The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1906-01-12
# f. EMININE,
CURIOSITY
A HONEYMOON CONVERSATION
BY HELEN ROWLAND

w scattered papers, pipes, pens, tobae
90 and fishing tackle, "that I.requestef
you-not to touch my desk!"
And i thought" replied Polly, tidt
ing her nose indifferently "that Blue
beard ws only a myth"
groaned.
even fancied," she went on, care
1ully sorting out handful of tobacco
tags and slowing them safely in the
drawer devoted to my most valuable
papers, that he was exceedingly in
human and unnatural but now l have
discovered that he was perfectly hui
man and perfectly natural" and she
de1gned to turn and take me in, from
Rdhe tips of my riding boots to the top
eof my head, with glance that plain
'4y compared me to the ancient tyrant.
"Bluebeard," remarked hanging up
my crop and helplessly sinking into
the Morris chair would have been
an ideal husband, if Fatima's curiosity
had not driven him to the verge of
murder"
Polly tossed her chin and lindustri-
fously flung the deed to our house and
all my insurance receipts into the
trash=baskeT at her side, from which
II surreptitiously rescued them
~''He was" continued 4entirely too
yaenient."
Too-what!" Polly stopped her
srummaging to gaze at me.
He gave Fatima the key to his Sc
ecret closet" l declared.
E'Well," rejoined Polly, resuming her
work, didn't you give me the keys
to your desk2"
mot all of them,".I assured her.
leaning back to watch the effect of
my announcement upon the small per-
son at my feet mot the one to the
little drawer where keep my private
II mean my personal"
"sO-o-oh," breathed Polly. II won
Gered where that key was. But "A
never even dreamed. you had kept it
from me-purposely!" and the re-
rroach in her eyes would have stung "a
harder man than'I.
There was silence for a moment and
qthen l cleared my throat.
Hmm! Blueebard," continued, "in
tBpite of his varied matrimonial expert
,ences did not understand women.
He"
+Nonsense!fl !flaughed Polly. @No man
ever understood drwomen-except per-
..haps Solomon"
Solomon" Issighed, digging my ia
syorite pipe sout of pile of rubbish
;and rescuing my tobacco from the
trash basket, was a happy oriental.
Not one of his wives would have dared
step a foot into his private apartments,
much less rummage about his blue
sbeard's closet
"Or his desk" giggled Polly.
"Or his pipes"
@"Or his pride and self-esteem!"
~s'No, nor attempt to lay his tender
sest memories and darkest secrets bare
to the light"
Polly torernp an old dinner card With
AN energy worthy of better cause.
$50 there are secrets, and scalps and
ecorpses in your desk?" she exclaimed.
81 didn't say So" replied evasively,
sand if there are," I continued i'm
'pressively, why shouldn't you leave
them there? Secrets, Polly, are like
sleeping dogs, best left lying. Curios-
ity is the great feminine crime, the in
,herited curse ofswoman, which has de-
.ecended straight down from Eve. One
would have thought, after that scrape
YOU got us into In the Garden OF Eden,
that you would have learned lesson.
But you are tall Ewes and Pandoras
and Fatimas There isn't door nor
"a closet that is sacred from you. Now
"a man is never curious"
"Pooh," said Polly, eof course man
ss not curious. Why should he be.
when women tell him everything? He
has nothing TO be curious about. You
never heard of wife with a Blue
boards closet, did you? 1t is always
4the men who have them. They carry
their secrets about with them as
uroudIy as they would decoration. or
"A medal. They have even been known
ito take them to the grave. A woman
couldn't do such'a thing"
mo indeed" I agreed, cheerfilly.
.ssIf she happened to die with one on
rher soul she would be sure to drop 1t
.on the way to the burying ground"
"And as long as men continue TO
tnave Biuebeard's Closets pursued
1Polly ignoring me, women will con-
sttnue to pry into them That is the
.oenalty of keeping your tender mem
snries and your scalps lying about"
,and she resumed her rummaging with
..r air of having settled the question.