The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1899-03-19
AFTER THE THREE BALLS.
Meditations of Sweet Young Thing in
Centerville.

Centerville.
She arose from her couch at day
break yesterday morning in Centerville
She was tired, lame, detected, morose,
sullen. She wondered. Twice. three
times, again and again her mother
called to her to get up and get papas
breakfast. He must be off to the
nine.' 1t was trying moment.
There was a dull, tantalizng, hum
drum sort of sensation crowding itself
under her disarranged coiffure-a
mocking echo of the hours only very
recently past. The rattle of the stove
lids as she piled them up preparatory
to lighting the kindlings seemed to be
a harsh continuation of or rather a
parody on the sweet strains of the or
chestra. AS she peeled the spuds, the
tea kettle simmered an air that sound
ed strangely like the dear old two
step. There was melody in everything,
even the meowing of the house cat as
he pointed his tail at the knot hole
in the ceiling and asked in his peculiar
way for a piece Of the beefsteak that
was being hammered into shreds by the
potato masher. The clatter of the
knives and forks coming in contact
with the snowwhite porcelain plates as
they passed from cupboard to table
seemed to be g welcome reiteration of
the masculine appeal, May I haye the
next waltz" There was a welcome re-
minder Of the restaurant box party
when the coffee pot boiled over and
deodorized the fresh morning atmos-
phere now being pierced by the mellow
radiatiOns from the Kitchen range.
Occasionally vivid recollection was
| waited on a gust of air that had come
in contact with the perfumed handker-
chief which. who can tell, perchance
had been used a few hours before in
executing the lovers code of tele-
graphy. There was a striking famil-
iarity in the gruff commands of papa
as he sat at the table and expressed his
desire to have his coffee cup refilled.
How large the rooms appeared to be!
how awkward, yet familiar the furnish
ings Papa had gone to the mine. She
was again alone; her mother had not
yet dressed for breakfast the baby was
still asleep. The song of the tea kettle
grew more soothing, like the strains of
that sleepy medley, Home, Sweet
Home" How comfortable her couch
looked, her eyes grew heavy. All was
still The cat had curled up under the
stove and was sleeping the sleep of the
sleepy The couch that had hardly be-
come warm by the cuddling of the
young girl. looked prettier than it ever
did before. inviting, irresistible. One
thought with but a single purpose, one
girl soon fast asleep. This time there
was no duty combating the quiet re-
pose Papa had had his breakfast.
Dreams sweet and week long came
and went All of the petty, yet in
delible incidents of that memorable
night passed through the mind of the
sleeping beauty. 1t was an endless
chain Of golden, fringed, sweet-scented
nothings Envy was linked with JOY.
anticipation with the real. Stern life
with its volume of realities and pleas
antries, shorn of all its undesirable
features was being lived over again in
that moment of delicious repose and
abandon. Twas only a moment.
though She had just relapsed into the
floating, billowy domain of Morpheus
when mamma came to the door and
shouted at the extreme top of her
voice:
cit up. We lazy girl! 1t is 6 o'clock
on after, and We still snoring like an
air compressor. Git out of this. I say,
it's high time We had the washin' on
the line. A young strap of girl as
can take in three dances in one night
is we'll able to git up in the mornin' and
do the family WaShin'.'