The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1912-09-27

ter. Some superior force, the devil
no doubt, fairly shook him with glee.
ooh, that's bully" he shrieked, Il
haven't heard a story like that for
ages"
Why, where have you been, Dr.
Temple?" asked Ashton, who could
not imagine where a man could have
concealed himself from such stories.
But he laughed loudest of all when
the doctor answered: You see, live
in Ypsilanti. They don't tell me
stories like that"
''They-who?" said Fosdick.
Why, my pa-my patients" the
doctor explained, and laughed so hard
that he forgot to feel guilty, laughed
so hard that his wife in the next room
heard him and giggled to Mrs. Whit
comb:
Listen TO dear Walter. He hasn't
laughed like that since he was IA
medical student" Then she buried
her face guiltily in a book.
Wasn't it good?" DR.. Temple de-
manded, wiping his streaming eyes
and nudging the solemn-faced English
man, who understood his own nations
humor, but had not yet learned the
Yankee quirks.
Wedgewood made a hollow effort at
laughter and answered: Extremely
very droll, but what I don't quite
get was-why the porter said" The
others drowned him in a roar of laugh
ter, but Ashton was angry. Why, you
blamed fool, that's where the joke
came in. Don't you see, the bride
groom said to the bride" then he
lowered his voice and diagramed the
story on his fingers.
Mrs. Temple was still shaking with
sympathetic laughter, never dreaming
what her husband was laughing at.
She turned to Mrs. Whitcomb, but
Mrs. Whitcomb was still glaring at
Mrs. Wellington, who was still writ
ing with flying fingers and anderson
ing every other word.
Some people seem to think they
own the train" Mrs. Whitcomb ragged.
That creature has been at the writ
ing desk an hour. The worst Of it is,
I'm sure she's writing to my hus-
band"
Mrs. Temple looked shocked, but an
other peal of laughter came through
the partition between the male and fe-
male sections of the car, and she
beamed again. Then Mrs. Wellington
finished her letter, glanced it over, ad-
dressed an envelope, sealed and
stamped it with a deliberation that
m.ddened Mrs. Whitcomb. When at
last she rose, Mrs. Whitcomb was in
the seat almost before Mrs. yelling
ton was out of it.
Mrs. Wellington paused at another
wave of laughter from the mems
room. She commented petulantly:
What good times men have.
They've formed a club in there al
ready. We women can only sit around
and hate each other"
why, l don't hate anybody, do
your" Mrs. Temple exclaimed, look
ing up from the novel she had found
on the book shelves. Mrs. yelling
ton dropped into the next chair:
"On a long railroad journey l hate
ncys?"
Its the first l ever took" Mrs.
Temple apologized, radiantly, land I'm
having the-What my oldest boy would
call the time of my life. And dear
Walter-such goings on for him! A
few minutes ago I strolled by the door
and / saw him playing cards with a
ar Ir;-
too, all at once"
Boys will be boys" said Mrs. Will
lington.
But for DR.. Temple of all people"
Why shouldn't a doctor? It's a
shame the way men have everything.
| Think of it, a special smoking room.
And women have no place to take a
puff except on the sly
Mrs. Temple stared at her in awe:
"The woman in this book smokes!-
perfumed things!"
"All women smoke nowadays" said
Mrs. Wellington, carelessly. Don't
you?"
The politest thing Mrs. Temple
could think of in answer was: mot
yet"
Really" said Mrs. Wellington,
Don't you like tobacco?"
Il never tried it."
It's time you did. l smoke cigars
myself"
Mrs. Temple almost collapsed at
| this double shock: "Ci-cigars
Yes; cigarettes are too strong for
me; will you try one of my pets?"
Mrs. Temple was about to express
her repugnance at the thought, but
Mrs. Wellington thrust before her a
| portfolio in which nestled such dainty
| shapes of such a warm and winsome
brown, that Mrs. Temple paused to
stare, and, like Mother Eve, found the
fruit of knowledge too interesting
once seen to reject with scorn. She
hung over the cigar case in hesitant
| excitement one moment too long. Then
she said in trembling voice: Il
| should like to try once-just TO see
what it's like. But there's no place.
Mrs. Wellington felt that she had
already made proselyte to her own
beloved vice, and she rushed her vic
tim to the precipice: There's the OBJ.
servation platform, my dear. Come
ON out"
Mrs Temple was shivering with dis.
NAV at the dreadful deed: What