Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1906-08-10
In the Smart
Little Trap
BY VIRGINIA LEILA VENT


trap you ever saw, Madge! It's cham
payne colored and a perfect love.
What do you bet don't land him, trap
and all, before the summers flown by?"
Miss Irene Warden, a beauty (and
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 archway
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 which
the bachelor and his champagne col
ored trap had just flown by.
Although I've told you his name is
Horace Matlock," ran on Miss War
denis pen, II haven't told you what be
looks ike. He's an old man, forty or
fifty, should say. His nose is rather
too big, although people call him hand
some, and he's a bit bald, but then,
suppose most men who live IN big
houses and drive smart traps have big
noses. What9' 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
college songs so beautifully, but, as
you know, he hasn't red! And real
" must do something this summer,
Madge. Ny already meager allowance
will be cut considerably In the autumn,
for in September pas going to enter
the matrimonial game himseff-a hor-
rid, designing widow too! So must
step lively in the parlance Of street
car officials.
Elm point of fact, though" pursued
the voluble pen, It'll be pretty easy,
plain sailing. haven't single good
looking rival up in this out Of the way
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-well, Madge, you and
/ spend as much on our gloves and
wells, ! reckon, as she does on her
whole outfit. That's what comes from
having a bookworm for father"
The next week in the little village
postof1ce a friend presented Mr.. Hor-
ace Matlock to Miss Irene Warden.
Apparently the meeting was by acct
dent, but Miss Warden felt her smooth
cheeks flush, and her habitual COM
posure was rippled for a second, while,
for his part, Mr.. Matlock scarcely look
ed at her and, having passed a con-
ventional "glad to meet you" lifted his
smart little trap.
81 had on my chic wolfe, 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 stopped. gaunt figure
with 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 entered
Yale as freshman Thornton had been
tutoring, and quite friendship had
sprung up between them. Subsequent.
ly 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 and
worn and aged he's becomer thought
Matlock as he drove the professor
home to his modest little cottage.
Out in the cottages side yard by the
hollyhocks q 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 blossoming vines
and wondered. Who was the distin
guished looking stranger? And where
had he picked up dear daddy?
A few days later Matlock drove up t.
the cottage again. 1t was only decent
he told himself, that he should show
the professor some attention and take
him driving now and then. Perhaps
some day also he would take the pro
fessors daughter. He liked her. HI
liked the natural, unabashed way II
which she bad acknowledged her ia
TIERS presentation of him, with hel
sleeves rolled up and her arms full o.
sweet peas; he liked the width between
her eyes, the breadth of her brow, tn,
lines Of her noun. She was less pref
ty than many young girls, but ther,
was about her freshness, sweet
ness, that pleased him, and he had no
ticed that her figure in her simple lit
tie gown was we'll nodded and slim.
One evening toward twilight, wher
ont In the open lawn bats were whirI
ing aimlessly and tirelessly, 'Matlocl
GsQRped In upon the professor to max
9h&aSttt1s call. He had fetched hin
hG aftsfi6on mail as p.s}ext. wlhl'
they we've sitting out on fEenorch from
the s@aowy little parlor came rb'
INST chords of Beethoven's beautiful
',Mbonrsht Sonata"