The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1906-08-16
In the Smart
Little Trap
Bv VIRGINIA LEILA WENIz
Copyright, 1906, by Homer Sprasue

| paSne cOlCreu anu peAleSI 1o'e'
What do you bet don't land him, trap
and all, before the summers flown by?'
Miss Irene Warden, a beauty (and
aware of iO, was writing to her girl
| chum concerning the bachelor who had
lust 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
den's pen, Il haven't told you what he
| looks like. 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 bit bald, but, then. !
suppose most men who live In big
houses and drive smart traps have big
noses. What?" 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. My already meagcr allowance
will be cut considerably in the autumn,
for in September pas going to enter
the matrimonial game himself-a nor
rid, designing widow too! So must
sstep lively in the parlance of street
car officials.
"In point Of fact, though" pursued
the voluble pen. "it'll be pretty easy.
plain sailing. I haven't a 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 sirl-a regular stay at home. And
az for dressing-well, Madge, you and
I spend as much on our gloves and
wells, I 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
postoffice a friend presented Mr.. Hor-
ace Matlock to Miss Irene Warden.
Apparently the meeting was by acci-
dent, but Miss Warden felt her smooth
cheeks flush, and her habitual COM
posure was rippled for second, while,
| for his part, Mr.. Matlock scarcely look
ed at her and. having passed con-
ventional "glad to meet you," lifted his
hat politely and walked out to his
smart little trap.
81 had on my chic voile, the one
Aunt Tessie sent me from Paris, you
know" wrote Miss Warden to Madge,
"and my big white hat with Topping
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 entered
| Yale as a freshman Thornton had been
tutoring, and quite a friendship had
sprung up between them. Subsequent
| " 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 become!" thought
Matlock as he drove the professor
home to his modest little cottage.
Out in the cottages side yard by the
hollyhocks 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 to
| 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-
| fessor's daughter. He liked her. He
liked the natural, unabashed way in
which she had acknowledged her ia
TIERS presentation Of him, with her
sleeves rolled up and her arms full Of
sweet peas; he liked the width between
her eyes, the breadth of her brow, the
lines Of her mouth. She was less pref
ty than many young girls, but there
was about her a 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, when
out in the open lawn bats were whirl-
ing aimlessly and tirelessly, Matlock
dropped in upon the professor to make
him little CALL He had fetched him
his afternoon mail as preteNt. While
they were sitting out on the porch from
the shadowy little parlor came the
| first chords of Beethoven'S beautiful