The Calumet news. [volume] (Calumet, Mich.) 1907-1938, 1911-12-28

my IhtneT, too, ne WIS anotiicr iluI.
Then presently. looking up at the
stars. she became little humble; she
made no attempt TO judge. What was
she. In the audacity OF her youth. to
fitch the privilege Of the Almighty?
Robert was a gentle little man. who
with strong, big man who couldn't.
that was all. Just one mistake among
myriad in teeming world.
"And what I've got to do Is to sour
ry back into my everyday self as
quickly as l can" she concluded.
after all. nothing has happened.
Robert Is Robert. and am l. just as
we were when we pledged our troth.
And yet | could have killed him to-
night. To kill man because he hap
pens TO be himself is scarcely reason
able or sane. With this weakness. in
herent In his nature. he'll have need
of me. And the children want me.
must take my life In my own hands.
No one can help me now. 1t will be
amusing to manage 1t. an excitement"
She rose. but her knees shook in an
imbecile sort of way. She laughed a
bit sharply out into the dark.
I'm my mother all over again. ]
see My young mother died Of this
sort of thing. believe" She put her
hand out TO touch a tiny jutting spu-
twinkling silver In the new moons
rays and shivered. "Eut I'll not die
OF It; shall ill out. The fall from
FOOLS paradise hurts--oh. 1t hurts-but
1t doesn't XIII us in .hase days"
Closing the balcony door softly. she
entered the nursery. The children
were fast asleep in their cots. She
touched them curiously to see If their
soft. warm flesh would thrill her as it
used TO do.
poor little helpless souls! You will
need me. won't your she said broken
ly. crouching down Mt their side.
Robert junior stirred.
'"The roof-it has n lazy time" he
murmured in his sleep.
Anna smoothed his soft hair and
trembled.
''Dear little son." she said. didn't
mother tell you the roof couldn't help
being where it is. 1t was made like
that. And the walls-they have to
hold it up. No, they do not have
much fun"
Mr.. Marsh6eld Craven. the confiden-
tial friend and legal adviser of the
president OF the Gotham Trust COM
pany. clustered into the presidents IL
brary in his home up the Hudson, near
Ossining. lie had come from New
York early that afternoon and had
much 10 do before the presidents ar
rival on the $50 express.
In hurried. whipping fashion. this
drawer was opened. then that. Papers
End documents were hastily strewn
here. there and everywhere. Unopen-
ed envelopes which dunned for atten-
ton were quickly torn open and
thrown into the wastebasket or on the
floor, as the chance might be. All of
which proved a sore trial to Mrs.
Mason. the presidents housekeeper.
who vas in the last stages of ''tidying
up" the library.
AS usual. when Craven was busting
with work he noticed nothing of his
surroundings. He pulled out his
watch. Fifteen minutes. yes.
''See If you can rattle off this letter
in time for the next post. Miss Gra-
ham. Take 1t directly on the ma
chine" he said. plying his fingers
through his thin, gray hair. And he
began to dictate.
But there was no confirming click
of the typewriter. Craven turned over
his shoulder toward the secretary's
desk and looked above the rim OF his
glasses.
BLESS my SOUL" he exclaimed, IF
I hadn't clean forgotten the bird had
TOWN. Humph. Mrs. Mason" he said
suddenly. addressing the housekeeper,
who stood mutely busting generous
pipe rack. "what in the world induced
Miss Graham to give up her job any
how? She's been here over n year.
She's given entire satisfaction: had
her stipend raised twice; always treat
td NtuNC IL
make il outp'
Mrs. Mason suspended her feather
buster and smiled systematically.
"She said her health was bad and
she wanted a rest"
Health bad? Fiddlesticks" grunt-
ed Craven. "She had cheeks like Bald
win apples and walked like india rub
ber."
"Well. for my part. Mr.. Craven. I'll
be perfectly frank. I'm going TO give
up my position, too, only don't in
tend TO lie about 1t. I'm going be-
cause
Because. Mrs. Mason?v The law.
yer whrled around with surprise and
vexation.
"Well, things don't suit me, sir"
'Then why don't you fire the cook.
fire the butler. fire the whole blame
outfit If they don't suit you? know
Mr.. Temple would rather lose all of
'em than YOU"
Mrs. Mason finished the pipe rack
and began nervously plying her duster
among the antlers and engraved hunt.
ing scenes.
"0h fha carvo N fq n ra oil ejobf - cold