The Monticellonian., 1904-06-09
BURNING BANQUO'S GHOST
Copyright, 1901, by Daily Story Pub. Col
F. H. LANCASTER

TIER husbands friend had been making a series of severe remarks anent the inkspot upon her finger, her flushed face, disordered hair and several sheets of scattered manuseript:
 'Ye cannot serve two masters, and | It is my duty as your friend and his friend to tell you so plainly. And I 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- neath love of husband and home ''
 Tt is not an easy something to bury beneath anything the young wife ob- jected. Tor rather. like Banquos ghost, it refuses to stay in the ditch"
 Rises at the feast and mars it, eh? Well, I'm sorry for 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 l feel justified in saying. Good-by, dear child l suppose you know what generally happens when 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 she. Of course he wouldn't complain. And this was not the first time it had happened oh" with a thrill of uneasiness. "he might just as well have gone on being an old bache- Tor" Then, with quick self-reproach "I should be ashamed. am. It is silly My stories never amount to any thing anyway. Half the things 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 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 a tired sound to it, struck the stair she started up, seized the scattered sheets and thrust them into the grate
 II Is concluded shx muttered whimsieally, 'Banquo, thy souls flight if it find heaven. must find it out tonight.
 "Oh, Dick, dear. am so glad you have come. l have just been planning one of those cosy, ehatty 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 a repetition of last evening. Peace and pipe and paper. with his little wife scribbling happily at his elbow It rested him 10 lean back and smoke and watch the light as it 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 be- gan to read like little man. Helen listened with conscientious alertness. Frequently, at the suggestive turn of a phrase the ghost would arise and sit down in the chair opposite but look 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, and make a pair of pillow shams. I must not try to read. That would be a regular pick ax for letting the ghost out. Poor fel- low. I 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?"
 "Oh. 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 a second Macbeth.