Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1904-11-25

AROUND ner ypeWrlLer WIN us lOaueu
copy holder, the work his entrance
had interrupted.
What have you got on to-day?" he
asked, genially.
She replied promptly and pleasantly:
Nothing of any consequence"
1t this reply he turned toward her
surprised. Heretofore she had ever been
eager to talk to him about her work or
his. And he had enjoyed these talks not
a little, rather proud of the compre-
hension that enabled him to cover her
skips and understand where most men
would have been utterly at fault. Had
enjoyed this next to the ready sympathy
that comforted all his bothers. So he
looked at her carefully as she lay back
in her swivel chair, her hands inert
upon the arms of it, a cigarette dropping
from one corner of her well-made
mouth, the serenity of her brow, the
fire of her soul-lit eyes, the grim courage
Of her chin, and asked kindly: "Tired?"
Daisy reused instantly. why, did
you want a%nything?"
Madison was too Injured to the doc
trine that a woman should always be
ready to serve a mans purpose to notice
the unconscious sarcasm of her re-
spouse. Besides, he did want something.
1t had occurred to him many times
that it would be well for his work and
well for him if Daisy Dunbar should
come to be a counterpart of his life, a
hand-maiden to keep trimmed and
tended the lamps of his genius. But
while he craved her comprehension he
shrank from the thought of marrying a
who made such scant sacrifices
to the gods of his temples. He shud-
dered at the thought of introducing as
his wife a m he could not control.
A woman who would say what she saw
fit to say, and do what she saw fit to do,
whether the powers that be approved
or disapproved. Hitherto he had
counted Daisy Dunbar a hard-headed
oma But her present patience under
the first reproof he had ever admins
tered quickened Madison to sweeter
dreams. If she loved him she would be
eager to bow her high head beneath his
caressing hand; to forego her cigarettes
for the deep kisses of a mans great love;
to yield her splendid spirit to his mould
ing. He would be ever so patient and
gentle, he promised himself in a glow
of tenderness. He would make submits
sion sweet to her. He would condOne
her bad breaks and forgive them. He
would not expect her to change instantly
from the untamed thing to the tanned.
But he would teach her-ah, how ten
derby. A pleasant moisture welled to
his lids. His lips trembled. He took his
hands n%ervously from his trouser
pockets and turned to her. She vas still
absorbed in that study Of green and blue.
and the tenth hung half-forgotten from
her fingers.
What are you thinking Off" he asked.
tenderly.
"Of the deep Joys of moving"
Moving! You are not going to
mover"
Daisy b%ethought herself of the cigar
cite and coaxed 1t gently. aye" she
said through the smoke, 81 move out
tomorrow"
But Daisy, you mustn't do that"
Excuse me, Mr.. Madison, but when
did l give you the right to my first
name?"
Wont you give me the right to your
first name If l give you the right t. my
last one? Won't that be a fair trade?
Dear, did it never occur to you that you
and I were made for each other?"
why, yes. In a way, we are"
Don't you think we would be very
happy II we belonged to one another?'
do you think it would be pleasant
to belong to somebody else?"
II think 1t would be very pleasant to
belong to you, dear"
do you? Do you know what belong
ing means? To be bridled and bitted, to
come at a call and go at a touch. If you
belonged to me I should require you to
do as l did; to accept my judgments and
bow to my decisions. Do you think that
would be so pleasant"
But, dear, l used the term in a deeper,
more sacred sense"
Rather, you used it in a more fem
mime sense, I fancy. 1t vas I that was
to do most of the belonging, wasn't it?'
She got up, n~egligently busting the ashes
from her long tie and smiling at him in
go~od-natured amusement. Too strong
for bitterness; too fearless for falsity;
her words came quiet to gentleness:
well dear sir, the chances are that "a
or even one hour ago, l should have
been glad and proud to do the belong
ing-I've dreamed my dream and fec
my soul on things that seemed for quite
an infatuated while. Luckily YOU
wanton insult walked me from my dream,
ing; and albeit the waking was rathe,
rude, I thank you for it in that it was
so timely. So l fancy now, that l will
as I said, move out to-morrow-her
after pin my faith to the things that are.
Madison forgot how he was to teaci
her in all tenderness and with grea'
gentleness. His voice rang rude Will
impatience: