Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1901-11-02
THE COMING OF CLARA.

| Meadowbrook farm seemed sleeping
that is, everybody but a very small boy
with short. fat legs, chasing butterflies in
and out of the blossoming hedge of roses.
| The little blonde head following the wild
course of the small feet was covered,
| now and then by the falling rose leaves.
| From behind the great blinds and
through the open windows of the almost
! palatial farm house came voices.
Il tell you, Edith" said Hugh Mere
dith, in the cool, darkened library, to
| the young woman sitting opposite him.
"Clara's coming, and you might as well
make the best of it."
But, Hugh, be reasonable. Write
| your friend and tell her, accustomed to
society and every luxury in the East, she
will. find Meadowbrook insufferably dull,
| answered his wife, impatiently.
mo, my dear, it's too late now" said
Hugh, rising, with merry twinkle III
his dark eyes, and taking a letter from
| his pocket, he continued: According to
this, Clara left Chicago on the Limited
| Tuesday night, and will be here this
afternoon. Ta-ta, little woman. If the
weather lasts we shall soon be 'a-hay-
! ing" he added, as he went into the hall
and took a large straw hat from the
| rack
Going out on the broad veranda he
caught a glimpse of the boy. With long
| stride he reached the hedge, and catching
the youngster, he set him on his broad
| shoulder and started for the barnyard,
much to the child's delight.
| Five years ago this June, Hugh Mere
| dith had graduated from Harvard cor
| lege broken and shattered in health. lie
reached Colorado a few weeks later and
was taken to the ranch of Richard Lang
| don. an old friend of his father, where,
! thn SnOf
| crimson or the woods were carpeted with
autumn's deep, rich foliage, he had found
| health-and a wife.
Edith Langdon, a bright girl of Is,
was an only daughter and motherless;;
| HUNDRED, petted and idollzed by her ola
father, she had grown selfish and exact
| ing. She had nursed Hugh Meredith
back to health and happiness, and as the
| handsome young man grew strong anu
robust Cupid's arrow. had pierced the
youthful hearts of both.
The flood of happiness at the birth of
| little, golden haired Dick and the somber
| cloud of sorrow at the sudden death Of
Richard Langdon We're the high lights
| and dark shadows of their married life
as yet. Perhaps Edith's jealousy caused
temporary overcasting of the horizon
at times, but if so, she was wholly UNI
conscious of it. But we are depressing.
AS Edith rose from her chair, after
| her husband had left the room, she no
ticed the letter from his friend, Clara
Rowland, lying on the rug very near the
door.
He had never spoken of Clara until he
received word that Meadowbrook would
have a visitor Picking up the letter,
she turned it over two or three times,
admiring the firm masculine handwriting
| Then, with a nervous glance around the
room and flush of crimson on her pref
ty face, she took the letter from the en-
velope and read:
Chicago, June 17-My Dear Hugh;
leave for Banff Springs tonight. l must
stop at Meadowbrook and see you, even
| though you are surprised at my seeming
presumption after what has passed between
us. But knowing your generous nature.
and at last willing to acknowledge myself
In the wrong, / feel, for the sake of the
old days, you will forgive and forget.
Yours as ever, CLARA.
Edith shook as she read the signature.
Her face was now as white as the dress
she wore. Pulling a bunch of roses still
wet with the dew from her bosom,
which Hugh had given her that morn
ing. she threw them on the floor and
crushed them beneath her small foot.
Sitting down by the table, she leaned
her throbbng head upon her hand This,
then. was the reason why her husband
had not given her the letter to read,
as was his custom after opening his mail.
And the recipient of such an epistle was
l
and obey. she, thought, with Il scornful
curve of the lips.
: Going slowly to her room. she locked
the door, and did not answer when Hugh
knocked gently and said luncheon was
ready.
She determined not to be in the house
when the perhdious couple came from the
: station. Hugh had had the atrocious-
ness at the breakfast table to suggest
that she drive over with him TO meet
, their visitor, and she, poor fool, had
readily consented
= Taking every silver toilet article from
her dressing table, an inlaid workbox. a
/ carved mahogany sewing table, and other
, knek- knacks about her room that Hugh
had given her. she carried them into the
guest chamber uneonSciouSly duplicating
; the array of curling irons powder boxes,
button hooks and cold cream bottles.
After throwing her blue silk kimono
across the bed and placing her Japanese
slippers ut the foot OF it, she hurried
from the room.
= The creature Clara had won her hus-
: band 5 heart some time in the past. WHY
not leave her the pretty things that She
had cherished for the sake of the donor
At o'clock she saw Hugh drive down
the carrlageway to the road. Hastily
; changing her dress for her riding habit
she went to the stable and mounted her
= own saddle horse.
! \ gallop to Aunt Martha's might COO
her feverish brain and help her to decide
how To meet her husbands treachery.
About fifty rods from the house she
, heard a little voice screaming at the tot
I of pair of husky lungs
Mamma. Mamma! Is YOU betterg'
Refining her horse and looking down in
70 the tall grass, she saw her little sol
2 lying fiat on his stomach, kicking his lit
= tie heels.
What are you doing, Dickie?" asked
the astonished mother
I, Ssh Use waitin' for Biddy TO Law al
] ! egg" 10y -
{ Dickie had hardly spoken when larg
d, Cochin China, the tramp OF the farm
y yard, stood up, Tapped her wings ana an
, nouneed Justify in her own language wha
she had accomplished.
Dickie sprang up and took the egg
e Walking through the long grass. y
5 reached the road where his mother ma
% diSmounted.
7, Here, mamma, It's white and warn
an YOU dess eat it, cause it'll make We
we'll" said the child. ali out Of breath.
{ Edith Sfpapp1 and nick cd M, hpr no