Waterbury evening Democrat., 1904-08-04
BURNING BANQUO'S GHOST
tcopyrIght, lVOl, by pally story Pub. co.l
F. H. LANCASTER

making series ot severe remarks anent the inllspot upon her finger, her flushed face, disordered hair and several sheets of scattered manuscript:
 'Ye cannot serve two masters, and 1t is my duty as your friend and his friend to tell you so plainly. And l must say that it seems to me that this inspiration-I believe that is the word you literary people use-thisl love of scribbling. could be easily buried be- meath love of husband and home'
 "It 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 1t, eh? ! Well, I'm sorry fer you--I am sorry for you both" Severe gray eyes looked down critically into bothered brown ones, and her husbands friend smiled loftily. Well, I've said all that feel justified in saying. Good-by. dear child. I suppose you know what generally happens when a man begins to feel himself neglected?"
 Helen murmured that she did and watched the erect figure sweep down the garden path "Go," she quoted soft ly, 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 she4 Of course he wouldn't complain. And this was not the first time 1t had happened. "Oh," with a thrill of uneasiness, The might just as we'll have gone on being an old bache- Tor" Then, with quick self-reproach, "I should be ashamed. I am. It is silly. My stories never amount to any thing anyway. Half the things I write gre rejected. Why can't I bury this ghost that Is haunting our feast and keep 1t buried?" She dropped her head into her hands. It would be hard to foreswear scribbling-how hard only those who have scribbled know-and she shrank from making a resolution that she might not be strong enough to keep. But AS his step, with tired sound 10 it. struck the stair she started up, seized the scattered sheets and thrust them into the grate
 Tt is concluded,' she muttered, whimsically. l" 'Banquo, thy souls flight if 1t find heaven, must find it out tonight.
 "Oh, Dick, dear, am so glad you have come. I have just been planning one <of those cosy, chatty little even ings like we used to have when we were first married"
 Sure, sweetheart?" Dick said. cor dially, but his spirit groaned. He had just been planning repetition of last evening. Peace and pipe and paper, with his little wife scribbling 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 1 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 be- gan to read like little man. Helen listened with conscientious alertness. Frequently, at tho suggestive turn of phrase the ghost would arise and sit down In the chair opposite; but look ing at her dear boys tired face and 1 feeling the weariness in his voice. she found It easy to order her Banquo back ] beneath the sod
 "I will hem those sheets tomorrow. :" she reflected exultingly, land make a pair of pillow shams. I must not try to read That would be regular pick ax for letting the ghost out. Poor fel- low, wonder if he has been feeling neglected"
 And the next day and the next, Dick, no longer neglected, came wearily homo to read aloud until he began to think I wistfully of bachelor days. At last the inevitable evening came that brought 1 the despairing question::
 What has become of your writing, 1 little woman?'
 HOh, don't know" Helen replied hurriedly. Just then she was longing for her writing" with all her soul, and this abrupt entrance of the ghost shook her like 8 second Macbeth. Dick looked down with kindly, hu- unorous eyes.
 "Never mind" he consoled "'Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell ''
 "oh, please don't quote Macbeth" She got tip hastily and walked to the window. If she could only tell Dick all about 1t. But of course she mustn't This sacrifice, like most of the sacri- fees. women make for men, must be kept dark secret. The pathetic part about it being in this case, as in most similar cases, that the man, had he known, would have been quick to repu- diate the sacrifice. But not knowing it so chanced that in the long days that followed big. kind hearted Dick hat the role of selfish brute thrust upor him and watched the restless light take possession of his little wife's hereto fore happy brown eyes, without for 2 moment suspecting that his supposed sensitiveness was at the bottom of al her bother He imagined as any other