Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1912-05-11

merely the hearse and the dead-wagon.
Their two men were almost as much
"jobbed" as the horses, being paid by
the hour when on duty; one was the
janitor of the Masonic Temple and the
other a nondescript creature, who
could usually be found fishing off the
end Of the wharf. When he was not
fishing of the end of the wharf you
could then be positive that he was
leaning against the bar of the Good
Fellows Grotto. He wabbled between
the two, more often than not with q
pail Of minnows.
Mrs. Crowther remained on in her
solitary apartment above the "par-
lors," refusing, with q mild obstinacy,
to move altogether to Mrs. Sattane's.
Matt fell heir to Mr. Crowther's BIZ
cycle, and accompanied his employer
a self-possessed little person, and most
capable and quiet posting her books
every Saturday, and striking weekly
balance in red ink. 1t was invariably
on the right side. for the business was
very profitable-more profitable than
any one save Matt had any concep-
ton Of.
This was period Of great depres-
sion for Matt. No convict ever hated
stripes more than he hated the livery
of that distasteful occupation. The
word undertaken ground into his soul
He understood now why it was so
largely an hereditary caste; one had to
be fortified by an undertaker-descent;
one needed, like Mrs. Crowther, to
have played peek-a-boo among the
collins, and lisped ones lessons at a
paternal, undertaking knee. To be.
come at one bound deaths twin bro
Their was to outrage every suscept1-
bility. Could Chris stoop to so igno-
minious a husband? Would It not
make her hot with shame? An under
taker! Yet she might see it. different
ly; women were so brave where their
affection was at stake; and in GER
tain sense he had succeeded beyond
their widest hopes. A couple could
make out comfortably enough in Man
aswan on a hundred dollars month;
could be warm and snug and happy on
a hundred dollars month. Why then
should he be so unutterably wretched? ?
Chris was growing very far away;
was receding in the void with an ocean
Of heartaches and silence constantly
widening between them. There were
occasions when Matt could not bear
to think of her at all, and felt himself
forgotten; when it was Of the smallest
moment whether he were an undertake
er at all in the comparison Of that
more terrible disaster. She would
never come back; she would never
write again; some day he would hear
that she was married. Her willing
ness to come to him seemed 1ncredi-
BILE in the retrospect. 1t was girls
ephemeral fancy, as fllmy as bubble,
and destined to vanish at breath.
It was not a world where such things
happened; lovely princesses no longer
condescended to-cOwards, or re-
NAMED true to lowly lovers through
thick and thin; they chose men as
desirable as themselves, who could
give as much as they received. Money,
family. social position-what q triple.
barred Port. Arthur for one little Jap.
anese to scale! The little Japanese
was excessively depressed. He re-
garded those towering battlements,
and then hung his dispirited head.
Before long he was spared any fur
Their bitter self-communion as to the
business he was engaged in, and had
no reason again to weigh his hundred
dollars against his craped hat and that
seat on the hearse. One day, return
ing with what had once been a grocer
before apoplexy and fate had COM
bined to strike him down, Matt found
the "parlors' shut. After much
knocking, none of which served to
rouse Mrs. Crowther within, Matt
scrambled to the second story by
means of a gutter-pipe, and invaded
the apartment. Ordinarily 80 neat, 1t
presented sight Of the utmost con-
fusion, as though thieves had ransack-
ed it from end to end. Clothes were
heaped on the floor; boots, odds and
ends of women's f1nery, torn-up letters
and old magazines-all the litter that
attends hurried packing and pre-
cipitate departure. Mrs. Crowther
had gone, and with her the three
trunks containing shrouds and house
hold linen that used to block the little
hall.
He galloped off to Mrs. Sattane's-
dead grocer and all-hoping for some
explanation, some enlightment But
the landlady was as perplexed as he,
and could tell him nothing; nor was
there more to be cleaned from the
Fashion Stables, which were thrown
into a futter and convinced that the
poor lady had met foul play. Mr..
Merrick, the proprietor, followed the
dead-wagon at run as it tore back
to the "parlors," with Matt now thor
oughly alarmed. A man was in the act
of unlocking the front doors as the
former arrived, and he vouchsafed the
extraordinary information that the
property had been sold to Mr.. Farelly.
But where's Mrs. Crowther?" de-
manded Matt.
How the hell do know" returned
the man, who was a surly person of the
bailiff species. 81 am here to take
possession for Mr.. Farelly. who has
bought out the premises, lock, stock
and Darrell"
Failing to get any satisfaction Matt
called up the money-lender over the
telephone.