The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1894-04-13
1T WAS A DREAM.

Mrs. Warrenton sat in her little blue
and white parlor in a beruff1ed white
muslin, her blond hair in a classic knot,
her blue eyes filled with well bred ennui
and her feet in coquettish blue and
white anvas slippers idly prodding the
lazy old Maltese tabby lying just out Of
range of the rocker.
Mrs. Warrenton sighed deeply and
looked at her guest sideways.
Good gracious, Bob, you are enough
to provoke a saintt' she broke out, with
sudden petulance.
eff you were anything but the great
dull boy that you are, continued his
hostess a~ggrievedly, you would sec
that | am dying of stagnation. You're
the only interesting person know, and
now you come here and talk about the
hot weather and look out Of the window
and don't offer an original suggestion or
a new idea when I'm fairly verging on
intellectual starvation. Do something,
say something or go home!''
1.-THE weather is too warm for much
mental energy, but I think if you famed
me for five minutes 1 might evolve q
thought. I'd 60 home only it's shut up
for the summer, and I'm sick of the
club, and you are the only available
amusement.
Mrs. Warrenton ros majestically,
possessed herself Of a large palm leaf fan
and began tanning the thinker.
You're sure you're thinking? Don't
dare to 60 to sleepl" she exclaimed as
the brows unlimited into peaceful Sc
renity. "Time's up!'
Mr.. Vinton Enclosed his eyes and sat
bolt upright.
"You look" said he irrelevantly,
like a Dresden china shepherdess in all
those white ruff1es and pink ribbon Put
on the big hat with pink roses, and you
can play Phyllis"
us that all you've thought out?"
NO." continued Bob ~radiantly.
tive thought further. You play Phyl-
lis, and I'll be Strephon, and We'll so
to Arcadia"
4 r i
Suppose, Bob, you should tip me
over
"Strephon, remember, Strephonl"
prompted Bob as he padded out slowly
into the stream in the red glow Of the
sunset skies.
"Well, Strephon, theni'' and. Mrs.
Warrenton dabbled her finger tips in
the water and forgot to repeat her ques-
ton. Il didn't know the Charles was
so beautiful. What's all that green bank
and bridges and shady nookery up
there?"
Arcadia" said Bob sententiously.
Mrs Warrenton leaned back, nestled
her pretty head against the shawls and
looked picturesque.
Mr.. Vinton padded industriously and
gazed straight ahead toward his destina-
ton.
"You look ever so handsome in your
shirt sleeves. I always like men better
in their shirt sleeves-they' re SO much
more picturesque. Why don't you paint
your next hero in shirt sleeves, pad
ding a n with a pretty girl-that's
I, of course, +" looking sentiment at him
Look sentiment at me, Phyllis, and
I will" said Bob lightly.
"All right, Strephon, but what shall
we talk about?"
DO you remember, Phyllis, the aft
ernoon | taught you to skate out on the
marshes? And going home in the early
dark winter afternoon You slipped on
the ice and hurt your ankle and cried
you were only a girl Of 10 then-what
apretty girl, though!-and | put my arm
around you and helped you home and
kissed youa sweetheart kiss in the base
ment yestibule. That was a good many
years ago, Phyllis"
"You were a nice boy, Strephon, but
you were always bold" said Mrs. War
Tenton. And then she added, with a
touch of coquetry, would you believe
it, I've the valentine you sent me-the
one in a box with pink roses and Cupid?"
"I used to think you'd settle down to
marrying me when you tired Of flirting
with Jack Warrenton. That's why |
didn't shoot him before he ever married
you, Nell"-
phyllis, Phyllis" she interrupted,
smiling. But he did not smile.
phyllis, I mean-but my going off
to Rome that summer was a fit of pique.
You said you didn't care, and when I
came back you were married, and I'm
sure I've acted like an angel ever since.
I wonder if you ever did care?"
Iwonderr' murmured Mrs. Warren
ton dreamily. And now, she contin-
ued, you're going to marry that nice
little girl of yours down at Newport and
be a steadyg,ing Benedict and never
any MOI spend afternoons in Arcadia
with Phyllis"
"Factf' returned Bob a little bitter
~, and as a streak Of dying sunlight
struck across lis face through the