The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1897-06-04
A JEALOUS WIFE.

"Out every nlght untll y, ana you De-
lieve him when he says 1t Is business!"
said Mrs. Merklo, pursuing up her lips
"Ah, we'll, you are an innocent lamb,
Doris Moore"
"But, Aunt Sarah, why shouldn't I be-
leve what my husband says when he al
ways tells the TRUTH" said young Mrs.
Moore Indignantly.
because he is man," said Mrs Mer-
Tile, nodding her head. "1'ye had three
husbands-Thompso was the first. He
was good provider, but he provided for
two, and ! got divorce and alimony.
Then l married Maxwell. caught him
kissing hired help and began my investi-
CATION. The same old story. However,
he died, and that ended it. AS for Merklo,
l have my thumb on him, but got it by
searching his pockets. Men are such idiots
they leave their love letters anywhere.
When I'd collected pack, read them
aloud to him one evening. He stays home
now after office hours, unless he goes out
with mo, and he don't write anything but
business letters. He Is old, you know,
and deacon wants to keep up a reputa-
ton for respeotability. But your young
hushand-what would he care If people
talked about himp Oh, there Is woman
ct the bottom of this o'clock business,
I'll warrant you"
"Why, Aunt Sarah, how dare your"
cried Doris, stamping her foot.
"Rummage your husbands coat pock-
cts and you'll find I'm right" said Mrs.
Merkle. "And unless you want divorce,
which l don't advise when man is only
on salary, show him what you find, make
a scene and end it early"
"Why, you talk as If you knew some
thing about Owen, Aunt Sarah" said
Doris.
~ know he's man, " said Mrs. Merkle.
"HulloP' cried voice at the door,
which opened at this moment. Here is
Aunt Sarah, talking against men as usual.
What has poor Merkle done now? I
thought he had sowed his wild oats "
Look out for your own crop, Owen
Moore" replied Mrs, Mcrkle.
II don't set up for saint and never
did" cried Owen. "Give me kiss, Doris.
I'm as hungry as hunter, and l must
eat and run. It's all night again, Doris
Well, so much moro In the savings bank,
and indeed we've no reason to be sorry"
II miss you very much, Oven" sud
Doris, as she brought hot dish from the
oven and set the chairs at the table. "1'm
as lonesome without you as kitten with
out its mother"
II keep thinking of you, too" said
Owen. "Oh, indeed, don't like it bit,
but say dollar put by for a rainy day
may keep us from the hGartache."
He ate his supper in hurry, laughing
and talking tho while; then kissed his
wife, shook hands with her aunt and took
up his hat again Out on the stairs he
paused moment Aunt Sarah's shrill
voice was lifted once more.
Don't see how honest he is, " she was
repeating "All very well, Doris, but look
in his coat pockets all the same-look in
his coat pockets"
"Oid catl She's at it again." said
Owen, who heard; but, like the good ma
tured man that he was, he only laughed
| as he ran down stairs. "Tho devil will fly
away with old Aunt Sarah one of these
days, but she can't make my Dory believe
| any i'll of me, that's one comfort
Meanwhile, Mrs. Morkle had gone home
| to nag her unfortunate spouse, and Doris
sat before her own fire with her feet on the
hearth and thought over all she had heard.
| Aunt Sarah was very unpleasant per-
| son, who always made trouble wherever
| she went, but she had the reputation for
being very sensible, which such people are
| more apt to gain than cheerful, amiuhle
| folk, and what she said she really believed,
| for she had no good thoughts Of man or
woman. But Doris was very much in
| love With Owen, and jealousy is always
| close at hand where love Is strong.
In vain Doris tried to convince herself
| that Owen was too much in love with her
| to think Of any one else The little seed
of suspicion had been planted, and it grew
| like jack beanstalk.
IL was lonely there in the little upper
| fat at night, and Doris had been used to
large family circle before she left her
country home to share Ovens fortunes in
| the city.
After awhile she found herself crying
she hardly knew why-fccling not only
| lonely, but neglected and injured.
"Owen ought not to have left Inc, even
| for business" she said Gle used to come
every night when he was counting, though
, it was an hours journey by rail each
way"
|
| herself If it were possible that Aunt Sarah
could be right. New York was such a
! wicked place. There werc such bold, au-
| dacious women to be met with. Owen
was SO handsome. Oh, could Aunt Sarah
have any grounds for her suspicious!
Owen, waking early one morning,
caught his wife turning his pockets out,
reading the bits of paper she found there.
| A note from his cousin John, who had de-
sired to borrow So; a typewriter circular,
recommending Stump's restaurant let
ter from his mother telling him of the do
ings at home
Nothing but what she had seen before.
And Owen, whose conscience was as clear
as mans could be, was not in tho least
| alarmed
Doris might rcad all the letters he ever
| received, all he ever had received for the
matter Of that. But he did not like to
| think that she would watch and spy upon
| him, that an old woman's prattle could
make her suspicious Of him.
He had heard tho advice that Mrs. Mer-
kle gave his wife as no stood outside the
door of his little dining room, and no WIS
very sorry that his Doris should take it
and search his pockets.
Ho had good miLd to speak out frank
", to tell his wife whnt he had heard and
what he had seen, and to assure her that
his story of night work was true; to take
her with him to the great piano factory
where he was employed and convince her
how his hours were spent. That would be