Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1897-07-08
OFF AT THE METER.


ness of Mr.. and Mrs. Maurice Green
lately made almost complete by the ar
rival Of the veriest cherub that ever
came down from heaven-there were
but two drawbacks. The first was of
Maurice's making. He had ridiculous
fad about gas fittings. He believed them
to be in chronic state Of leakiness He
told his long suffering wife almost
daily that more gas escaped through
unsupported cracks and defective joints
than served to illuminate the cozy
rooms of Vernal Choice.
Mrs. Maurice Green's bugbear was
burglars. Nothing could shake her con-
viction that when burglar took his
clark suburban way" his objective
would be, by decree Of fate, Vernal
Choice. Thus it came to pass that
nightly, while Maurice was turning off
the gas at the meter-he would on no
account allow any one else to do it, as
"gas is such tickle thing little
wife was on her knees in the bedroom,
not as might be supposed, saying her
prayers-though she made the same
kneeling serve both purposes-but tim
idly peering under the Powered terra
Gotta valances for the burglar that never
came.
Sometimes it would happen that the
gas popped out just as she was III the
act of raising the curtain that might
reveal the tragedy Of her life, and then,
with a little scream, she would seek
the matches-she never could put her
hand readily OH the matches-and light
the delicately shaded candle on the
dressing table, ere proceeding with her
search and her devotions. At such times,
when Maurice assembled from the under
ground regions where the gas meter
melted out its dole to the company OF
his wife above stairs, she would rate
him right soundly for SO gentle little
body for what she styled his "absurd
fad'' about turning the gas off.
"What do few extra feet of gas sig
Nifty, when three precious lives nigh,
some night be sacrificed for lack Of 8
light?" she would exclaim, with as
much dramatic fervor as if she had
been before row Of footlights and
crowded pit instead of blue tinted,
corrugated candle and a mildly scornful
| husband.
When Maurice wished to be wither
ing, he was always studiously allitera.
tive in his choice Of words. He never
failed to pooh pooh the burglar notion.
He said it was "the merest moonshine, >
and that there were Crowds of costliel
cribs to crack than Vernal Choice, yor
bet"
Mrs. Green, as rule, deigned NJ
answer. She hated slang and wondered
how man Of Maurice's sense-excep
upon the meter question-could stool
to its use. She generally refrained from
saying SO, however, like the sensible
little woman she was, and, resignedly
filling the baby's feeding bottle ant
tucking the little cherub, with sundr.
croonings, in its bedside cot, retired fol
the night, leaving Maurice to blow ou
the corrugated candle.
It was winter and it was midnight
Maurice had cold, and SO had the ba
by. The "little cherub," in fact, had
'touch of bronchitis" and his hare
breathing as he slumbered restlessly il
his little cot plainly testified the fac
through the darkness
IT wonder, /" murmured Mrs. Green
as she lay listening to the troubled
breathing Of the child on the one hant
and the influenza snore Of herhusban'
on the other-"I wonder if the littl
pet is warm enough. I'm anxious abou
his little chest, bless him. I'd take hin
into my bed, only Maurice doesn't lik
it. The little fellow kicks the clothe
off SO. What could do to prevent hin
from taking cold afresh? Happ.
thought! There's that little woolel
wrap in the spare bedroom. It's eithe
in the middle drawer Of the dressing
table or in the wardrobe, know. Poo
Maurice! He would willingly 60 am
find it for me, but wouldn't distur
him tonight for the world. I'm glad
succeeded in persuading him to sleep il
his dressing jacket Those nasty influ
enza colds need care, and I'm go apt t
uncover him in reaching over to baby
I'll slip into the next room myself"
Thus soliloquizing she quietly got Q
bed--for where baby came in fear fey
out-pushed the turned back bed clothe
gently against her husbands back, 9
that he would not miss her, aud proceed
ed to feel for the matches The littl
receptacle at the bed head was empty
4 Not match. "Oh, dear, dear, VIII
will Maurice insist upon turning th
gas off at the meter, especially whe
baby is unwell?" she sighed as sh
slipped into her dressing gown, whio
fortunately was hanging on the bras
knob at the foot Of the bed.
l, Slippers she could not find. Nil dee
peranduml She knew to foot wher
the wrap was, or at least she though
she did, and she would know it tn
moment she laid finger on it. The lii
tie cherub in the cot coughed in chok
ing manner. Light or no light, the wra
must be found, and without further dc
!, lay the little mother walked gingerl
into the next room.
No one could fail to find the ward
robe, as it was the first article Of furni
ture encountered on entering the room
When its door stood open, it was posi-
BILE to view oneself from the bedroom