The Montgomery advertiser., 1904-04-22
BURNING BANQUo's GHOST.
BY F. H. LANCASTER.

10N AAs0 DAAsXO0 - oA&O9
 BY F, H. LANCASTER.
 (copyright, 1904. by Daily Story. Pub
 Co.)
 Her husbands friend had been mak- ing a series of severe remarks aneni the inkspot upon her finger. her flush ed face. disordered hair and several sheets of scattered manuscript:
 "fFe cannot serve two masters, and it Is my duty as your friend and his friend to tell you so plainly. And ] must say that it. seems to me that this inspiration-I believe that is the word you literary people use--this love Of scribbling, could be easily buried be- meath love of husband and home
 Tt is not an easy something to bury beneath anything" the young wife ob- jected. "or rather. like Banquo's ghost 1t refuses to stay in the ditch."
 Rises at the feast and mars it, eh? Well. I'm sorry for you'll am sorry for you both" @Severe gray eyes looked down critically into bothered brown ones. and her hnshand,s friend smiled lofitly. Well, I've said all that I feel justified in saying. Good-hy, dear child. l suppose you know what generally happens when q man begins to feel himself negiectede"
 Helen murmured that she did and watched the erect figure sweep down the garden path. "Go." she quoted softly. ''and stand not upon the order of your going" Then she sat down to think. Was she neglecting Dick. the dear old darling? Conscience came a ready accuser. Last evening she had written from tea until bedtime. True, he had seemed to be enjoying his paper, but he was so kind and patient so strong and forceful. and so much older than she. Of course he wouldn't t complain. And this was not the first time 1t had happened. ''oh," with q thrill of uneasiness, he might just as well have gone on being an old bache- Tor" Then. with quick self-approach. T should be ashamed. I am. It Is silly. My stories never amount to any, thing anyway. Half the. things I write are rejected. Why can't I bury this ghost that is haunting our feast and keep it buried?" She dropped her head into her hands. It would be hard to foreswear scribbilng-how hard only those who have scrubbed know--and she shrank from making a resolution that she might not be strong enough to keep. But as his step. with tired sound to it, struck the stair she started up seized the scattered sheets and
 
 It is concluded" she muttered. whimslcaiiy. ".Banquo. thy souls flight if it find heaven, must find it out to-night'''
 .Oh. Dick dear, am so glad you have come have just been planning me of those cosy, chatty little evenings like we used to have when we were first married"
 Sure. sweetheart" Dick said, cor disily. but his spirit groaned. He had just been planning a repetition of last evening. Peace and pipe and paper. with his little wife scribbiing happily at his elbow. It rested him to lean back and smoke and watch the light as 1t came and went in her dear young face. It is so much easier, this silent presence. when one is tired. But Helen was saying:
 "or if you feel like reading aloud I'll find some fancywork." Dick was de- lighted, of course. and after the tea table was cleared and the curtains drawn, he took down a book and began to read like a little man. Helen lis- tened with conscientious alertness. Frequently, at the suggestive turn of a phrase the ghost would arise and sit down in the chair opposite; but looking at her dear boys tired face and feel ing the weariness in his voice, she found it easy to order her Barfquo back beneath the sod. s|
 T will hem those sheets to-morrow," z" she reflected exultingtly, and make al pair of pillow shams. must not try 10 read That would be a regular pick ax for letting the ghost out Poor feI- low. wonder if he has been feeling neglected"
 And the next day and the next. Dick, no longer neglected, came wearily home to read aloud until he began to think wistfully of bachelor days. At last the inevitable evening came that brought the despairing question:
 What has become of your writing, little woman?" lurriedly. Just then she was longing Tor her writing" with all her soul, and this abrupt entrance of the ghost shook her like a second Macbeth.
 Dick looked down with kindly, hu- eyes.
 Never mind" he consoled, "Angels ire bright still, though the brightest ,elir"
 .'oh. please don't quote Macbeth" She got up hastily and walked to the l window. If she could only tell Dick l III about 1t. But of course she mustn't 1 This sacrifice. like most of the sacri- | ices women make for men. must be | kept dark secret The pathetic part | Lbout 1t being in this case. as in most | 'imilar cases that the man, had he | Snown. would have been quick to re- 1udiate the sacrifice. But not know | ng. 1t so ehanced that in the long days | hat followed big, kind hearted Dick | lad the role of selfish brute thrust | ipon him and watched the restless | light take possession of his little | vife's heretofore happy brown eyes, | without for a moment suspecting that l iis supposed sensitiveness was at the | bottom of all her bother. He imagined, | IS any other sane man would have | lone. that she had met with some dis 'ouraging rebuff that had turned her | leRrt against her favorite fad. But he | scarcely expected her heart to stay | turned and he certainly did not ap- 1 prove of that jaded air. For Helen was |