Los Angeles herald., 1910-06-05
Copyright by "shOrt Stories"

49, is seated IN the dining room, near me taDle'
upon which he casts despairing gances from time TO
time lie is holding his paper but 1t IS scarcely
probable that he is reading since for quite time
has been upside down, and he has not yet noticed MS
mistake.
Every few seconds the eyes of the preoccupied i'm
patient exmerchant have sought from beneath his
blue glasses the little cuckoo-clock of old oak, which
ticks on monotonously, without undue haste Then
he looks at the tureen where the soup is growing cod
but his expression softens the savory odors reach
him. The table is set for two persons, and two chairs
drawn up to it.
Evidently Mons Chapoulot expects some one-some
one who is making him wait, and between him and the
late Louis XIV this is the point of resemblance
neither likes to wait. With our hero, as with the
prelate of whom Boileau sang in Lutrin "a dinner
warmed over is worthless - Punctualty at meals is
his hobby-the worthy man has given up business but
his appetite remains He breakfasts at eleven, he
dimes at six, and these hours fall due he honors
them as he does his own signature. He fills ms
stomach with the same regularity that he formerly
employed in emptypg his cash box the fifteenth and
the end of each month.
Since five minutes to six the ex-merchant widower,
with one child has waited for his daughter; and as
the cuckoo marks halfpast, one may appreciate
the extent of his hunger.
Since Mons. Chapoulot' s withdrawal from business
that is to say the death of his esmabe wife,
who was at the same time clerk and partner, no
such calamity this has befalen his peaceful
household.
Not to have begun upon the dessert at halfp six
It is about to strike the half hour nowit is striking
it has struck. The two doors of the little rustic
clock open and the impertinent bird, shaking its
wings, sounds its cuckoo IN particularly lronc
tone.
For thirty-fve minutes excellent soup has been
spelling, little by little, and, worse than all, he does
not know what may be happening for good or ill., to
his beloved daughter Charlotte at this moment Cruel
anguish wherein the inquietude of the heart and the
pangs of thunder intermingle! Mons. Chapoulot has
never been so near understanding why some commit
suicide Almost beside himself his eyes wander over
the table, vaguely, among the knives, forks and
spoons, instrument wherewith to end his miser-
able existence.
At this moment Gertrude the old nurse family
cook, young ladys maid-in a word, veritable
female factotum-enters the dining room, grumbng,
and finds no dining. Mons. Chapoulot, whose
strength and patience have departed at the same in
slant lets fall his paper while his two hands at the
ends of his swinging ready to drop also.
'Well, monsieur?'' snaps out Gertrude.
''Well, Gertrude!' replies the unfortunate.
Shall take away the soup?'
''Do you think it worth WHILE GertrudeG Charlotte
will surely be here in an instant 1t is astonishing
that she has not already come. When did she leavet
and where did she go?'
''Mademoiselle left, usual, at four o clock for
her music lesson The lesson lasts hour. Allowing
half hour to go and long to return, mademoselle
should have been here, she is always is at six
O'clock
''And now it is thirtyfive minutes past"
"But the omnibus is frequently full -
GA plague the omnibuses. y
''Perhaps, the weather is fine, mademoselle has
taken a walk and will return home foot by way
of Rue de la Paix, and there many mlliners and
jewellers and pretty things to attract young person
along this route
"The deuce take the fashions, and the jewelry and
the girl herself, if she keeps waiting like this
should like to know what wishes to see after the
dinner hour has arrved One should have neither eyes
for anything ese.'
"Not to mention the lovers-the dandies that fol
low pretty passers by, to whisper to them a.
cob I seel Lovers indeedl You laughing at
me, Gertrude. Thank God Charlotte understands how
to send such rascas to the rightabout I am glad to
say that Charlotte has been brought up like Amer
lean girl
''Thcre is, perhaps, nothing in it, and may be
fool but how father have his daughter alone
through the streets, /"
Run! Run! In the of heavenl You know
the contrary Gertrude Charlotte