The Madison daily leader. [volume] (Madison, S.D.) 1890-current, 1895-07-05
THE FOURTEENTH.

1t has been said that it is always thu
unexpected that happens, and that to bt
prepared for emergencies one must b.
both philosopher and a fatalist. A:
Professor Smythe, musician, piano tuner
and general utility man-in a musical
way--was going to the Globe theater,
where he was to play a flute obligatc
with the regular orchestra, he would
have been much surprised if any hint OF
a new calamity in his run down for.
tunes could have been then and there
foretold. He certainly thought he had
taxed the ingenuity Of adverse fate tc
its utmost, and he had enough misery
on hand to last a lifetime. But the mis-
fortune awaiting him was of a g~rotesque
turn and quite unlike the others, which
were the commonplace ones Of illness,
poverty and bad luck in everything he
undertook.
AS he walked along in the shrinking,
depressed fashion that had become nat
ural to him through habitude with mis-,
fortune he was aware of the sudden
opening Of a door in a handsome resi-
dence he was passing and a food Of Or
ange light beaming across his path. At
the same time a man in evening dress
ran lightly down the steps, seized him
by the arm and said briskly:
MY dear sir, excuse me, but would
you do me a great favor?"
Professor Smythe forgot to draw into
his shell, SO sudden was this attack. He
stood still, like the wedding guest in
the Ancient Mariner" but finally
stammered his need Of haste and the &C.
casion Of it.
Il will pay you twice as much, and
you will have nothing to do but make
yourself agreeable. 1t will be a great
accommodation, and I shall never for
get it. I can see by your appearance
that you are q gentleman. Consider me
a friend and accept my offer"
But what service is required Of me?"
asked the professor, who had q vague
idea that q grand piano had suddenly
gone wrong.
why, You see, I am giving a dinner
TO some friends. It is all on the table,
and we have just discovered that there
are ID of us. That would meyer do at
all Now if you will dine with us, you
shall be well paid for your services, and
l dare say you will be in time for your
flute solo at the theater, as you can be
excused when you desire. You will
come? Thanks!"
The professor followed his host in a
state Of absolute subsection, as if he
might have been hypnotized, but the
fact was that the poor man had not bro
ken his fast since morning, and the de-
licious aroma Of the dinner coming
through the open door proved irresisti-
BILE. He gave his name in a whisper,
was handed over to a servant, who took
him up stairs into a guest chamber,
helped him remove his shabby overcoat
and whisked off his best suit with q sill
yer handled brush, taking its thread
bare CLINT for dust. 1t was we'll he was
engaged to play; otherwise he would
not have been in evening dress. He was
beginning to enjoy the little comedy in
which he was himself an actor.
There was no introduction. His host
motioned him to a seat between the
maiden lady and a sever matron who
turned her silken back ON him to talk to
her neighbor OF the other side. The pro-
fessor's pride did not once assert itself.
He was masquerading-that was all.
But fate had not done with Professor
Smythe.
The consomme had a dash Of cham
payne in it, and new life was infused
into the veins Of this professional diner
out. The fish and game and pate that
followed were all triumphs of the Gull
nary art, and the hungry man cloyed the
edge Of his appetite, not by the bare
IMAGINATION Of a feast, but by the feast
itself. 1t was no feast Of the Barmecede
either, for the viands were actual, and
the Wine was not q pretense, but q de-
lightful vintage, served in cut glass COB
let's The poor professor felt like saying
to his neighbor, "Pinch me !" for it was
like a dream OF an illusion rather than
a reality.
But the striking Of the clock reminded
him that he had been there an hour, and
as he had broken the spell Of tho un
lucky l3 he ventured to excuse him
self and rose stifiy from his place and
bowed himself out Of the room.
He was followed by a servant who
handed him an envelope with the COM
pliments of the gentleman with whom
he had just dined. Not for worlds would
he have opened it, though it was unseal-
ed, before the man, but he accepted it
graciously and went up stairs to get his
hat and overcoat unattended.
A number Of handsomely appointed
chambers were on the upper hall, and
the professor glanced into, each as he
passed on his way to the particular guest
chamber where he had left his belong.
ings Perhaps he vas a triie overcome
by sherry and other beverages, but he
thought the room had been darkened