The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1903-02-14
THE HAPPIEST TIME.
I'm the harriet quarters.
I BY MARY STEWART CUTTING.
Copyright, 1903, by Mary Stewart Cutting.)

tCOpyGlSnl, 1910, Dy M
~~~~-~~~~~.~.~>e~~
copyrighted by Mary Steward Cutting.
Mr.. Brockton Rivers threw away his
cigar over the piazza railing and leaned
forward on his chair to catch glimpse of
the moon as it rose over the patch of
struggling woods next to the Queen Anne
cottage opposite him. It showed a de-
serted piazza, and a man and his wife and
two small children walking past it. The
man walked with the heavy shuffing
steps of a, laborer. and the woman held
one child by the hand, while the other in
tiny trousers toddled bowleggedly behind
AS they vanished down the street two
silent men on bicycles sped past, their
little lamps twinkling in the shadows
then swiftly driven buggy that sent the
dust flying up on the vines that We're al
ready laden with it. The prevailing smell
of the humid night was of damp weeds.
1t was also very hot.
There were no lights in the house OPP
posite, nor in the one next to 1t, or in the
one next to that, nor were there any, as
he knew without seeing. in either of the
houses next to his own. From farther
down the street came the sound of a
janging piano. From nearer by the per-
sistent wall of a very young infant, be-
came more and more unbearable each in
slant. Mr.. Rivers absent mindedly killed
three feasting mosquitoes at blow, and
rose to his feet with determination He
could stay here no longer. Should he go
out, or retire to his room in the doubtful
comfort of extreme negligee, and read?
1t will, of course be evident to the
meanest suburban intelligence that the
month was August, and that Mrs. Rivers
was away, as were most of her immediate
neighbors, enjoying a holiday by either
mountains or seashore. 1t had been a
pretty bad day in town. Rivers was glad
very glad, that Elizabeth had the change.
She needed it. She had protested against
going, and only yielded at last for the
chldrens sake and in wifely obedience to
lawful masculine authority. He had in
sisted on sleeping in the house alone, in
defiance of her pleading, alleging an af-
finity for his own bed, his own belongings
and an individual bathtub. A woman
came once week to sweep and straighten
up the house. He had repeatedly declared
there would be really nothing to do after
business hours but to go around and en-
joy himself. He would take little trips
to Manhattan Beach with 1.-The boys and
go, to BronXville to see Tom Westfield,
as he had been meaning to for five years,
and visit the roof garden with the Danas,
who were on from st. Louis, and take q jim
ner at the Cafe Ruritania. On the be-
tween nights he would visit the neigh
bors. All these things he had done. more
or less disappointment, but what should
he do tonight?
Il beg your pardon, Rivers. but have
you any paregoric in the house? We've
got to get something to quietsthe baby!
A tall, thin, wearied-looking young
man had come up the steps.
why, how are you, Parker? said Rlv-
ers cordially. "Paregoric Is 1t that you
want? Come inside and Wen have a look
for it, old man." He led the way, scratch
ing matches and dropping them on the
floor as they went out, and finally light
ing the gas in the butler S pantry.
INV wife keapS the medicines on the tor
shelf here to be out of the way Of the
children" he explained II don't know
about the paregoric, though. I seem tc
remember that she didn't believe in it."
We've had a fight with the nurse about
It, said the other man. 'but great Scott
Rivers, we've got to do something.
would have murdered anybody whose
child cried like this one. We've beer
complained of as it is. That's paEegoric
isn't it?''
1T was, but the bottles empty" sait
Rivers who was standing on the rung o
a. chair, holding out a vial now and the1
from an inner recess to read the name OF
it. That's another empty bottle-ant
here's another empty bottle-and this is
another. Bottle Of sewing machine oil
Prescriptions for neuralgia, 49, 9o2
empty. Bottle Of glycerin-confound tn
thing! The cork was out of 1t; get m
handkerchief foA me out of my pocket
will you? Prescription for hair tonic
empty le-another-another empt
prescription bottle-dregs Of cough medi
cine. What in thunder does Bess wan
with all these empty bottles? I'm awful
sorry, Parker, but we don't seem to hav
the stuff you want
Never mind said Parker. 9Th rid
down to the village and get some L
have gone there first, but the tire of m
wheel wants blowing up
Rivers put the bottles back, upsettin
o1y ~ -
powder, out of which ran three cock
reaches. AS he stopped to gather it u
again in the paper he disturbed a half
eaten peach, which he remembered leavin
there the night before, and a small colon
of ants that had made their dwelling in
scuttled cheerily around The who
house seemed given up to a plague Of in
sects. utterly unknown in the reign of il
careful mistress. In spite Of screen
small singing mosquitoes WhiZZed OF
from everything he touched; spiders hun
down from webs in the ceiling and mot
had flown from his closet that very MOI
ming. He kept the blinds and window
closed while he was away all day; he ha
begun by leaving them open, but a slam
ing shower had made havoc in his al
sence and also flooded the cellar throue
the open cellar door. 1t had not dried I
since, and he was sure that there WEI
fieaS down there.
There a deadly hot damp and 81
ence in the dining-roon and parlor as
came through them, and the same Ill
natural atmosphere in the rooms abo,
as he drearily invaded them for a cles
collar. Every place was shut UP and
order; the tops Of the dressing table
even, were bare, save for the clean tow
laid over each. His own room was in
ugly, disheveled confusion He opened
closet door inadvertently, and the sig
of pink kimono of his wife's. and t
hats of the two little boys hanging
neatly beside it, emphasized his solituG
His latest idea of spending the rest-of t
evening at home was gone from him
felt that he could not get out of this a
cursed house quickly enough.
The Callenders! If he only had /
wheel-it was o'clock now. and the pIa