The Press., 1905-05-31
The Man and
 the Hour
By KEITH GORDON

on so for an indefinite time had it not
 been for the occurrence of the 3d oi
 June.
 New Years day is significant only
 because then. by common consent
 time moves up number. This partic
 ular June made an indelible impres
 sion on Elinor's mind because on that
 day she began to be thirty -two-begar
 at the very beginning, of course, but
 still she began.
 "'I shall say Pm thirty-one all this
 year anyway" she announced defiant ly to that other self that receives ouI dearest condolences. Its such bad form to say you're thirty-one years and
 two months old, or whatever it may
 happen to be- And if have to write il I'll make 1t thirty-one in round num-
 bers-not even thirty-one plus" All of
 which. as the reader can see, was very
 interruptions.
 However. as she found. by far the worst thing about beginning to be thir- ty-two was the fact that you couldn't forget it. The harder you tried the bet ter you remembered it.
 ''WelI. what if am?"
 This was the remark that our heroine slung into space when, after a week of torment. she sat down with her chin resting on her hands to have the thing out What If I am? So are plenty of other gir-women, I mean. Alice is thirty, Mary thirty-one, Mabel twenty eight
 She paused in her enumeration, struck by the thought that all these friends were married Matrimony was a sub ject to which she had given the mimi mum of thought She supposed she'd come to it some time, but she was in no hurry to enter that narrow pasture so long as there was pleasant browsing to be had outside.
 When she had thought of it at all it had seemed to mean chiefly a tiresome round of housekeeping that resulted in | three perpendicular lines just over the nose, a memorandum of worry that she secretly determined to avoid as long as possible. But now that she was be- ginning to be thirty-two the thing was different.
 Could it be, she asked herself. that she had made q mistake after all and that those three incisive lines were as much of an honor as an officers bars? Could it be that there was a point when one began to be thirty -two-for instance, when becomingness demand ed that one should lay aside Miss" just as it required that one should stop wearing pink!
 She faced her plight with a stiff up- per lip. realizing that she had no one but herself to blame. There had been a number of men-the mischievous dim pie at the corner of her mouth danced into sight for a second at the thought of how maHy-who had done their best to stop her in what she now recognized for the first time her mad career. She had declined their offers kindly, but with a certain royal carelessness that rocked not of possible dark hours to come. When did any woman born to the belief in the divine right of queens ever foresee dethronement? She had inadvertently "lived oyer," as she had once heard it quaintly phrased. There was no doubt about 1t, she was an old maid! She repeated it aloud in all it's brutal truth, scorning such euphemisms as ''spinster" and 'bachelor woman"
 You're an old maid-just a plain old maidr' she said audibly. But it sound ed like joke-like one of those things too bad to be true. She would proba-, bly, wake up after bit to find that she had been married since her eighteenth year and had a son ready to t@ter col lege and daughter about to make her debut
 No such happy awakening came, however, and with desperate philoso- phy she decided that since she was an old maid she would enter into the role for all it was worth. At least she would avoid the error of being kittenish.
 Little by little her plainest gowns were brought into requisition. Certain little graces and frivolities of the toilet were one by one abandoned. She timid ly asked Alice, her closest friend, to teach the children to call her ''auntie,'' a thing which she had hitherto forbid den under the penalty of a sudden death to the cherub that should first be guilty of it.
 What is the matter with you?" gasp ed Alice, with a stare of amazement. And what have you been doing with your hair, and why are you wearing that ugly old dress, with all the hand some things that you have?"
 'I'm just wearing the things suit able to my age before the dear friends nH, A1 me-" was the answer, and that night her friend confided to her husband, with thoughtful regret, that Elinor was becoming a regular old maid.
 Another of her friends and comrades, Max Anderson, also noticed the subtle change. Theirs had been a sort of brother and sister friendship of long standing. For years he had scolded and criticised and bullied her. The one thing that he hadn't done was to make love. and Elinor had long since given up trying to make him.
 Haven't you ever been in love, Max?' she had asked him once. with genuine curiosity in the gray eyes that had been more than one mans un. doing. A dull flush came up into his face, and he looked at her strangely.
 "1es," he answered shortly, ''I have"
 Beautiful night, isn't it?' he went on after a moment, and there was a touch of mockery in his voice that made the questioner wince. After that she asked him no more.
 What's upT' he demanded, survey ing her cynically as she came down to receive him one evening, with re- nunciation speaking from every line or her plain gown and her smooth, | parted hair. "Is 1t some sort of lay sackcloth and ashes? What particular | sin are you mourningp'
 'The great sin of omissionr' she an- swered demurely as they sat down op- posite each other. But he looked in- credulous. He had not known her if |