The Olneyville times. (Olneyville [Providence, R.I.]) 1887-1917, 1907-01-18
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! -Ilt NdS oHiN Sdulc = IOHC lelI want,
a man Of little or no individualism,
! cast iron in manner, to be broken
! but not bent, but with just enough,
/ for her purpose, of the sentiment,
! peculiar TO young nations, that enters
more or less into American charac-
| ter.
'He is totally ignorant of bridge
thinks gambling sinful, abhors rae
ing, and is odiously polite" she con-
/ fded with heaying bosom into her
Doctors cold, calculating ear" "He
calls her a Jesuit in disguise and
/ chuckles. He says he comes from
/ Montana. appalled-"he must
/ be an Englishman,"
Grim-teatured Falcon, whom she
had trained TO stand on his hind
! legs a la DR.. Johnson's dog. gave
her complete satisfaction. Mystery
/ stalked a-tiptoe, "Shade Of Boccac-
, clio, we are burning expensive in
! cense," and 50 it was plotted.
In the midst Of his petty hustlings
rushing in, rushing out, between
! intervals of browsing" in his lib
rary; sudden gusts OF passion that
| compelled him to dance attoEf.roe
up 10 the very doors Of society, there
TO hand Mrs. Biggerslake out ot
the al omobile, bow, twiddle his
mustacHes. and betake himself Oft;
| moon-strUcG periods during which
he gaped liE" the mouth of Hades.
! swallowing his w.ie's little sins Of
omission and C3.nmission that came
flying in his face from all directions
- Caesars wife," he whispered TO
HIMSELF in the midst of all this,
with hints and warnings thrown
clean over his head by well-meaning
enemies, and muddy insinuations
cast by friends falling from his un-
stained heart, Cyrus Biggerslake,
running out of his library one sum-
mer's day, bubbling over with i'm
portance, fell plump against Death
! and Tragedy in a grim procession
passing through the hall.
Picture the poor little man, with
arms flung alott and blanched face,
wobblinS note Of Interrogation!
DR.. Falcon, pale and bloody, tread
ing by the styetcher, Gazed solemnly
at him, finger 10 lip. Friends and
servants held him back, 10 hold him
up minute later, when the conclu-
sive word fitting on breathless
wings from tongue TO tongue, fut-
tered at last within his ear and
sucked his senses from him.
Judge then OF the stir among the
brethren of the pen when one blaz-
ing October forenoon Cyrus Biggers-
lake whirled down Market street in
his automobile like a tornado. urg-
ing his mahout 10 slay and spare not
the already outraged speed regula-
ton, and with waving arms and
specimen oaths from Montana, dart
ed under the brandished police
batons, and turned the corner into
Montgomery street on two wheels.
The fraternity resurrecting the';
features from foaming schooners,
real or imaginary, streaming in
frantic pursuit, found the chariot
indeed-the mahout painting expla-
nations TO tie scandalized majesty
OF law-but within the building,
whittier he had fed, an elevator boy.
scared by his frantic appearance,
shot their object skyward like a
rocket from their upturned eyes and
lolling tongues.
Elijah leaves us his mantle"
quoth a brother, diving onto an en-
velope addressed 10 Biggerslake in
feminine hand. The pack pricked
ears and surged But excitedly torn
apart the envelope was found TO con
tain-nothing.
Silas Moran, chewing a choice
Trinidad over the mornings mail,
nearly bolted it whole al his friend s
cyclonic advent. Sinking into a
I.added elbow chair in the lawyers
sanctum, Cyrus could only toss his
hands and jerk about: MY wife
my wife," pufing noisily. Moran
recovered himself. discarded the ci-
gar, and waited in curious patience.
Yes, my dear old friend" he said
at last soothingly, the loss Of your
good wife must be terrible grief
20 you, but
Good wife" shrieked Cyrus. sud
denly recovering his breath. Good
wife indeed, She's not dead, Silas
The whole thing was a put-up job.
She's gone of with Falcon. Jeers
at me from Los Angeles
His voice broke into a scream, and
he threw his limbs ABOUT like a rude
ly handled jointed doll.
Keep quiet, BE calm," deto-
mated Moran in the voice that has