The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1900-08-16


.owels?"
She tells him they are in the bath
toom and he wants to know why on
farth she had not said so instead of let
ting him hunt the fat for half an hour
for towels when he was worn out and
30 sleepy he could hardly keep his eyes
open.
She says nothing, but sinks back on
the pillows and has just closed her eyes,
as he dances in in n condition of ex-
treme bad temper and distinctly i'm
modest attire and demands to know IL
she has used his bath robe for door
mat or sold it to the junk man, as 1t
certainly is not in the fiat. She tells
| him it is hanging on the back of the
! bathroom door and, he dances out re-
minding her that if he dies of quick
consumption 1t will be her fault,
! As she turns her pillow over to the
cool side he puts his head around the
portiere and asks, with intense mild
ness, If she has given his flesh brush
away as prize at some of her cnch
| parties. He knows he used to own one,
but cannot find 1t, which Is not at all
strange in that house, anyway. She re-
minds him that he gave 1t to the baby
! to play hobby-horse with that morn
! ing. He stalks Off, stumbles over the
! furniture, lights all the gas in the fiat,
with the aid Of several matches and
! good deal of eloquence, and Mrs. John
finally creeps wearily out of bed and
finds the brush on the bathroom floor.
| Then she retires to her bed.
In two minutes exactly her lord calls
her In tones that cause her to run to
the bathroom. And she finds him
garbed airily in moderate-sized bath
towel and a liberal supply of what
looks like brown paint. His face is quite
I purple and his language profane.
''Iodine Iodine!" he sputters. Look
at me, will ye? Keepin yer dashed soap
In yer dashed medicine chest as though
/ 1t was some cure for the measles How
was | to know that dashed stopper
would come out, Ell? Look at me! I'm
sight. And the dashed stuff has to
wear off-nothing but time and prayer
and sand paper will move it. And
found everything in there but soap
soap and receipted bills! Everything
from cure for cramps to your marriage
certificate. Wipe me Off, will ye? That
is, what will come OFF. know my back
looks like British war map of Africa.
| I'll go into n museum as the only genu-
inc tattooed man. OF all the places to
say you keep soap, and all the time
suppose it is behind your Venus di
Medci in the parlor, with ten-cent
cup and saucer standing on it. That's
called artistic furnishing nowadays
Don't take all the skin off my spinei
There, thatll do. G'wan to bed and
maybe l can take my bath in peace.
Have you got any washing powder or
lye, seeing there is no soap?"
Mrs. John hands down two cakes of
soap from the third shelf of the medi-
cine chest and her husband snorts as he
grabs cake and steps into the bath
tub. She goes back to bed and this
time falls sound asleep. 1t seems to her
that she has slept about five minutes
when she is aroused by the gas flaring
wildly in her face. Shading her eyes,
she raises herself on one elbow and sees
her lord and master turning the bureau
drawers upside down on the floor.
"What are you looking for, John?7
Her husband sits back on his heela
and grips the bathrobe around him
with both hands.
Looking for?'' he remarks. Look
ing for? AT this time of night? What
would any sane person be looking for,
| do For of m Iraa
suit shirts, maybe, or n pair of silk
socks with sunhowers embroidered on
'em. Have l got nightshirt to my
name or haven't |? Or have you cut
'em all down for Billy? Have l any
rights in this house, anyway? l used
to have some clothes before l had "a
family, but I'll be blamed IL have any
thing any more"
MY dear, your nightshirt is airing
over the back of that chair beside you,"
says Mrs John.
"Air-is it? Well, why in thunder
didn't you say SO? Here I've gone
through all the furniture from the.
chiffonier to your writing-desk look
iag for that shirt rather than wake
you up, But I'm the only one that
seems to have any consideration for
either people in this family"
Mrs. John yawns little and turns
over as her lord struggles into tht
nightshirt. He buttons the shirt at the
neck, then steps over the chaos OF un-
derclothes that he has deposited on
the carpet, shoves a pile Of laces and
gloves that he has emptied from the,
bureau drawers aside with one foot and
winds his watch. Then he shakes his
sleeping wife by the shoulder and asks
her where the keys OF the buffet are,
as he knows he is in for good cold
unless he can take something to ward
it off. He Is drowsily informed that
the keys are in full view on her comb
tray on the dressing table and he de-
parts for the dining-room, remarking
that if people would only leave his
clothes and things where he could find
them without the aid of microscope
he would be grateful. Later on she is
aroused with n request for her mani
cure scissors, but she objects mildly