The Monticellonian., 1904-06-09

Dick looked down with kindly, hu- morous eyes.
 Never mind" he consoled. "Angels are bright still, though the brightest i fell
 "Oh, please don't quote Macbeth" She got up hastily and walked to the window. If she could only tell Dick all about it. But of course she mustn't This sacrifice, like most of the sacri- fees women make for men. must be kept a dark secret. The pathetic part about it being in this case, as in most similar cases, that the man, had he 1 known, would have been quick to repu- | diate the sacrifice. But not knowing 1t so chanced that in the long days that followed big. kind-hearted Dick had the role of selfish brute thrust upon him and watched the restless light take possession of his little wife's hereto fore happy brown eyes, without for a moment suspecting that his supposed sensitiveness was at the bottom of all her bother. He imagined, as any other sane man would have done, that she had met with some discouraging rebuff that had turned her heart against her favor ite fad. But he scarcely expected her heart to stay turned and he certainly did not approve of that jaded air. For Helen was suffering the same sensa- tion that induced Macbeth to com i plain
 "Methought heard voice cry sleep no more"
 
 Had not she, too, murdered her best l friend? That stanch ally that had borne with her the brunt of so many battles? Small wonder that she could not sleep. Ghosts ever walk by night. Yet she had no thought of giving over the attempt to keep the ghost under ground. She shook her head at the free glad thoughts that came clamor- ing for perpetuation and shut her eyes against pen-pictures praying to be put on paper. With all the might of reso- lution she closed her heart against the tempting intoxication of that exquisite self-abandonment-"The clean. strong i joy of reating"-whieh once known is agony to forego.
 But the incessant fight wearied her. and 1t was with last flicker of her old whimsical fun that she put up the prayer:
 With some sweet obivious anti dote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart
 And presently the plot began to thicken, for the cook took a hand. Hell en, having found sheets and shams a sorry substitute for studies went in ve- hemently for housekeeping, proving about the pantry. fidgeting over closet shelves and cleaning of cutlery, con- cocting incredible cakes to be cried over in private. but blamed upon cook in public-the upshot being, that cook, exasperated. gave notice. 1 It was at this unlucky crisis that Dick, noting the worried wrinkles upon the brow that was once serene and thoughtful. put down his coffee with 1 the query:
 Don't you think Helen, that you should do less fancy work and-er- read more?"
 .'l can't" she replied briefly. 1 Dick took prospective glance at long line of g-aloud-evenings and felt that the time had come to set aside delicacy of feeling and dread of intrud- ing
 Why can't you?" he insisted and poor, tormented Helen answered tart l ly:
 Because I'm letting dare not wait upon would like the poor cat f the adage!"
 Why, Helen," "Oh, didn't mean to be sharp. I-'
 Dick laid hand on either shoulder and looked down steadily into her troubled eyes
 Do you know" he said gently. "I used 10 have little wife that scrubbed out all her frets and worries. and she was such jolly little wife," He took pad of white paper from his pocket, also fountain pen and a beautifully sharpened lead pencil. and laid them impressively side by side upon the ta- ble. Then he kissed her between her bothered brown eyes and went out quickly.
 Helen sank back in her chair with an uncertain little laugh.
 Why. he'd rather didi" From | some odd corner memory brought the i line: I've seotched the snake. not killed it." and she laughed exultingly. "I haven't even scotched it." Then suddenly sitting up. But. Lord Osi- ris, whose feet are upon the crocodiles. what a title that would be: "A Scotched i Snake!'"
 When Dick came home that evening l he found flushed cheeks and roughened hair flying pencil and scattered sheets of manuscript; and settled himself contentedly to pipe and paper murmur- ing tenderly:
 Lay on Macduff, and damned be him who first cries Hold, enough!' I"