The Olneyville times. (Olneyville [Providence, R.I.]) 1887-1917, 1913-06-27
CHAPTER XIII.
Throuuh a Tunnel.

ia one ueleTnlneu 10 90 ner snare
toward the education OF her native
country. and chose, for her topic, to-
bacco as a feminine accomplishment.
She had grown Indifferent 10 stares
and audible comment and she could
fight protesting head waiter TO a
standstill. II monuments and tablets
are ever erected TO the first woman
who smoked publicly in this place or
that, Mrs. Jimmie Wellington will be
variously remembered and occupy a
large place in historical record.
The narrow confines of the women's
room on the sleeping car soon palled
on her, and she objected 70 smoking
there except when she felt the added
luxury OF keeping some other woman
outside-fuming, but not smoking
And now Mrs. Jimmie had staked out
claim on the observation platform.
She sat there, putting like a major
general, and in one portion OF Ne
braska two farmers fell off their agri-
cultural vehicles at the sight of her
cigar.smoke trailing after the train.
In Wyoming three cowboys followed
her for a mile, yipping and bowling
their compliments.
Feeling the smoke mood coming on,
Mrs. Wellington invited Mrs. Temple
TO smoke with her, but Mrs. Temple
felt a reminiscent qualm at the very
thought, so Mrs. Jimmie sauntered
out alone, 10 the great surprise or
Ira Lathrop, whose motto was, Two
heads are better than one" and who
was apparently willing to wait till
Anse Gattle's head grew on his
| shoulder
81 trust don't intrude," Mrs. Well
ington said.
"Oh, no oh, yes" Anne gasped in
| fiery confusion as she fled into the
car, followed by the purple-faced Ira,
who slammed the door with a growl
That Wellington woman would break
up anything"
The prim little missionary toppled
into the nearest chair: "Oh, Ira, what
will She Think"
she can't think" Ira grumbled.
I'm little while she'll know"
Don't you think we'd better tell
everybody before they begin to talk?''
Ira glowed with pride at the
thought and murmured with all the
ardor of senile Romeo: Il suppose
so, ducky darling I'll break it
mean I'll tell 1t TO the men, and you
tell the women"
"All right, dear, I'll obey you," she
answered. meekly.
obey mel" Ira laughed with boy
ish swagger And you a mission
ary,"
We'll, I've converted one heather,
! anyway" said Anne as she darted
down the corridor. followed by Ira,
who announced his intention TO "go
to the baggage car and dig up his old
| Prince Albert"
In their flight forward they passed
the mysterious woman in the state
| room. They were too full of their
own mystery to give thought TO hers
! Mrs Fosdick went timidly prowling
toward the observation car, suspect.
ing everybody to be a spy, as Mallory
suspected everybody TO be a clergy.
man in disguise.
AS she stole along the corridor
past the mems clubroom she saw her
| husband-her here-and-there husband
-wearily counting the telegraph
posts and summing them up into
miles She tapped on the glass and
signalled to him, then passed on.
He answered with a look, then pre-.
tended not 70 have noticed. and wait
ed few moments before he rose with
an elaborate air Of carelessness. lie
beckoned the porter and said:
Let me know the moment we en-
ter Utah, will your
"Yassah Wen be comm along
right soon now. We got TO pass
through the big Aspen tunnel, after
that, befo long. We splounce into old
Utah"
Don't forget" said Fosdick, as be
sauntered out. Ashton perked up his
ears az the promise Of a tunnel and
kept his eye on his watch.
Fosdick entered the observation
IOOIll Win a AAA6As tNph AZ hl0
! luscious eyes. His now-and-then wife
put up a warning finger TO indicate
Mrs. Whitcombs presence at the
writing desk.
Fosdick's smile froze into a smirk
OF formality and he tried 10 chill his
tone as II he were speaking TO a total
! stranger.
Good afternoon
Mrs. Fosdick answered with equal
| ice: Good afternoon. Won't you SIT
/ down."
Thanks. Very picturesque seen.
cry. isn't it?"
Isn't it?" Fosdick seated himself,
| looked about cautiously, noted that
/ Mrs. Whitcomb was apparently alb
/ sorbed in her letter, then lowered bis
voice confidentialfy. His face kept up
a strained pretense OF indifference.
but his whisper was passionate with
I longing:
Has my poor little wifey missed
her poor old hubby
"Oh. so much" she whispered