Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1905-10-19

out. All is quiet in your little, home.
and you at last can sit down for a chat
with your husband, who. is not at his
club this evening. This is such a treat
YOU must make the most of it.
Settled in your pretty little l5oudoir
with its Japanese hangings, you are so
happy that your content stills you into
silence. Your husband has ON the lit
tie white waistcoat which you so liked.
ana stretched at full length upon the
couch, he blows ceilingward rings of
grayish smoke from the good pipe of
fine tobacco which he adores-next to
you.
Close TO him, you busy yourself with
I your embroidery, saying nothing, lis
tening 20 the parter Of the rain in the
street, to the cracking of the wood
burning brightly in the fireplace, and
to the regular ticlz-tick of the clock.
1t is evening ana nearly 8.
All, but this is comfort exclaims
your husband, starting from his rev.
cry. How pretty you look this even
ing, my jeanette, That negligee is
vastly becoming to you. Is it the
fashion now to wear a little black
bow in the hair? Come, kiss me-
and thousand other things as pleas
ing, for these husbands know how to
be agreeable when they choose to be.
The bell rings.
You must open the door, for the
maid IS out. There is no avoiding it.
The light in the houdoir mas surely
been seen and callers must be admit
ted.
Your husband rises and yawns
Lord can we have no peace?" And
he goes to see what Christian people
have come to disturb this quiet home.
We have you finally" exclaims a
small fute-like voice. What luck to
find you in this evening, ana in your
little white waistcoat! All! just as I
ADORE my husband"
Your wife is not i'll, I trust?" in
quires a big, deep voice, the antithesis
! of the fute-like notes.
mo, thank you, she is not. Come
in. She will come down" Go him
self: What a bore, Bon Dieu, We
who wish to be alone and quiet!
jeanette, my dear, come down. 1t is
good Mr.. Ladouccr who has come
with his wife for little game of
cards"
You reply-"Yes. my love, I will
come Immediately"
And while your husband pats him.
self out in civilities to your guests
you make your toilet and 10 minutes
later appear, charming, at the door OF
the salon, your courage in one hand
your annoyance in the other, forcing a
smile to carry you through the even
ing.
After the usual greetings and com
mentS upon the weather, the children,
and the maids who make life so hide
Gus, the cards and counters are
! brought out AMI you turn your atten-
ton to the queen of hearts and the
king of spades.
1t is 2 o'clock in the morning. Your
husbands eyes are like two pinholes,
he is so sleepy. Already he has lost
S9-poor boy
Nine dollars. 1t is the price of a
| dainty blouse of crepe de chine-of a
trinket-cf hat Nine dollars,
which you have not, which Mr. La
douceur takes from you to give tc his
wife, who has already spent it a dozen
times in Imagination Nine dollars
How provoking it is!
You step upon yours husbands toe
lucky for you that yen do not hit
your guests. He gives you a glance
Of pity not unmixed with tenderness.
You respond by terrible pair of eyes
which signify, DO win, you are ruin
ing YOURSELF"
But his ambition is dulled by
drcwsiEcss and fatigue 1t is too great
an effort to win; his eyes close in spite
of himself He barely smothers a
yawn-moreover the host must lose,
courtesy demands it,
You seem tired, dear madame, -
cries the little hute-like voice of Mrs.
Ladouceur, who would not leave for
the world.
mot at ALL" you protest, 1T is my
digestion which fatigues me-" The SO
of your husband are on your stomach.
There is nothing on earth so poorly
digested as silver-when ne hasn't it.
At last the game ends.
With what a sense of relief you pass
some biscuits and cordial, wondering,
Won't they go now?'
Your husband, forcing himself to
amiability solely to please you, brings
nuts and raisins and Mr.. Ladouceur
and his wife nibble like two rats.
MY wife will sing to u.s. proposes
Mr.. Ladouceur, pleasantly. Surely
one should be pleasant after winning
s9-nine beautiful silver dollars!
You dare not protest, although
knowing the inevitable result. And
so the small, shrill voice of Mrs. La
douceur rises on the air, penetrates
the ceiling and knocks upon the little
rosy ears of your pretty babes, who
! waken with a start to scream Justify