The Worthington advance., 1900-06-22
His One Love Dream
1t Lasted Nearly One Day. and Thinks He
Escaped Very Easily.
~~~~~0

MINE o'clock of lovely April morn
~ ing, with the air breathing soft
scents of budding grass and early
spring violets, while overhead the
blue sky stretched it's dazzling dome,
like an arch of glittering sapphire!
Its spring in good earnest said
Mr.. Petro Peterson, as he sat ut his
window, his heels poised on the sx-
treme outer ledge, and fragrant cigar
perfuming the surrounding atmos-
phere. "Heigho! can almost fancy
how the dandelions are starring over
the hills of the old New Hampshire
farm where I was born! Who would
think that it was the 26th of April
already? And my house not let. What
can the real estate agents be thinking
of?'
Mr.. Petro Peterson was stout, bald
headed gentleman of some six-andfor-
ty years of age, with bright hazel eyes,
and neat, compact little figure-one
Of those men whose very air and gait,
even though they were never to speak
ton: II am a man of money and posi-
tom"
II don't see why Mrs. Parker want
ed to give up the house," went on Mr..
Peterson, in his unsyllabled soliloquy.
"She says it's because the price of
board is falling, and she can't afford
to keep up the establishment! a
ic%o III 1f in
great mistake! She's the only wom-
an I ever knew who could make a real
French omelet, or knew what cafe noir
meant! I'm almost tempted to wish-al-
most l say-that had married some
nice, sensible little girl 20 good years
ago; for-dear me, what can all that
r1hs;H. at the bell mean? Why don't
Mrs. Parker answer it? DO the people
mean to pull the wire out bodily, l
wondnr?'
He had just tossed his cigar out of
the window with the intention of him
self hastening to the rescue when a
servant girl came up to his apart
ment, breathless and eager.
"What is it, Hannah 2" he cried, iras-
chilly.
IF ye please, sir. the mistress is
gone to market. and there's no one to
show the house. told 'em would they
call again, but they said perhaps Mr..
Peterson would oblige 'em!'
Every cool of 'em, upon my word!''
cried Mr.. Peterson, mentally eNecrat-
ing the whole race of house hunters.
II beg your pardon, Mr.. Peterson -
cried voice as soft and sprightly as
the notes of the bluebird, "but mamma
and have so many places to go to, and
we thought You wouldn't mind our see
ing the housed"
And Mr.. Peterson's wrath melted
away like morning vapor before her
pretty insolence of demeanor, as she
stood in the doorway, balancing fairy
parasol on her finger, and looking with
saucy artlessness round his bachelor
sanctum, while Mrs. Cope's matronly
countenance appeared in the back
ground.
"You can allow us the privilege of
looking at your house," said JEANNE,
coaxingly. ''I-that is, mamma has got
to move, and although the rent of this
house must, of course, be very high.
she thought, by taking few board
ers she might contrive to meet ex-
penses!"
'Exactly so," said mild Mrs. Cope.
Are you going to move elsewhere ?"
asked JEANNE of our hero, as she
glanced at the half-packed trunks.
"My landlady is" groaned Mr.. Petro
Peterson. ''It's awful to be at the
mercy of a landlady. Miss Cope!"
"But it's all your fault"
call my fault?''
'"To be sure-why didn't you get
married?''
because I was fool!"
"And why don't you get married
now?' pursued the relentless little
sprite.
''Would you." questioned Mr.. Peter
son. gravely, ''if you were I?''
''Of course I would. Get married and
board with us. Mamma will give you
this room. and"
MY dear!" checked Mrs. Cope,
gently.
+ "My dear madam!" cried Mr. Peter
son, still with his eyes fixed on Jean
MES lovely face, 81 assure you think
!, it is an excellent ideal"
And all through their journey from
cellar to French roof, while Mrs. Cope
considered the relative advantages of
this room and that, Mr.. Peterson kept
revolving this same excellent idea" in
his mind.
Miss Jeannie," he said, somewhat
awkwardly, as they turned downstairs,
':supposing I should - ahem - adopt
your suggestion, what would be your
fancy in furnishing suite of rocrns::''
- " -.