchingly around, he tore
the missive to atoms and flung it away.
I stepped from my hiding place to meet
my husbands look of displeasure as he
said:
II do wish, Rita, you would not be SO
childish as to indulge in a game of hide
and seek! Did you hear me call you?"
he added.
We ate u meal in silence. One lit
hitherto been a cloudless sky.
Il am going out on business" said
my husband, kissing me rather coldly,
I thought. What business, 1 reasoned,
could call him away from home? The
letter lay at my feet in fragments.
Would I place them together and ascer-
tain its contents? No; my honor for
babe me to do that. One little scrap
arrested my attention. 1t was the sig
nature, and 1t read: Elsie Grey"
Who was the woman who dared to
write to my husband-my Ted? Per-
haps some designing woman was
tempting him from his wife and home.
He could have married better perhaps
later on in life. Without a wife he
might be better able to rise" in the
world; and l thought and argued with
myself, poor, foolish little woman that
/ was, that / was but a mill stone
dragging him down.
The days and weeks heightened.
Another letter came from Elsie Grey.
I asked for no explanation; l received
none; but the gulf wa growing wider
and wider. l never went to meet Ted
in the hallway as in former days, and
once, when he bent to kiss me 1 turned
my face away.
made a confidante of my neighbor in
the fat below, a noisy, talkative WON
an, who came well-nigh destroying my
domestic happiness for life.
Mark you," she said. holding up a
warning finger, that letter has come
for no good. Take my advice, and if
he don't stop his capers pack up and go
home. Yes, leave him." she cried, with
animation. you might as we'll now
as later"
Home! I looked at her in surprise as
L answered, sadly:
81 have none."
poor child"" she said, pityingly. "If
you only had a brother to give him a
good horse whipping"
The idea of anyone thrashing my
handsome, manly Ted appeared SO
touching that burst into tears, where
upon my listener proclaimed me at once
to be lust the style of woman to be
imposed upon" in fact a little simple.
ton. She even suggested that in the
absence of home and brother there was
nothing left but a desperate Irritation
to bring him to terms.
Looking back I had one thing tc
thank my not over-generous relative
for; that she had brought me up in the
fear of God, and the evil counsel of my
neighbor failed to lure me from the
path of duty.
The day before Christmas; the ground
covered with a deep coat of Far
up in my little fat l could hear the
faint jingling of the sleighbells in the
street below. The few little sparrows
that ventured up SO high stood picking
the crumbs from the window ledge
What comfort 1 found in these little
brown birds. I told them all my trials
They proved better confdants than my
garrulous neighbor below. They
seemed to listen with little heads