Los Angeles herald., 1906-03-11
AURENcE DUNBAR-coPY7iGHT By j. E. LPPINcoTT co

| Nathan blushed, but said, Il do know as it's
any use a-waitin'; ef things to be done, 1T
ought to be done an got through with.
I'll have to ask you, now, ef you realize what
desprit step you're a-takin'?"
I've thought it over prayerfully."
! Il don't want nothin' that | said in lightuess
of mind to Influence you. / do know as / take
sich things as serious as ought"
well, own UP you did start the idee in my
head, but I've thought it all over sence an made
up my mind fur myself, an amt to be turned
now, What ] want particlar to know now is,
whether it wouldn't be best to tell Lizzie-I mean
the widder-that I want her as a means Of morti-
| fication.'
| 'Well, no, Nathan, do know as I would do
that jest yit; I don't believe it 'u'd be best"
"But ef she don't know, wouldn't it be obtain
in her under false pertenses ef she said yes?'
mot exactly the way I look at it, fur you've
got more motives fur marryin' than one"
'What! Explain yoreself, Silas, explain yore-
self"
Il mean you want to do her good as well as
subdue yore own sperrit"
| "Oh yes, that's So"
Nov, no woman wants to know at first that
she's vexation to a mans sperrit 1t sounds
scrptural, but it don't sound nooptial. Now
look at me an Mis- Bollender. I never told her
intell we'd been married more'n six months. Fact
| is, it never occurred to me before. But she
didn't believe it then, an she won't believe it tell
this day She admits that she's my salvation,
but not in that way"
Silas chuckled, and his friend chewed straw
and thought long. Finally he said: 'FWell, III
agree not to tell her right away, but eff she
sents. must tell her week er so after we're
married. It'll ease my conscience. Eff I could
tell her now, it 'u'd be heap easier in gittin'
round to the question. I don't know jest how
to do it without"
| "Oh. you won't have no trouble in maxim her
understand. Matrimonys subjec' that women
air mighty keen on. They can see that mans
roppn' the question ef he only half tries. You'll
git through all right"
Somewhat strengthened, Nathan left his friend
and sought the widows house. He found her
stitching merrily away under the light of coal.
oil lamp with red shade. Even in his trepitla-
ton he found secret satisfaction in the red glow
that filed the room and glorifed the widows
brown hair.
"Ia, Nathan" said the widow when he was
seated who'd "a expected to you up here?
You've got to be sich home body that one
don't look to see you outside o yore own field
an garden"
'T jest thught I'd drop in," said Nathan.
''WelI, it's precious kind O. you, I'm shore.
was a-feelin' kind O. lonesome. The children go
to bed with the chickens"
For an instant there was picture in his mind
of lust such another evening as this, with the
children all in bed and the widow sitting across
from him or even beside him in another room
than this His heart throbbed, but the picture
vanished before his realization of the stern ne
cessity of saying something.
"I Jest thought I'd drop in, he said. Then his
face reddened as he remembered that he had said
that before But the widow was fully equal to
the occasion.
"Well, it does remind me of old times to see
YOU lest droppin' in informallike, this way. My,
how time does fy!''
at is like old times amt it? -.
Here they found common subject, and the
talk went on more easily, aided by story and
reniniscence When Nathan began to take .ac-
count of the time, he found with alarm that two
hours had passed without his getting any nearer
to his object. From then he attempted 70 talk
of one thing while thinking of another and failed