The Portland daily press., 1899-09-20

distraction, not consolation.
He certainly found none OF the latter
article. A small, WHY man. with an
eager manner. Roberts by name, was in
the smoking room when Stromberg came
10. He was a man whom Stromberg had
often cxhorted to keep cool.
"You look blue. Stromberg," said Rob
erts. "Never mind, you'll be gay enough
this time tomorrow evening. It's going
20 be a glorious Affair.""
"Yes, but shall not be there" Strom-
berg groaned. please don't start talk
ing about that blessed euchre dance. Ev-
crybody does"
"delloi Say, Stromberg, let me give
you piece Of advice. 1t never pays 70 get
ratified. Now. what's the trouble7"
mo trouble at all, Stromberg snapped
back. "Simply, Mrs. Marshall hasn't
chosen TO invite me TO her dance. She
wasn't obliged to, you know"
''0h, but she did, though"
''Did she? Then perhaps you'll tell me
what has become Of the invitation.
haven't got It,"
Invitations went out by mail" said
Roberts, putting ON for this occasion the
calm. deliberate manner that belonged to
Stromberg habitually. "Inyitations don't
get stolen from the United States mail"
'No. they don't. That's why say this
one never was sent"
"0h, but you get so many letters. you
know" Roberts insisted. Better go TO
your Office and rake over your desk"
Now, Strombcrg did not like TO take
advice from an eager. green, excitable
young fellow like Roberts. But this was
a serious case, and all exceptional More
over. Stromberg really began to wonder
whether the invitation might not be
knocking about on his desk at the office.
So when he thought himself unobserved,
he very quietly sneaked out OF the club
and into the dark, deserted Office.
After ten minutes search among the
papers on his desk and in the drawers it
occurred to him that an limitation to a
dance would not be sent to his business
address. Then he got up, and, slamming
the door angrily, went home to bed
Curiously enough. as he entered his
room his eye fell upon a pair of black
trousers that hung on a stretcher right
opposite TO him. Those trousers were
being stretched for the following nights
dance. Stromberg laughed bitter laugh
as he jerked the unoffending garments
down and pitched them into a closet. He
thought OF all he had looked forward to.
Next he looked backward-to the last
occasion on which he had worn those
dress clothes. He sat on a rocker and
meditated bitterly.
Suddenly Stromberg sprung from the
rocker with shout. He flung open the
door of his closet, seized the dress coat
that hung in there and fumbled in the
inside pocket. There was a small, gray
note in that pocket. Is it necessary to
say that the note was Mrs. Marshal's?
Surely it was miserable night that
Stromberg passed. What hurt him
what ruined his hopes-was the 'R. S. v.
T." at the end of the note.
| Early in the morning he rushed to
| Clara. She had not yet finished her
breakfast. What was worse, she had
told her mother all about Stromberg's
little lapse of memory, and Stromberg
was welcomed to the breakfast table
with loud laughter.
Il wanted to beg you to help me out"
said Stromberg. You might-speak to
Mrs. Marshall and explain you know"
mot l." said Clara. II warned you to
keep cool, you know"
give me that letter." said Mrs. Wiles
with authority. CLARA, you ought to be
ashamed of YOURSELF"
1t was Mrs. Wiles that undertook the
diplomatic mission. She placated Mrs.
Marshall, who, to tell the TRUTH much
needed placating. By o'clock that even
ing she delivered into Stromberg's hands
a written full pardon and extension of
the invitation.
Stromberg was at the dance. But Clara
cruelty pretended that the dances she
had promised him were forfeited. He
got those dances. all the same, though
with a refinement of cruelty she enter
tanned large circle at supper with the
tale of the overlooked gray little note.
And everybody numerically chaffed
Stromberg, saying, Here is the man who
never gets ratified. "-Pittsburg Press.