Waterbury evening Democrat., 1903-09-25
'APowerfl1l Blend
By CLAUDIA ASHTON


 doctor with a slight acerbity, for he had been asked the same question many times, and as his patient was suffering only from feverish cold, such extreme anxiety seemed absurd to him. How could he know that John Martin, the man who had begun life as an errand boy, and now had more money than he l knew what <to do with, had only one dread, which was, that the wife he adored, who had fought by his side through long years of hardship and helped him to win success, might be taken from him?
 On this occasion Mrs Martin had a bad cold, and the doctor had advised her to stay in bed for day or two. With his wife confined to her room, John Martin was absolutely lost. He had insisted on her having a trained nurse,> and he spent all his time in wandering disconsolately about the house.
 You are quite sure,' he said to the doctor, 'tperfectla% there is noth- ing seriously wrong; she-she-is not sickening for anything?"
 Only the old mans intense anxiety prevented the doctor from answering him quite sharply, but he replied again that Mrs. Martin had merely severe cold
 You'll come in and see her again this afternoon, won't you?" asked John Mar tin as he accompanied the doctor to the door.
 "I really don't think" began the doc tor, but something in the trusting blue eyes, more like those of child than of a man who had looked on the world for seventy odd years, stopped him. .'Very well, will look in again." he said, and went.
 John. Martin had a miserable, lonely l lunch, and then betook himself to the li- brary, where he sat in front of the fire and regretted that riches had come to him. In the old, far-off days when Mary had cold he looked after her himself. Now, if he went into her room the nurse seemed to resent it.
 His thoughts went back 1ongingly to the rare occasions when she had had a headache, and he had made her special cup of tea, which always cured her. He | smiled as he remembered she always said no one could make cup of tea like he could. How Perkins, the immaculate butler, would scora such a proceeding. Still, if his tea could cure Mary's head ache, why should he not make some? Why should he not make tea, if he so desired? He was master; he could do as he chose.
 He looked at the fire; it's glowing em- bers were ideal for toast, and Mary al- ways liked bit of hot buttered toast with her tea And why not make it? Not , fin the kitchen, of course, not under the l dfsapproving eyes of the servants, but ! here, in the library, in secret and alone. 1 There were difficulties, certainly, but they could be overcome; he squared his shoulders and sat up very straight. He would do it. Mary should have tea, not the weak, washy stuff the housekeeper provided, but tea with a good, strong flavor about it, such as they had enjoyed In the old days of poverty and freedom He would buy the things and smuggle l them into the library.
 He decided that his purchases could not be made in the shops where the trades people knew him, so he walked for some distance till he came to side street, and here he found what he wanted. And what a number of Gur- chases were needed! Tea first, of course,
 
 pence pound, good, pungent, black tea; a quarter of a pound of sugar, bread for the toast, and quarter of a pound of fresh butter. Even milk he had to buy, so he bought a pennyworth, and bottle In which to carry it!
 But this was not all; cups, saucers. plates, knives, toasting-fork. all were needed. He might, he thought, abstract 1, S-s. Perkins was downstairs, and at the same time he might secure the silver teapot. But for the silver teapot he felt only scorn; his soul hankered to see again on the tea-tray little brown earth enware pot. So he bought brown teapot and two blue cups and saucers, which re- minded him of some Mary and he had bought when they were furnishing their cottage.
 Fate was kind in allowing him to en- ter his house unobserved; he shut him. self in the library and began prepara- tions. With what joy he examined his purchases. Mary always said he could cut bread for toast better than anyone else, and his hand trembled with con- scious pride as he cut two even slices. Then he put the kektle-for he had bought kettle too-on to boil How busy he was, how happy, how important! He sat down before the red coals tc make the toast, holding it at exactly the right distance, so that it would brown without burning.
 He almost fancied himself back in the old home; he could see the dresser GOV ered with blue plates and dishes, the White-Washed walls gay with pictures. , the wide old-fashioned fireplace, on one l side of which sat Mary, rocking cradle. "A sob choked in his throat. if the baby