The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1906-10-19
THE EVENING STORY
1IoIIie's AIinistration.

matches and cigarettes. Here with
these alone for light and stimulant, ne
meant to stay till the Great idea itself
was clear before him
Presently the portieres parted. Peter.
the old family butler, stood in the
doorway. He gazed fieetingly at his
young master. whose head had dropped
into his hands.
TITS girl, Mister Morris he said.
Nothing Of the sort, Peter, retorted
Feltus inculgently, lighting another
cigarette It's new picture coming
that's ALL
ITS a girl Mister Morris. down
stairs, Peter said graveIy. That's
what the nurse tells me-
Feltus2''
Doing ane, sir. Anything can get
Scotch and settler. Peter; Scotch and
But when the good old butler had
vanished F'eltus' brows went together
"A girlEby Jove! what do I want
He was suddenly conscious that at
some time or other he had entertained
visions Of a boy, who should be his son
and heir-a strong, sturdy little fellow,
born into the world with the power to
whistle and white fuIl-fiedged But
girl!
Thus was MoIIie's advent into this
sublunary sphere greeted by her Ia
Their. Little by little, however, she
won her way straight into his heart.
From the day, when, bending over a
fluff of perturbed lace, a tiny pink fist
had been thrust up, by chance caress-
Ing his face, and he had laid it against
his nps-from that day had dated Mol
| lies witchery over her sire.
Daddy" was the name Mrs. Feltus
had taught the child to call him; but,
! baby fashion, she had twisted it into
sTaddy." This title always fetched
F'eltus an exquisite pleasure, such as
could have scarcely have come to him
had he been dubbed an r. A.
At first it seemed that Mollie would
bring them together again-these two
young people who, in their married life
OF less than a score Of months, had
drifted so far apart
Isn't that pretty2 and how devoted
they are. not only to the child, but to
each Otheri''
This was whispered aside from one
of the Feltus aunts to another. They
happened to be calling on the proud
parents when Feltus had been hastily
summoned away, and we're privileged
in witnessing that pretty little domestic
act commonly called a tumble kiss.
But the happy domesticity was all in
the seeming. Further and further they
drifted apart-tWo warning tempera-
meuts; he with his warm, impulsive
nature; she with her cold, jewel eyed
aloofnesS. She had her white ambi-
tons, her mobile fats on the possibili-
ties of woman's destiny; he had his
artists work and the habit of devotion
! to It.
At last it became intolerable and the
storm broke.
There was one unforgettable morn
| ing stamped upon Mollie's memory.
With q gay little chuckle she had flown
off from the vigilance Of her nurse,
holding her nightgown from her feet,
and was about to burst into Taddy's
studio to kiss him good morning, when
/ strange, angry tones in torrent Of
unintelligible words reached her from
= -
voice. Mothers voice was always low
and slow and even This nteman's
voice was none OF those things. But,
/ by and by, mother herself came out.
clutch her skirt as she passed, but
withdrew it. afraid. Mothers head
was held so high; she walked like the
1 angry princess in the fairy book, and
there was a bright red spot on either
cheek.
All was still in the studio. so the
child ran in. Feltus was pacing up
and down in his velvet knickerbookers
and smoking jacket, his hand behind
''Taddy!" Mollie cried gleefully. II
dot away from nurse. I did! tum to
tfss you"
As the baby arms clasped him.
Feltus sank into a chair and she
climbed to his breast. There was a
stiffness, except for the mans hard,
tremulous breaths, as he held her
closely to him.
On an easel at one end of the room
was a canvas in the making. Even in
its rough state. one could see that it
possessed power and Insight. It show
ed a girl, a sumptuous, Oriental Great
ure, swathed in gauzy draperies, re-
Ginning on couch. With half-closed,
sensuous eyes and Turing langour she
contemplated a JeweIed chain which
she held I'D in one hand Painted
above the canvas was the title: 1.-The
Snare of the Senses"
'She didn't get the idea, Mollie,
F'eltus said brokenly at last. looking at
his picture. Tar over the child's sunny
head. She thOught-good Lordi She
thought it was the flesh I meant; she
couldn't see it was the jeWeIed chain.''
1t was true. This was g. painting
which required pre- minently g sub
jective Interpretation; yet Evelyn Fell
tus with her restricted insight had
read it objectively-as she did every
thing else in life-and had whipped
herself into an impotenf fury. She
couldn't see that it was the jeWeled
chain which was sharing the Woman's
senses the sort Of thing that always
Evelyn, the woman herself was a snare
and the flashing jewels only a part
of her
Over and over, in the months that
followed, Feltus traversed the wretch
ed scene in the studio which had led
to their separation. It had been
blow on naked nerves. The woman
there, walking up and down the room
reproaching him, seemed not to be
Evelyn, his wife, she was a cruel, i'm
peri0us changeling. One thing had
fixed itself upon his mind Immediately.
To accomplish any work whatever he
must go away. Italy7 Oh, no! In
his present condition he needed an en-
vironment that should serve as a tonic
rather than weaken with emotional
excitement Norway or Scotland; But
they were so far from MoIIfei The
dear old Canadian woods it should be
the place where as boy he had
been wont to spend his summers.
Now that he had been there for many
months, one memory in his parting from