Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1909-01-15
EARLY VICTORIAN.
That Is your last word %

| "Emphatically" His eyes avoided the
pretty flushed face Of his wife and
swept the wide drawing room with an
apprising glance. What more do you
want p
He threw his hands out with a pom
derous gesture that somehow fitted his
stolid British presence as finely as the
light shrug of the shoulder fits the
Frenchman. and his face hardened into
obstinate lines
| But she said nothing in return.
Stung by her pregnant silence, he
went on: Pm plain city man, with
no pretensions What was good enough
in my fathers time is good enough for
me- / don't hold with the present ride
uous fashion in houses. It's simply an
excuse for squandering money. My par
ents lived here and chose the furniture,
and it's all good of its kind-Early Vic
torian, if you like, but solid end hand
some-far better =" He checked
himself with an effort under the sudden
| temptation to allude to the poverty from
which he had rescued his bride but two
years since, and went on hurriedly, with
heightened color: Its no good, Iris,
you'll have to make it dot"
But she guessed the trend of the SEN
tence so clumsily suppressed, and her
eyes narrowed with annoyance as, fol-
lowing his gaze, they rested on a por-
trait on the farther WALL that of port
ly lady in lavender silk dress, with
smoothly parted hair drawn over her
ears and bearing the insignia of her
Office, a massive silver chatelaine, which
the artist had infinitely reproduced in
detail, perhaps in utter hopelessness over
the hard middle class face
Yet, for all that, certain look of
pride crept into her sons eyes as he
gazed up at the-so-ealled !-'Swork of
art
"If YOU follow her" he said with
nod, "you won't 90 far wrong! And
now | rndst be off"
With third OF the money she now
could claim what a life could have been
hers in the little nat by the busy gate
what treasures of art, what feasts of
intellect For now she had the means,
she lacked the environment.
She thought with shudder of the
formal dinners" their present style of
entertainment invariably took. and, al
though she loved her husband. she re-
belled in the depths of her bohemian
heart at the life she had voluntarily
and even thankfully stepped into
But in those days it had meant com
fort not only for herself, but for the
practically dying mother, and the peace
full assurance to the latter of the safety
of her child after she herself had passed
through the dark valley.
1t had been all for the best
She pulled herself together with an
effort of courage as her mind ran back
to her mothers death.
After the first shock of her grief she
had given herself up to improving the
| gloomy Bloomsbury mansion; picking up
quaint, inexpensive old chairs, discard
ing the heavier ones, adding bright, ar
tistic chintzes, and consigning the elm
possible curtains to the depths of the
| lumber room.
| All so quietly and inobtrusivelv that
| her husband from his pinnacle on the
rock of conservatism had hardly real
| lied the change until this eventful day.
Then, through the stupidity of a shop,
man, fine old dresser had arrived at
the precise moment when Cecil Arm
strong was leaving for a weeks fishing
in the north. Explanations had been
preeipitated, and the veto had gone forth
| Anyhow she had a treasure of a cook
that weapon in the hands of a wife!-
and she wondered, with a little smile of
amusement, what the prim figure with
the chatelaine would say to the modern
cuisine
"EXtravagant kickshaws, ] expect" she
said TO herself, and, as if in answer to
her thought, an idea flashed into her
mind comedy of revenge against that
debatable Family taste" SO complete
and alluring that her laugh rang out in
the somber room.
1t was pouring wet evening when
| Cecil Armstrong returned to town The
weather for the last few days had been
unsettled, the fishing bad, and the first
novelty of ''roughing it" had given way
to steadily growing disgust at the dis
comfort OF perpetually wet clothes and
smoky fires.
He leaned back in the hanson and
gave sigh of relief as, crossing Oxford
street, they turned up into Bloomsbury
and he pictured to himself the discreet
| welcome of Robert, the comfort of the
brightly lit house, and the well-cooked
dinner with his pretty young wife.
She was standing Just outside the
drawing room door-not in the pretty
evening dress he had somehow antici-
pated, hut very straight and slim in
plain gray silk, devoid of ornament. and
| from her waist there hung his mothers
chatelaine
Unobservant by nature. he vet felt
there was something instinctively wrong
about her hair. and, although she greet.
ed him atfectionately. a little chill crept
into the subtle sense OF homecoming.
All the hundred-and- one little improve
ments-the scattered embroideries and
masses of plants and carelessly arranged
tioweTs--were missing, The old heavily
framed prints Were back on the dull
gray walls, and, albeit the night was
chilly. no fire burned in the CRATE. where
a painted screen was balanced. with an
impossible waterfall that Threatened TO