Daily Arizona silver belt., 1909-12-25
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Mrs. Allenby Carter kept what is known as fashionable boarding house on Madison avenue. Like many other women who take bOarders, she possess el a husband who was, report had it, an incompetent, forsaken mortal, living -0mewhere on the top floor, wrapped in
 nvstery and, no doubt, heavy blankets. Mrs. Allenby Carter s patrician manner md appearance-she always wore her
 hundant white hair piled high on her ,plendid head-did not save her from the tragedy of a husband. But no one knew of his existence save the servants md Oliver Richard Hawkins, who had been with the Allenby Carters," as .c liked to phrase it, for nineteen years, md was really an old family friend.
 Nr Hawkins could remember the r.me when his landlady's hair was hrown and glossy, and when pink was ner color. He could have told you of rhe days when-Old Carter not being in rhe least feeble minded--there was great happiness and some little money for them all. For Oliver Hawkins had snOwn the Alenby Carters intimately Iong before the bleak hour that brought he old mans complete loss of fortune md partial loss of mind. Poor Thomas! Ever since the crash came he had been unable to do much except admire his wife'S Coiffure and her few remaining .ewels. and, strange as it may seem. play a remarkably good game of check oTS with Oliver every evening. And his the two men had done all these years, with the precision that often becomes an important part of old age.
 Oliver Hawkins was very privi- Ieged person at No. 5S. It was as though The house were his own hOme-aS in- deed it was-and he came and went as he wished. His room adjoined Thom, as's on the top floor. and frequently over the transom he and the old man would converse while he was dressing for dinner; for everyone at Mrs Allen by Carter dressed each evening" It was a part of the established smart ness there.
 On a particular evening in May, one of those warm spring nights that so often come in New York, Oliver was dressing with his usual care, and the door that led from his into Thomas s room was wide open. The windows near it were up, and vague noises from the street.-the sound of a hurdy-gurdy and the far cry of children's voices, betokening the approach of summer could be heard.
 1T II be going away soon, Thomas was saying. "Martha told me so to- day. Is it June yet?"
 No; only the eighteenth of May, but it seems just like summer,' Oliver replied. ''I never saw the flowers so far ahead in the park. But then spring came early this year." Oliver loved 10 talk.
 ''Im be glad to get away" Thomas went on. "The city grates on me the minute it begins to get warm. You know we never used to stay m after the first of May, Oliver. You remember, don't you? Martha was always so par ticular about getting out of the city. She g going to send me alone this year, until she can join me later on. She $ awfully good to me, isn t she, Oliver2"
 You bet she is, ," agreed Oliver. He had finished his toilet and stepped out through the door that divided their rooms, a paragon of neatness. He look 1 ed at Thomas, who was seated near the | window, arranging with great delibera- 1 ton the checkers on the board. Even l 20 early as this he prepared for their | ovening game.
 As Oliver left the room a maid was coming up the stairs with Thomas s | dinner on a tray, and, looking back at his old friend, he saw him take from a drawer in the heavy oak secretary hehind him a little metal box and lift ! from it string of diamonds, which he 1 seemed to gaze at long and fondly. | Oliver had seen him do this very often; hut feeling of utter pity never failed | 10 come over him at the picture of this ! quiet old man who could not meet his | wIfe's "guests," as he chose to call | them, but day after day and night after night sat in his far room, caring only | about Martha s jewels-the one relic | ot their days of afhuence together