The herald., 1894-04-15
IT WAS A DREAM.

Mrs. Warrenton sat in her little blue
and white parlor in a beruffled white
muslin, her blond hair in a classic knot,
her blue eyes filed with well bred ennui
and her feet in coquettish blue and
white canvas 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 saintp' she broke out, with
sudden petulance.
eff you were anything but the great
dull boy that you are, " continued his
hostess aggrievedly, "you would see
that 1 am dying of stagnation. You're
the only interesting person know, and
now you come hero 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 honep"
1.-THE weather is too warm for much
mental energy, but l think if you famed
mo for five minutes / might evolve a
thought. I'd 60 home only it's shut up
for tho summer, and I'm sick of the
club, and you are tho only available
amusement.
Mrs. Warrenton arose majestically,
possessed herself Of a large palm leaf fan
and began tanning tho thinker.
You're sure yon'ro thinking? Don't
dare to go to sleep!" she exclaimed as
the brows unlnittod into peaceful Sc
renity Times upl''
Mr.. .Vinton unciosod his eyes and sat
bolt upright
"You look" said he irrelovantly,
like Dresden china shepherdcss in all
those white ruff1es and pink ribbon. Put
on the big hat with pink roses, and you
can play Phyllis. ?"
SIS that all you've thought out?''
No - -aantins4ct- Dob radlantly.
"I've thought further You play Phyl-
lis, and I'll be Strophon, and We'll 60
to Arcadia.
Suppose, Bob, you should tip me
over'-
"Strephon, renember, Strephon''
prompted Bob as be padded out slowly
into the stream in the red glow of the
sunset skies.
"Well, Strephon, thenr" and Mrs
Warrenton dabbled her finger tips in
the water and forgot to repeat her ques-
tion. 81 didn't know the Charles was
so beautiful. What's all that green bank
and bridges and shady nooIery 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-
tion.
"You look ever so handsome in your
shirt sleeves l always like men better
in their shirt sleeves-they' SO much
more picturesque. Why don't you paint
your next hero in shirt sleeves, pad
ding canoe with pretty girl-that's 8
/, of course, " looking sentiment at him.
Look sentiment at me, Phyllis, and
will, " said Bob lightly.
''All right, Strephon, but what shall
we talk about?"
''Do you remember, Phyllis, the aft
ernoon l 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 girl of 10 then-what
pretty girl, thought put my arm
around you and helped you home and
kissed you sweetheart kiss in the base
ment vestibule. That was good many
years ago, Phyllis I"
"You were nice boy, Shephon, but
you were always bold, +" said Mrs. War
renton. And then she added, with
touch of coquetry, "Would you believe
it, I've the valentine you sent me-the
one in box with pink roses and Cupid?''
81 used to think you'd d settle down to
marrying me when you tired Of flirting
with Jack WarTenton. That's why I
didn't shoot him before he ever married
you, Nell'-
''Phyllis, Phyllis" " she interrupted,
smiling. But he did not smile.
''Phyllis, mean--but my going off
to Rome that summer was fit of pique.
You said you didn't care, and when 1
came back you were married, and I'm
sure I've acted like an angel ever since.
/ wonder if you ever did care?''
81 wonderr" 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 steadygoing Benedict and never
any more spend afternoons in Arcadia
with Phyllis.
''Faotp' returned Bob little bitter
ly, and as a streak Of dying sunlight
struck across his face through the
branches ho seized the paddle viciously
and padded into little inlet overhung
with shade.
Mrs. Warrenton leaned over and laid
one hand timidly on the brown muscu-
lar one still grasping the paddle
People are never cross in Arcadia"
she murmured-
II wish you'd be in earnest" he
broke out passionately, land not treat