The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1906-05-18
TIE EVENING Story
In the snlart LittIe Lar.
IBy virginla Leila WENT. )

And he has the smart
est looking trap you ever saw. Madgei
It's ampagne-colored and perfect
love. What do you bet don't land
him, trap and all, before the summers
flown by2" ----~-s.s.------sss*
Miss irene Warden, a beauty land
aware of it!) was writing to her girl
chum concerning the bachelor who
had just taken the big Colonial house
with the carriage road and iron arch
way, which, for several seasons now
had abandoned hope OF usefulness.
She was writing by an open window
where the scent of the roses came up
from the front garden. Beyond lay
the pretty tree-lined road over when
the bachelor and his cham pagne-col-
ored trap had just flown by.
Although I've told you mis- name IS
Mr. Horace Matlock, ran on Miss War
den's pen, ~ haven't told you what he
looks like. Hes an old man. forty or
fifty, should say. His nose is rather.
too big-although people call him
handsome-and he's a bit bald; but
then, 1 suppose most men who live in
big houses and drive smart traps have
big noses. What n Miss Warden
smiled little soft smile into the glass
above her dressing table, and then bent
over her portfolio again:
''Of course, i d prefer dear old Tom.
He's young and stunning and sings COL
lege songs so beautifully; but, as you
=
must do something this summer,
Madge. My already meager allowance
Will be cut considerably in the autumn,
for in September pas going to enter
the matrimonial game himself -hor-
rid, designing widow. too. So I must
step lively, in the parlance of street
car officials.
In point of fact. though pursued
the voIuble pen, It'll be pretty easy.
plain sailing. l haven't a single good
lnnlrincr rival 11T in this fri q
place, except old Professor Thornton s
daughter, and she's the quietest poke
of a girl-a regular stay-at-home. And
as for dressing Madge, you and
wells 1 reckon, as she does on her whole
outfit. That's what comes from hav-
ing bookworm for a father"
The next week. in the little village
postofiice, a friend presented Mr.. Hor-'
ace MatIock to Miss Irene Warden
Apparently the meeting was by acct
dent; but Miss Warden felt her smooth
cheeks flush. and her habitual com
posture was rippled for a second. While
for his part Mr.. Matlock. scarcely look
ed at her and having passed conven-
tional glad to meet YOU lifted his
hat politely and walked out to his
smart little trap
Il had on my chic voile=the one
Aunt Tessie sent me. from Paris, you
know" wrote Miss Warden to Madge,
land my big white hat with Hopping
fuchsias. But it was all rank waste!''
She couldn't understand it; her
dreams hadn't ended that way at all
One day in the tiny, idle little bank,
Mr.. Horace Matlock stopped short. as
he recognized a stopped, gaunt figure
with a patrician face.
why. it's Professor Thornton, isn't
it?' he cried. stepping up to him with
a cordially. Outstretched hand.
When Matlock, years ago, had en-
tered Yale as a freshman, Thornton
had been tutoring, and quite a friend-
ship had sprung up between Them
Subsequently they had lost track of
each other. But the satisfaction of the
younger man in meeting the older one
again was genuine.
Poor old professor, how thin ana
worn and aged he's becomei" thought
Matlock as he drove the professor
home to his modest little cottage.
Out in the cottages side yard by the
hollyhocks. a girl was picking a great
bunch of sweet peas for the lunch
table. When she heard the smart lit
tie trap stop at the gate, she looked
quickly up from the blossomirg vines
and wondered. Who has the distin-
guished looking stranger? And where
had he picked up dear Daddy?
A few days later Matloek drove UP
to the cottage again 1t was only de-
cent he told himself, that he should
show the professor some attention and
take him driving now and then. Per
haps some day, also, he would take the
professors daughter. He liked her. He
liked the natural unahashed way in
which she had acknowledged her
fathers presentation of him. with her
sleeves rolled up and her arms full of
.weet peas; he liked the width between
her eyes, the breadth of her brow,
the lines of her mouth. She was less
pretty than many young girls; but there
was about her a freshness, a sweetness,
that pleased him. And he had noticed
that her figure in her simple little
gown was well moulded and slim.
One evening toward twilight, when
out in the open lawn, bats We're Whirl-
ing aimlessly and. tirelessly, Matlock
dropped in upon the professor to make
him a little call. He had fetched him
his afternoon mail as pretext- While
they were sitting out on the porch from
the sha dowy little parlor came the
first chords of Beethoven's beautiful
Moonlight Sonata.
Thornton in answer to his guests start
of surprise. She's never too tired, no
matter how hard or long the day has
been to play that sonata for me IN the
evening / love It above all other writ
ten music-and she never forgets-3
Then. while the tree toads droned
their harmonies, he told Matlock a lit
tie about his daughter@how four years
ago he had suffered paralytic stroke,
and she had been obliged to leave
school in her graduating year and
nurse him night and day with untiring
sweetness: how, when their slender in
come was exhausted year back, she
had begun to make use of her musical
skill and give lessons on the piano.
And when the professor told of
sCynthfa's tri-weekly trips to Adams.
the nearest town. his silvered head
went down on his coat sleeve. And in
the cleaning. behind the honeysuckles,
two men were silent.
Presently they smoked their usual
cigars and INDUCED in their usual con
ersation=newspape topics chopped
fine by individual opinion; a. good deal
of politics; a little OF art and science.
Last of all Cynthia came out
Delighted" she said. going prettily
UP to Matlock with outstretched hands.
'sWhile you two have been gossiping.
I've been remembering your weakness