Los Angeles herald., 1906-06-03
Jim Rice's Wife -

have this house painted, I'd like to see you git
me to have it done"
oh, you'd like to-" Prue smiled. "yyell. az ia
my object in life to please you, III do my best"
women folks seem to think it's 40 all-fred easy
10 make money" Jim growled, as he went out
OF me door. You'd better try it once and see
what it's like" he called back over his shoulder
"If only COULD prue r1lminated. as she NOV.
ed briskly about the kitchen. Seems il Id
oughter be able to think up somethin' I've cot
az, III, day TO do it in. Jim's gone to South Dane.
vile and won't be back till late this afternoon,
so ! shant have any dinner to eet"
She was busy with her household duties for
the next two hours and when she at last put
on her pink sunbonnet and started down the
road in the direction of old Mrs Rioe's house
no plan had yet occurred to her. She walked
tnoughttuly, with her mind still intent on the
disputed question.
81 won't give it up she said. half aloud. "T
viii think of somethin', il" She stopped sud.
denly, and her whole face Frightened; then she
gave delighted laugh and flew across the road.
In the shade of tall elm sat man. tanning
himself with battered straw hat Beside him
stood bucket Of paint with brush sticking out
of it.
Mrs Rice, her brown eyes dancing with tri-
umph, entered into animated conversation
with the stranger, and presently the two dis
appeared up the road side by side
When James Rice drove into Daneville at sun.
set that day, he was hailed from doorway by
Deacon Gibbs. The deacon's round little face was
shining with merriment.
Say. Jim he began. stroking his beard to
hide the convulsve twitchings of his lips "you
on yer way home? Wall, you've no idee how
poplar the turnpike roads been today Kind of
promenade for the hull town"
That's so; it's been a real red letter day up
ter your domice,' drawed Mr. Barnes. com
ing out of the store to join in the conversation
The by-standers, who had gathered about Jims
buggy, broke into loud laughter.
ITS a real comfort to see a man willin' To air
his convictions like Jim does,' observed one
man, admiringly.
Jim gathered up his reinswith an angry frown
"G You're passe of FOOLS and 7 don't know
what you're drivin' at" he retorted touching the
mare with his whip.
"You mean you don't know what you're drivin'
to, shouted Mr. Barnes. after the retreating bug.
gy.
Jim drove hurriedy until/the village was left
behind and the jeers of his tormentors died
away in the distance; then he allowed the brown
mare to drop into easy trot.
I'll be iggered if | know what those fools
meant he rlminated. cts some Joke on me-
that's sartin, but why the whole town should
be in it / can't for the life of me If it's any
-Go-ri!"
The mare had stopped at the hitching-post in
front of his house, but her master sat motioness
in the buggy. Once he closed his eyes, as if to
dispel the illusion, only to open them and find
that the hideous vision had not disappeared.
In gigantic red capitals, sprawling all over the
front of the house, were painted the words
"LASHMAN'S RUM is THE BEST"
They were crazy-looking letters sloping in
every direction, and they gave the respectable
old house tipsy appearance. There was scarcely
a spot on its dingy clapboards where their gro
tesque length did not extend. A deep color slow
ly appeared in Jm's face, and he sprang to the
ground. Suddenly chord was struck on the
piano within, and from the parlor foated out
Prues sivery voice: -
"The prettiest girl in the State of Maine
Was Squire's Joness darter."
Jim thrust both hands into his pockets and
drew long breath "Beaten!" he acknowledged
aloud.