Cut Bank pioneer press. [volume] (Cut Bank, Mont.) 1909-current, 1914-12-11
CHAPTER l..

Daniel Slade sat reading the evening
newspaper In the handsomely appoint
cd library of his spacious home. To
all intents he was q man at peace with
the world. He had money and power.
He had advanced from a penniless
miner to a millionaire figure In the
business world. At fifty his were the
fruits Of O. well-spent, energetic life.
Handsome and immaculate In his per-
fectly tailored evening clothes, he fit
ted into the beautiful room with it's
rich tapestries and oriental rugs with
all the ease and naturalness of a man
born to culture and wealth.
Every now and then his eyes van
dered from his newspaper to the fig
ure of his wife sitting at the other side
Of the richly carved table. The tiny,
unimposing little woman in her badly
cut, dun-colored gown was the one in
congrrous detail in the room. She
was like a shabby little prairie flower
suddenly transpianted to a conserva-
tory where brilliant orchids and lovely
roses bloomed all about her, her faint
little fragrance overpowered by their
6CoNy bWO0lAc66"uST u6IlCdb0 lONGll-
ness completely submerged by very
contrast with the radiant beauty of
her surroundings.
To SHADES critical eyes, the dowdy
little figure, with the work basket in
her lap and her head bent over the
stocking she was contentedly darning,
was an actual eyesore. He had fitted
mn "A n OnjRnnn hOnnn that would
have made a perfect setting for a prin-
cess, and his wife's appearance had
not changed q particle from the days
when they lived In q tumble-down cot
tage and he worked in the mines in his
shirtsleeves. With the getting of vast
mounts of money he had acquired a
veneer of anner and tastes hat at
times failed to conceal the rough and
brutal instincts of the real man. His
social horizon Was charging. but
within 1t his wife seemed to find no
place. He wanted, beyond this and
everything, to climb the political tree
and pick the fruits thereof. His wife
seemed not to know that there was
such a thing as a political tree to
climb. With herself, her husband and
her work she was contented and
happy.
The wives of other men of his po-
sition were social queens noted for
their beautiful gowns, their entertain
ing and their clever wit. He alone
was shackled to a woman he would
have been ashamed to introduce to
his friends. Only he was tied to a
wife he could not force either by
pleading or argument to enter into
the life which meant so much to him.
Tonight as he rehearsed in his
mind his many unsuccessful efforts to
make Mary advance and take an inter
est in his life as it was now, rebellion
surgeG in his heart. He had struggled
year after Year to attain his present
standing. his present position in the
world. and Mary. the one loved thing
Of his life. insisted on hanging like a
milestone around his neck.
Why, oh. why, couldn't the woman
progress? Why hadn't she developed
as he had done? Why was she com.
placently sitting there satisfied to re
main just as she had been twenty
years ago, hopelessly behind the
times?
And If she wouldn't advance-why
should he consent to be held back by
her? If she wouldn't go on with hin
--he would leave her behind. The
thought and the resultant decision
had their birth suddenly but positively
In the mans mind. He would make
one more argument, one last appeal
If Mary wouldn't meet him half way
Mary could stay behind with her ever
lasting darning and her eternal knit
ting. She could wash and cook ant
stew and sew, if she liked. but sh,
couldn't do it in his mansion.
But Daniel Slade was no more un
comfortable at having her there thar
Mary Slade was at being obliged Il
live In this great, elegant house, will
its crowds of servants and it's routine
absolutely foreign and well-nigh hate
full to her. She knew she didn't fl
into her surroundings. She realize,
her own inharmony. Her attempts t
look natural and feel comfortably
were pathetic. She felt lost withou
the task OF overseeing the Monday
washing. She was heart-broken be
cause she couldn't personally superb
tend the making of Dams coffee. He
life was incomplete because a hire
cook made the bread that was serve
on the table and because Dan neve
seemed to miss the evenly brow
loaves that had been her especis
pride In the old days.
a Mary Slade was as commonplace q
a cup Of boiled tea. She was a plail
ordinary. everyday woman, who love
q simple, u~npretentious life, with til
neighbors dropping In for a word {
two. exchanging recipes for muffin
and debating the proper way to BE
gon q stew.
There was neither charm nor cor
fort for her in the vista of rooms ope
ing out from the spacious library. TT
brocaded chairs : were straight ar
didn't rock. They were high-posts
and stilted compared to her own 10,
--MA