Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1911-09-14

whats q woman's reason? Oh.
sect My dear, don't try to be funny
after midnight One doesn't feel much
| in the mood for that sort OF thing"
Mr.. Pedrie wrenched his collar of and
flung It across the room. he sent his
vest after the collar and then realized
that the icy feeling down his spine
| was caused by the slipping of n collar
button down his neck. He Swore soft
~ and lowered his head in the vain
hope that the offending collar button
would slide out again.
It did not, but his position was the
means of his discovering the rosewood
box.
He caught a glimpse of its polished
surface and brass ornaments Under bis
chiffonier. He was sure he had search
ed there before, but apparently he had
failed to locate 1t. He pulled 1t out
and tucked it under his arm. throw
ing his bathrobe over it to conceal it.
Where are you going now. Phin?"
asked Phoebe curiously.
Mr.. Pedrie paused on the threshold
and looked with a superior smile at
his wife. TIN going downstairs to
the library" he said.
He went downstairs again with the
rosewood box tucked under his arm.
He did not stop in the library. In
stead he went to the kitchen, where
he found the tool chest and extracted
a hammer and chiseI and a bunch OF
old keys OF all shapes and sizes.
In the glare Of the electrics he studied
the rosewood box. There was the key
hole. but no key. He tried all the
spare keys, and not one atted the lock.
The hinges were beautifully set in the
box, and he was loath to wrench them
of. yet the box must be opened. He
must discover what secret his wife
was keeping from him.
He inserted the chisel under the lid
and pried gently. The lock strained.
but held. He bore down harder, and
at last. with a splinter Of wood around
the inside of the lock. the cover few
up and knocked his eyeglasses spinning
across the room. where they shattered
against the range.
And bang goes S15" CALCULATED Mr..
Pedrie, staring hopelessly at the gilt
tering fragments of his eyeglasses.
what is the matter, Phineas" asked
his wife from the doorway. and then
as her gaze fell on the open box in his
hand she added: What are you doing
with my box, Phin? Are you out OF
your mfndT'
Mr.. Pedrie glared savagely at her.
Woman" he said accusingly, you
have a secret from me. l must know
the worst, Phoebe Pedrie Witt Do
not speak, You know I Will be quite
just with you"
He held the box to the light ana
fumbled in It He brought up tan
gled mass of white thread. a measure
Of lace and an ivory bobbin. What Is
thisT' he stammered.
MY tatting." choked Mrs. Pedrie.
And thisT Mr.. Pedrie covered his
chagrin by fishing up the one other ar
tcle in the box-a bundle Of letters
tied about with blue ribbon. Aha,
Your love letters to me, dear" said
his wife sweetly. And on examination
30 they proved to be.
Mr. Pedrie sat and stirred speeches.
" from the emptydkoK to his shattered
glasses, thence to The tatting and the
harmless babble of his own love let
tiers. He did not look at his wife.
NPhineas." she said after awhile
do you stiii maintain that man is not
possessed of his full share Of curios-
ityT'
Mr.. Pedrie looked sheepishly at her.
threw up his hands and dived into bis
trousers pocket for his wallet This
he tossed across the kitchen table TO
his wife.
Help yourself, Phoebe" he said.
with a feeble smile. Its on mer'