The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1894-02-18

| "Dlck, ] We got plan.'
Dot had closed the kitchen door softly
and was looking fondly and compassion
| ately q L her husband.
Il know all about it, poor fellow. No
/ good news. You don't want TO say it.;
and you're Just talking against time.
/ Dick We might as well own up 10 each
. other mightnJ WEI We've-we'ye Just
. got to the very end, Dick"
Il should rather think we had, Dot, -
he admitted soiemnly. looking hard and
digging vigorously at the eye of potato,
TO the end, Dot, with d pulled out of it,
/ besides,"
I'VE sent the dining room carpet out to
be cleaned six weeks ago.
I Right you are. Dot
And the chiffonier to be 'mended, ,
/ five weeks ago DjckNH
Just five weeks, yesterday"
And the parlor table to have the
marble top polished four weeks ago
| tomorrow"
you always were immese on dates and
| figures, Dot"
/ And the mantel clock to be repaired >
! the next week; and your easy-chair and
| bookcase to your new office, last Satur-
day."
! Richard Hardy stabbed a potato des-
! perately and groaned outright.
Poor, poor Dick ~ she continued ten
! derby. I'VE have done these things to-
! gether; not only Just to live through
! these cruel, cruel times, but-and bless
! your noble heart for it, Dick Ito keep
| those poor old childish mothers of ours
| from knowing the real truth. Gracious
me! Those potatoes must go on instantly.
/ I'll slice them fine, Dick, and they'll be
/ done in minute"
Something in Dicks eyes or upon his
! glasses caused him again to employ the
| corner of the kitchen towel vigorously.
The potatoes were soon a-humming
/ Dot filed the teapot with boiling water,
ready for the drawing and the boiling wa
| ter again at the last moment Then the
! old fashioned skillet, not a uew-fangled
! broiler was over the glowing Goals in a
! Jify, with some butter Kissing around III
| its depths. She deXtcously twirled the
! skillet until the rich brown bubbles ed
| died furiously, when the steak was
! dropped within, whirled round and round,
and turned for double soaring before
| the slower and careful frying. Then the
| good little belpmeet resumed:
Tell me, honest now, Dick, have you
| tried every possible means of selling your
! splendid workl Did you see the Miners
! Monthly folKsl"
Sure, Dot. Instead of taking another
story, they begged so exquisitely to be re-
! leased from using two 'Aceepteds,' that l
hadn't the heart to refuse then"
| anu GuG NlGJEODOllIduE -
Treated me ike a prince Editor
wanted me to dine at the club with him.
But the moment l yentured to suggest
MS to him, do you know he grabbed his
watch, reached for his hat and overcoat.
and gasping, Just five minutes TO catch
the ferry, Hardy he fed fed, Dot, en-
treating me to think over great serial ;
to think it over hard-during my next
! summers vacation!"
stRut the plPnthurU TOfcly2U
"Ah, Dot, Editor Burnisher is indeed one
of those who maintain that all space is
| filed with matter His head Law upon
the desk as | entered. He arose and ap-
preached me with, All, Hardy, my dear
boyl So glad to see your He took my
hand in both of his. He led me softly to
| another room. We paused before a ire
mendous safe. AS its huge doors swung
open, he pointed, with averted head, to
! his pigeon-holes and their contents 4
do not know what your feelings may be at
such a spectacle, Mr.. Hardy he MUIR
INJURED, but you may perhaps imagine
mine l hastily withdrew. Even the
eight-carat diamond on his finger seemed
dimmed with tears, as Editor Burnisher
waved me sympathetic adieus. Dot,
what do you think l saw on a little pla-
card hung against the stuffed pigeon
holes of that Plenthury safe2"
MY Dick, how can tell2"
She had put the steak upon hot plat
ter and was now stirring the butter -four
softly in the skillet-bottom for the gravy.
well, Dot, twas just this:
Unused MSS. $5O,0OO"
Dot thoughtfully stirred the golden
brown gravy until it began to thicken
added another lump of butter and pushed
it back to let it simmer little Then,
taking the plates from the warming oven
to the dining room, she gave the table a
few finishing touches; asked Dick to
mash the potatoes, which he did with
hearty vim, not forgetting splash OF
milk, sprinkle of salt and bit of but
ter; and, after putting on the drawing OF
tea, asked, this time trihe timidly:
dick, what about the Sunday papers?'
Great Scott' exclaimed Dick hotly
furiously beating the potatoes almost to a
lather. NOW, now, Dot don't! Why
little woman, don't you know that the
Sunday papers are exclusively for ads,
the -Four Hundred reprints from the com,
les, and female lingerie reporters2 Whewi
Dish these potatoes; do, Dot!"
She deXterously removed the creamy
stun 70 a tureen, whisked the kettle I'M
der the water faucet, and innocently and
half sadly asked
mo chance with the syndicates?"
Dick was now smoothing his hair at the
kitchen glass and adjusting his cuffs and
collar. He looked at Dot long and thought
fully. Then he FURNISHED his glasses
briskly with his handkerchief set then
! squarely on his nose, took another gooC
look at the little woman, marched
! straight to her, took her pink ears firmly
in his fingers, gave her forehead a pity
ing sort of kiss, and then remarked more
. disconsolately than he had ever Spoken
to her in all his life
, Dot, wife! Now don't you know, Dot
that the syndicates handle only razor
back humor and Gallmadge sermons2"
Poor, dear Dicku' said Dot despair.
T ingly, but with loving smile shining
, through her gathering tears. But come
/ supper's ready. You ring the bell, Dick.
I'll be there in a moment
She really waited to dry her eyes and
chase back the olden smiles into theil
place, as Dick, after bit of romp with
Bob and Nellie, tapped the little table
=, bell with rafting staccato, and, as the
' old ladies appeared from the best room, >
as far as possible from each other, state
lily saluted them and escorted them, one
by one, over the intervening feet Of
space TO their respective seats al the
, table.
Glad to see you in such spirits, moth
ers, began Dick heartily after grace had
been said
My spirits aren't worth minding, Rich
ard, said Mrs Hardy, the elder, with a
groan.
I've got none 10 brag on, thank YEP
J 70. pipa6 Mrc Ia - l.