The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1896-04-29

Wu III Ine buDb6qu6ut
~ fIssasnss Sist5is1;ioo Of their 4l
contents to unwilling listeners. Ordi-
narily, the only result is to render
conversation impossible, but that
evening, in Mrs. Arkwright's snug
gerry, she annoyed me into argument.
She had been reading some idiotic
book about the Indian Mutiny, and
began to fabricate generalities about
men as the result. Generalities only
hurt their perpetrator but l knew
Mildred's generalities were not gen.
eral. Little Dicky Whitbread had
been chatting Harold Pilkington, who
had lowered about Mildred for the
last season; and her remarks about
strong men and drawing-room pup
pets obviously applied to them. Mr..
Pilkington is a large, dark man, with
small, dark mind-the kind of man
who only smiles to show his teeth ;
and Dicky-well, Dicky is what you
would expect in mar whom men and
many women call Dicky.
Nicholson" said Mildred, senten-
tiously, in the course of our argu-
ment, "was real man. He was tall,
silent man, who in q great crisis rose
to the occasion"
"That was comfort" "yawned Lena
Dawson. "He might have improved
it,"
"He was probably" said, without
the least notion who the man named
Nicholson was, "a person whom men
consider stupid and his wife brute. u
"And there was Lord Lawrence"
went on Mildred, with contemptuous
sniff; "they we're both heroes. "
''It's much easier to be hero than
q decent husband" said Mrs. Frobish-
er, who is so attached to her own hus-
band that she is compelled to conceal
it with cynicism.
'Thank you, Mrs. Frobisher," 1
said, "that's exactly what mean. l
believe real good sorts are real good
always; and the little things mean
most because it's SO hard to make
them melodramatic."
"At Lucknow" began Mildred.
"Bother Lucknow" ] interjected
rather rudely; 81 never was in an In.
dian mutiny; but if 1 we're, I'd rather
be there with man who's been nice
when he's been wet through.
'Let's play at it." said Lena Daw-
sou, waking up. Lena makes life a
kind of round game. 1--WE might
have hero prize. ! should like to
know whether there's real hero in
the house"
Lena eventually arranged the game.
The next night there were to be pistol
shots emanating from a fictious burg
lar, and the hero prize was to be given
to the man who behaved best
"I wonder what the men will do, +"
said Lena.
"Let me see. Old Major Turner
will certainly Goddess -his-soul. And
your husband will probably at once
save you, Mrs. Frobieher. And what
do you think Mr.. Arkwright will do,
Mrs. Arkwright?"
sit would be a great opportunity
for his fire grenades. l should think
he'll invent q new burglar trap that
will make the house uninhabitable, f"
suggested Mrs ArkYright, mali
ciously. Her husbands inventions
are trial to Mrs. Arkwright, and he
had recently almost succeeded in per-
manently extinguishing two of the
Arkwrights with patent grenade.
"And Mr.. Pilkington?" went on
Lena.
There is a gallery in the affairs of
men," said.
"We shall see," said Mildred.
Hell take good care of that, if he
does anything" answered.
81 know" said Lena, SIT will make
it better fun if we draw for the men
and make n sweepstakes of it"
Lena always regulates the rules of
her games, and we acluiesced from
force of habit.
"I've got Mr.. ArIwright, " she an
nounced, as the result of the draw.
81 hope he'll be heroic and not cleo
tric, OF anything of that kind. Mrs
Miller, you and Mrs. Foulkes have ex-
changed husbands. You've got Major
Turner, Mrs. Arkwright. And Pm
afraid, Mrs. Frobisher, you'll have to
hope for heroism in your husband.
Mildred, DIcky's fallen to you'll fear
he's not big, silent man. And you,
Kittie," she said to me. twill be glad
that you've drawn Mr.. Pilkington.
believe Lena cooked that draw,
but none of us protested, except Mrs.
Frobisher.
The affair came Off the next night.
Mrs. Arkwright went down and gol
her husbands revolver out of the gun
room. Lena fired two shots, and
Mildred and l were deputed to alarm
the smoking-room.
"rhere's a burglar upstairs" l ex,
claimed, breathlessly, 'in Miss Daw
sons room. He's tried to shoot Mis-
| Dawson
Good bless my soull" said Major
Turner,