The Roanoke times. (Roanoke, Va.) 1897-1977, 1897-06-24
OFF All 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 n ridiculous
fad about gas fittings. He believed them
to be in chronic state of leakiness. He
told his long suffering wife almost
daily that moro 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 OH no
account allow any one else to do it, as
"gas is such tickle thing'-his little
wife was on her knees in the bedroom,
not, as might be supposed, saying her
prayers-though she made tho same
kneellng serve both purposes-but tim
idly peering under the lowered terra
Gotta valances for the burglar that never
came.
Sometimes it would happen that the
gas popped cut just as she was in 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 OH the
dressing table, ere proceeding with her
search and her devotions. AT such times,
when Maurice assembled from the under
ground regions where tho gas meter
melted out its dole to tho 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 might
some night be sacrificed for lack of n
light?'' she would exclaim, with as
much dramatic fervor as if she had
been before row of footlights and a
crowded pit instead of blue tinted,
corrugated candle and mildly scornful
husband.
When Maurice wished to be wither-
ing, he was always studiously allitera-
tive i'll his choice of words. He never
failed to pooh pooh the burglar notion
He said itwas "the merest moonshine,"
and that there were "crowds of costlier
cribs to crack than Vernal Choice, YOU
bet
Mrs. Green, as n rule, deigned no
answer. She hated slang and wondered
how man of Maurice's sense-except
upon the meter question-could stoop
to its USE She generally refruined from
saying so, however, like the sensible
little woman she was, and, resignedly
filling the baby's feeding bottle and
tucklng the little cherub, with sundry
croonings, i'll its bedside cot, retired for
the night, leaving Maurice to blow out
the corrugated candle.
1t was winter and it was midnight.
Maurice had cold. and so had the ba-
by. The ''little cherub,'' in fact, had Il
touch of bronchitis," and his hard
breathing as he slumbered restlessly i'll
his little cot plainly testified the fact
through the darkness.
II wonder" murmured Mrs Green,
as she lay listening to the troubled
breathing of the child on the one hand
and the influenza snore of her husband
Oh the Other-"I wonder if the little
pet is warm enough. I'm anxious about
his little chest, bless him. I'd take him
into my bed, only Maurice doesn't like
it, The little fellow kicks the clothes
off so. What could do to prevent him
from taking cold afresh? Happy
thought! There's that little wooden
wrap i'll the spare bedroom. It's either
i'll the middle drawer of the dressing
table or i'll the wardrobe, know. Poor
Maurice! He would willingly go and
find it for me, but wouldn't disturb
him tonight for the world. I'm glad l
succeeded ill pcrsuading him to sleep i'll
his dressing jacket. Those nasty infu-
enZa colds need care, and I'm so apt to
uncover him i'll reaching over to baby.
I'll slip into the next room myself"
Thus soliloquizing she quietly got of
bed-for where baby came i'll fear flew
out-pushed the turned back bed clothes
gently against her husbands back, so
that he would not miss her, and proceed
ed to feel for the matches. The little
receptacle Mt the bed head was empty.
Not a match. ''Oh, dear, dear, why
will Maurice insist upon turning the
gas off at the meter, especially when
baby is unwell:" she sighed as she
slipped into her dressing gown, which
fortunately was hanging on the brass
knob at the foot of the bed.
Slippers she could not find. Nil des-
pcrandum She knew to foot where
the wrap was, or at least she thought
she did, and she would know it the
moment she laid finger on it. The lit