The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1895-04-22

opposite and open easement, where the
tailor's son sat coughing. large-eyed
and hectic. made his heart faint with
longing at the thought of sunlight upon
the cliffs and sea-waves. meadows,
woods and hill-slopes he would see no
more.
The streets began TO echo with leis-
urely steps of tired people strolling in
the coolness, voices fioated. softened
Yet distinct on the pleasant still air
with the indescribable tonal quality so
distinctive of summer time The tailor's
son heard snatches Of talk rising thus
pleasantly TO the window with the
scent of his fathers pipe and the sound
of his fathers slow steps on the pave
ment, where he paced. with rolled-up
shirtsleeveS and unbuttoned waistcoat
stopping now and again to exchange
word with a passer-by.
over the way large private house
with two doors was set among the
shops. One door stood wide and offered
through a back doorway a glimpse Of
foliage and garden turf, translucent in
the late sunshine, suggestive of indefi-
mite stretches Of wood and meadow and
messy stream. 1t was the doctors
house. BY and by perhaps the doctor
would step over the way, run up the
creaking stair, feel the lads pulse, chat
for ten minutes and run back again.
He often did this; it was always a
pleasant possibility to look forward to.
The boy was developing a tranquil
philosophy; the pleasantest things in
life, he thought, are the things that
nd do Thav
are also the saddest; but he was not
old enough to know that.
The Doctors old red brick house was
a source of perennial pleasure. a tran
gull stage on which dramas We're
shown but seldom played through; an
act here, a scene there, suggested end
less com binations to be worked out by
idle fancy; the framework Of the daily
domestic comedy was always visible
The next scene would be lighting of
windows and descent of blinds. The
table in the room to the right of the
door was laid for supper; he caught
CLEANS Of a white cloth, glitter of sill
yer and glass, and color Of red-shaded
candles ready to be lighter. The doc
tors young wife stood by the table
smiling family and putting the last
touches to a cool and pleasant arrange
ment of tenderest green's of crisp let
tuce. transparent ivory of cucumber,
shell white of young onion, and deep
red Of radish. Such a salad, in the
pretty porcelain bowl that had been q
wedding present, such a salad, she
thought, as would surprise the doctor
and fill him with delight and make him
repent his saying that no female hand
could rightly mix a salad. And it did
surprise him; because she had used, in
generous plentitude, excellent clear cas-
tor OIL r!.istakng II for olive. The doc
tors wife had yet to learn what trag-
edy may mar the honeyed peace Of
early cOnjugal felicity; so she went on
family smiling, adjusting her slices Of
ard-boiled egg to perfect symmetry on
the top and daintily crossed the spoon
and fork above. all unconscious of the
doom that lurked within the bowl.
A cheerful pop sounded through the
open window across the street, the kind
of pop that inspires delicious thirst
on hot day. conjuring up visions Of
cool and ruddy claret surf-like cream
ing of bright champagne, or clear am
Der and ivory froth of the honest native
drink for which the banks of Trent are
justly renowned The amiable gurgle
that followed as the Doctors wife
poured the claret into the tall slim cup
was inaudible save to herself. She
liked the maids to be out Of an evening,