New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1896-08-02

down; there's nobody passin'.'
Mr.. Tucker did not look exactly fixed as he
limped Grossly downstairs in heeess slippers
with his suspenders dangling and his old shirt
bullying out at the back in an extraordinary
manner. II didn't know you was so put to 1t
t you couldn't hand up dipper Of water" he
observed with sarcasm.
We'll, amt goin' to have you tell me I'm
late this tme." said his wife
Soon he called again: "Where'd you put those
socks of mine Almiry?'
Just where l told you-rghthand corner or
your drawer"
II can't find EN-"
"Well. you look again an guess you WILL
Strange sounds arose overhead: showing
sounds; squeaking, rafting sounds; tramping
back and forth. over Mrs. fuckers face stole
an irrepresslble smile Of pure enjoyment
Great doin's goin' on" she said, deftly turning
over the dshpan and hanging the towels up to
dry. Il declare. I'm about through"
She entered her room. The bureau drawer
that held Mr. fuckers linen had been taken out
bodily and dumped upon the bed; 1t looked as
II a cyclone had whirled through It. Hanging
the edge were various nondescript bundles
partly unroled some even strewed the foor
Mrs Tucker paid outward attention. though
her orderly mind dismayed. She disported
herself leisurely before the glass smoothing her
hair and pinning her collar with the utmost
nicely. Behind her stood her husband lodging
his head from side to side.
What Is the natter?
II can't see anything while you take up the
whole lookin glass.
You can see over my head Just as well as can
over yours Want anything?'
He would not answer until she looked up
Then he pointed to his tie.
Gas soon as I've put on my bonnet Why
what makes you fidget SO? Get your coat an
vest on If you want to be doing something.
Five minutes afterward Mrs. Tucker might
have been seen in the ample sitting-room door
with her striped Sunday shawl on her arm. &C.
casionally CHANGING over her shoulder. for her
husband was behind time. AS he hnally APP
peared warm and tired, she remarked, pleas
antly: you see | was all ready
Mr.. Tucker apparently did not hear. He got
stifly into the buggy. 1t was not until the end
of the day that his wife discovered that he had
worn socks that were not mates.
Now 1t happened that their nearest neighbor
besought Mrs Tucker to pay her visit that
week. You're almost stranger. Almiry.' said
she: cant you and Mr. Tucker come to tea
towards the end of the week.?
I'D be pleased" answered Mrs. Tucker. Mr..
fuckers busiern common just now with the
hayin but perhaps he could come along late
in the afternoon and go home with me-.
Mr.. Tucker however. would make no promise.
''I'll see about It," was what he said. The day
was so warm that Mrs. Tucker went to the
storeroom to get out certain black and white
sprigged lawn. which she kept for the hottest
weather. and which had not been worn that sea-
son. The store closet was built around the CHM
ney 1t was too small for a room. too large for
a closet and 1t had little bit of a window near
the floor that would not open Mrs. Tucker was
all ready to so, when she saw that she had left
the door unfastened, and she stepped back and
turned the button.
1t proved to be an enjoyable afternoon though
Mr.. Tucker did not come to tea. Il don't sup
pose 1t was SO he could get away" Mrs. Tucker
explained apolOgctcally; the hays ripenin so
fast" She disappointed herself for she en-
joyed her husbands society at such tmes-he
made good appearance in company ON
this account she returned early in the evening,
holding her muslin skirts well up to keep them
out of the dust Contrary 10 their usual twi-
light habit the side door closed. Everything
looked just she had left it. She hooked back
the door and opened a window to let in the fresh
air. Ii went up with a bang
Rat-a-tat; rat-a-tat-tat,
What was that? Mrs. fuckers pulses jumped
wildly both her hands sprang up as she lis
tened
There it was again! A loud thump-thump going
Mercy. What can it be? Where's Isrel that
he don't hear that noise? 1t can't" Awful
fears chased her as. dragging her everyday hat
by one string she rushed upstairs where the
sounds. louder ard louder guided her straight
to the storeroom door.
There mistakng the animating motive
rage venting itself in regular pounding
tbwacks like batterng ram inside that closet;
the door trembled under them. Mrs. Fucker
turned the button and the door shot forward
with the force If a catapult. a tall, bury form,
partly white and partly black in the dusk,
stepped forth.
"Isr'e Putnam Tucker how you scaret me.
How come you there?"
Did Israel Putnam Tucker deign to reply? Not
he He stalked majosticaly across the hall with
a measured tread that lost none of its impress
hei i'm
wife followed at his heels, all agtated and re-
morse.
You don't say you was In that closet all the
aftnoon? Why the awful. Why didn't you
speak? Why didn't you say something? | was
in hurry. an | suppose you didn't have time.
An the boy was way over in the lot. want he2
OF course. he couldn't hear you I'm dreadful
sorry Isr'el | wouldn't done II for anything II
I'd known. Such a hot day. too, I'm afraid you'll
be sick. Your face is just purple
This was going too far. Mr.. Tucker lifted
his free hand Uhe other held his vest and wilted
COLLAR in a single determined gesture as one
who should say: "Avaunt." He might have been
posed just 50 on pedestal for statue OF his
namesakc Then looking neither to right nor left,
he marched downstairs.
CONSERVATION made Mrs. fuckers round eyes
rounder and puckered all her face; something
else divided her swift mind, something that
wanted to be amusement and had no kindred
soul t. share it with.
oh, my, he's just full Of mad: she solilo-
ouized Don't blame him Sod I'd be If I'd been
shut up four or five hours in that little closet;
only Ia been thinkn some how comical twas,
and kind O maxim story of it to tell after
ward an he don't get any comfort that way
Mr. Tucker came in from the yard after
awhile and sat down in the door with his news
paper. His wife futtered about anxiously. Let
me make you glass of lemonade, lsrel she
suggested
The top Of Mr. fuckers head above the news
paper waved decidedly from side to side.
Il won't ask him; I'll go make IT," thought his
better half: "hc hasn't had any supper. either"
The pungent freshness of lemon peel and the
tinkle of the spoon in the pitcher We're pleasant
things that warm night and Mr. fuckers
senses seemed to greet their with approval; but
as his wife set the glass beside him he looked
askance at it and spoke for the first time: Il
don't want it.
"Do drink it, Isr'el. it'll cool you off,
"I-dOn t-want-t.'