The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1910-12-21

herself swept of the piano stool and installed
where, on the rounded arm OF a big easy chair,
she had little more liberty OF movement than
that of swinging her feet naughtily and rebel
lously, while her husband questioned her.
what book were you reading 80 intently
this afternoon when I came upon you In the
corridor? Let me see 1T"
"shant!" "a time). "Oh, you cowardl Be-
cause you are strong! I shall go TOTO"
"Where? To whom?" said Harry, easily.
ITO my-to Aunt Iaetitia-"
"She wouldn't have you, child" laughed her
husband, "apd besides, she would charge you
~board-which I should have to payl"
well, I would pay 1t out Of my own mon
ey-there!"
What own money!"
MY house money!"
you forget, Mrs. Morris-Moore," said her
husband, gravely, III you run away you
wouldn't have any house money!"
Then In a burst, as he shook her, "oh' you
great baby" he cried, make up. Bring the
book! It was a volume Of your diary. l knew
by the lock. I'll show you mine. Fair e1'
change! or with you'll"
well, come with me, then" said Clara,
holding out her hand, 'but don't you think I'm
giving in. It's only yielding to brute force. My
spirit Is unconquered."
Never mind your spirit" said her lord.
fetch the book!"
And in these books, the greater and the
lesser, they read late into the night.
And this was what they found.
"'Christmas eve'"- said Clara, begin
there!"
And she paused, waiting. with her finger
in its place.
~, o. ~ $50 -. NY Ia.t& Shtpb fhopo
Is much!"
"And you call yourself a writer!"
well, shall 1 begin?" Clara was all on
pins and needles now. She could hardly keep
still. The quarrel was forgotten.
"'Christmas eve (she read). "A dull day
Paid calls in the lane-Went to Margaret's.
Baby is adorable and Tom begins to love me
and calls me Aunty dee-ar. Came home by
Grants and brought back fruit for dinner.
There is a man coming. a friend of fathers.
It is a horrid nuisance"
Here Clara Moore broke of suddenly.
"Oh, I wrote everything fresh, you see. I
wanted to remember. You've no idea how bad
my memory used to be In those days. Being
married helps. One has to remember ones
husbands iniQuities."
"fset in a notebook, learned and conned by
rote,' murmured Harry.
HIS wife stopped ana IooKeo seSerelJ al
him.
well" she seid, 81 did write a lot, I know,
and yours Is no fair exchange. l did 1t partly
as an exercise, you see, for I was considered
very good at composition at school, whatever
you may think. Besides, I don't believe you
have anything Ia that book at ALL"
ooh, yes-I have!" and he fourished a
closely written page of memoranda before her
eyes.
We'll" she said, with a sigh (and her eyes
were dim and ~distant), 'I will read-though I
never thought to let anyone see-not even you.
But since you have been so horrid to me. l
will"
It seemed an odd reason, but Harry wisely
fully. where shall I go on? ?" she asked, knit
ting her brows.
"You did begin from the beginning" he
smiled as he spoke, why not continue?"
She glanced up with sudden shyness, almost
as he spoke, why not continue?"
She glanced up with sudden shyness, al.
most like a surprised Eve.
"You were saying that 1t was a horrid null
sance, having me come to dinner" said Harry
Moore, did you change your mind?"
Here 1t U.s." said his wife, running her eye
down the columns of close-knit writing. "11:0O
D. M. He Is gone. It was not SO horrid after
all. But I think he likes Edith best. He Is
big and badly dressed. Why can't writer's and
artistic people dress humanity? He had on the
funniest tie l ever saw, and a beard, and he
came in a big gray cloak like one Of Mlllet's
shepherds. But he ~talked-yes, 1t was worth