The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1910-01-29


question; and I am generally asked
to take the floor, because we have had
such queer experiences.
have time for only one more anec-
dote. but l must tell that. Summer be-
fore last mother got treasure OF
cook She could cook, she was re-
spectful and respectable, she didn't
break and she was honest, but
Well, her but" was that she would
not go to the mountains. Now we
take a furnished house in the noun
tains every summer, but we can't get
a servant up there and Nadjezda
(she's a Pole) could not be induced
to go. So we went without her, and
she lived in our city house on half
wages all summer long and cooked
for herself, while mother went to the
mountains and cooked for herself
Still, it was a sort of comfort to thinf
that somewhere we had a capable
cook cooking.
sometimes wish that some Of the
incapable ones could be cooking some
where.
IN some recent magazine stories the
i thing that counts seems to be not
so much what the people do and sa,
as where and how they say it.
Let us discover two characters II
the parlor and open the conversation
in this way:
Charles Darcy rose to his feet ant
gazed first at Marie and then at &
steel engraving.
Marie's eyes followed his and thei
went beyond and back of him to q
French mirror. 1t was at least min
ute before Charles spoke, and in that
time his hazel eyes travelled around
and took in seven chairs. the arm
chair, the sofa, the desk and the cur
tains.
Nor were her eyes idle, even though
she did not speak. She looked at the
handsome Turkish rug, at the cart
ridge paper on the wall--it was rob
in's-egg blue-at the chandelier and
then at him.
81 don't know what to say" said
he at last, casting his eyes upon the
Japanese rug.
"Why have you called. them" said
she, opening a magazine with nervous
fingers and reading some of the ad'
vertisements.
81 came" said he, as he played with
a silver paper-cutter that had been sc.
cured at bargain sale, ito say good
BY"
"Good-by?" she said in questioning
tones, rising and smiling a Marechal
Mel rose that was stuck in his button.
hole.
He looked intently at an etching by
Field which hung over the desk. 1t
depicted a sylvan scene in the depths
of winter; but he did not think o.
that. Eyes. good-by," he said. DROP
ping the paper-cutter inadvertently
1t fell with tinkling sound upon
the marble comfortable and thence to
the India rug. The sound reused
Marie.
well, then I suppose we mus
part"
"Your supposition is the right one,
said he, taking up 10-cent monthly
She picked up a copy of the latest
novel and opened at the last chapter
It might have had significance. but
If 1t had it escaped her. A fly flew
in at the window and settled on her
cheek, but she did not notice 1t.
Charles leaned forward and brushed
the fly from her delicate cheek. He
had ceased to care for her, but he was
not above doing her q common cour-
tesy. He read a short poem In the
1O-cent monthly. At last he said, You
have not answered me-"
81 do not know that you had asked
me anything" she replied, turning her
head SO as to see the little oil paint
ing of a flock of sheep, which her
father had won at rattle.
ooh, Marie, don't you understand
me?" he cried in tones Of anguish, as
he stepped to the mirror and tied his
cravat.
Marie was silent. She did not un-
derstand him. She hated herself for
it, and tapped the Smyrna rug witt
her foot as she had seen actresses do
under stress of feeling.
Charles rose and walked to the door
He turned and looked over the shout
der of his pepper-and-salt suit. All
was at an end.
Marie picked up a magazine and
looked at the pictures.
There was sound Of q closing
door. Marie was alone with the bool
and magazines, the paper-cutter, the
seven chairs, the armchair, the sofa
the comfortable, the mirror, the desk
the lace curtains, the pictures and the
Smyrna rug.
The lunch bell rang.
She fastened to the dining-room.
Copyright. by James Pott & Coz