The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1898-06-22
A Middle Half Discovery
By INA BREVOORT.

TT WAS an evening in early spring,
and the windows of Mrs. Darling
toms room had been opened to admit
the fresh air, laden with promise of
summer. But, alas! the breeze carried
with it something more-the sound of a
violin played very badly.
There's that dreadful noise again.
You will have to close the windows,
Jane said Mrs. Darlington to her maid,
who laid down the curling tongs and
obeyed her mistress. Mrs. Darlington
turned from the silver-laden dressing
table before which she sat, and con-
fronted her husband, who was on the
other side of the room reading his pa
per.
cts no use, James, she said, rising
anger and peulance mingling in her
tones; 81 simply can't stand that noise.
You must speak to that man to-mor-
row."
"My DEAR" answered her husband, in
a slightly amused tone, show many
times must I tell you that should be
making myself ridiculous? The man
has right to play on his own violin in
his own house."
"Play! Do you call that playing?"
at is what every beginner has to &c
through, and by whatever name you
choose to call it, it is nothing to which
we have any right to object said Mr..
Darlington. eff he played at unsea-
sonable hours, or if we had illness in the
house, 1 should have some excuse for
complaining"
illness, indeed. And what do you
call illness, l should like to know? If
this annoyance continues, my nerves
will be worn to nothing in a short time
Her husband thought this might be
a very good thing, but he did not say
so. He was too wise a man for that.
Instead, he returned to his paper and
silence reigned, but not for long.
There, now you may go, Jane; 1 will
ring when want you again." said Mrs.
Darlington, when the last strand was
waved and her hair had been carefully
dressed.
When the maid had noiselessly left
the room, Mrs. Darlington said, some
what impatiently: 81 do wish you
would attend to me, James,"
what is it, my dear?" said her hus-
band, mildly, again laying aside his
paper.
"'What is it?' You don't listen to a
per was not taken up again until his
wife had entered her carriage, and been
driven rapidly away.
"The idea of putting such house in
this neighborhood! 1t was ridiculous
thing to do" said Mrs. Darlington to
her intimate friend, Mrs. Mason, as they
sat at lunch together on the following
formers house. The massive sideboard
lowered above them majestically, its
burden of silver and cut glass sparkling
in the one ray of sunlight which
pierced through the closed blinds. The
air outside was soft and fragrant, but
Mrs. Darlington's head ached-hence
the dim light.
''Who owns the house, and why did
you allow anyone to build there?' asked
Mrs. Mason. "You told me once that
you intended buying that lot for rose
garden.
II did," replied her friend, "but l
thought there was no hurry. did not
suppose the man who owned it would
die, and leave the lot to some nephew,
who would obstinately refuse a good
offer because he wanted to build his cot
tage there. 1t is cottage-nothing but
a cottage" she finished, setting down
her teacup with force that made both
cup and saucer rattle.
''It certainly is pity" said Mrs. Ma
son, as they rose from the table and
rtrolled out to the piazza, with its invit-
ing hammocks and comfortable chairs
Unconsciously they both looked over
at the offending house. 1t stood on the
next street, SO that its back windows
faced the back windows of Mrs. Oar.