Griggs courier., 1897-07-02
A Midnight Encounter.
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lIERNAL CHOICE was pretty and

AeAhlneSS. he LOlQ MS lOng.SuUerlng
wife almost daily that more gas escaped
through unsupported cracks and defec-
tive 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
dark suburban way" his objective
would be by decree of fate, vernal
Choice. Thus it came to pass, that,
nightly, while Maurice was turning OF
the gas at the meter-he would on no
account allow anyone else to do it, us
"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 the same
kneeling serve both purposes-but tim
idly peering under the Aowered tern
Gotta valances for the burglar that never
came. z
Sometimes it would happen that the
gas popped out just as she was in the
act of raising the curtain that might
reveal the tragedy of her life, and then,
with little scream. she would seek the
matches-she never could put her hand
readily on the matches-and light the
delicately shaded candle on the dress
ing table, ere proceeding with her
search and her devotions. At such
times, when Maurice ascended from the
underground regions, where the gas
meter meted out it's dole, to the COM
pany Of his wife above stairs, she would
rate him, right soundly for SO gentle
little body, for what she styled his ''ab-
surd fad" about turning the gas off.
''What do a few extra feet of gas sig
Nifty, when three precious lives might
some night be sacrificed for lack of a
light?" she would exclaim, with as
much dramatic fervor as if she had been
before a row of footlights and a crowded
pit, instead of blue-tinted corrugated
candle and q 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 'sthe merest moonshine,"
and that there were crowds Of cost
lier cribs to crack than Vernal Choice,
you bet!"
Mrs. Green, as rule, deigned no an
swer. She hated slang, and wondered
how man of Maurice's sense-except
upon the meter question--could stoop
to its use. She generally refrained
from saying so, however, like the sensi-
BILE little woman she was, and, resigned
ly filling the baby's feeding bottle, and
tucking the little cherub with sundry
croonings in its bedside cot retired for
the night, leaving Maurice to blow out
the corrugated candle.
It was winter, and it was midnight.
Maurice had a cold, and SO had the
baby. The little cherub,' - in fact. had
''touch Of bronchitis,'' and his hard
breathing as he slumbered restlessly
in 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
on 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
of 30! What could I do to prevent
him from taking cold afresh? Happy
Ithought!-there's that little wooden
wrap in the spare bedroom. It's either
in the middle drawer of the dressing
table or in the wardrobe, I know.
Poor Maurice! he would willingly
go 9nd find it for me, but wouldn't
disturb him tonight for the world.
I'm glad succeeded in persuading him
to sleep in his dressing jacket. Those
nasty influenza colds need care, and
I'm so apt to uncover him in reaching
over to baby. I'll slip into the mex.
room myself"
i Thus soliloquizing she quietly got out
of bed-for where baby came in fear
few out-pushed the turned back bed
clothes gently against her husbands
back SO that he would not miss her,
and proceeded to feel for the matches.
The little receptacle at the bed head
was empty. Not 6 match! ''Oh, dear,
dear, why will Maurice insist upon turn
ing the gas of at the meter, especially
when the 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.
perandum! She knew to foot where
the wrap was, or at least she thought
she did, and she would know it the mo-
ment she laid a finger on it. The lit
tie cherub in the cot coughed in a chok-
ing manner. Light or no light the wrap
must be found, and. without further
delay, the little mother walked ginger
1y into the next room.
No one could fail to find the wardrobe,
as it was the first article of furniture
encountered on entering the room.
When it's door opened it was possible to
view ones self from the bedroom door,
forit consisted of a three-quarter length
mirror in which Mrs. Green was wont
to inspect the chang" of her latest cos.
tune.
'.I'm almost sure it's in the dressing
table drawer" mused Mrs. Green, grow.
ING accustomed f0 the darlxness and as.