The Parma herald. (Parma, Idaho) 1903-1917, 1914-10-08
The Governors s
II A MOBILIZATION OF
Lazy Alice Bradley's Play
BY GERTRUDE STEVENSON
Illustrations from Photographs Of the Stage Production

GERTRUDE STEVENSON

cause she couldn't personally Superin-
tend the Masking OF Dams coffee. Her
life was incomplete because a hireo
cook made the bread that was served
on the table and because Dan never
seemed to miss the evenly brown
loaves that had been her especial
pride in the old days.
Mary Slade was as commonplace as
a cup OF boiled tea She was plain,
ordinary, everyday woman. who loved
simple, unpretentious life. with the
neighbors dropping in for a word or
two. exchanging recipes for mullins
and debating the proper way to sea
son a stew.
There was neither charm nor com
fort for her in the vista Of rooms open
ing out from the spacious library. The
brocaded chairs were straight and
didn't rock They were high-posted
and stilted compared to her own low
seated little rocker in the cottage.
When she sat back in them. stiffiy
and awkwardly, her feet didn't even
reach the floor. but dangled restlessly
above tne priceless rug that was one
OF her husbands newest purchases.
All big crises in life are the re-
suits OF tribes. II took the merest
incident to crystallize SHADES thought
into action. Mary had picked up a
portion of the paper after it had
dropped from her husbands hands
She started to read the printed page
with all the serious Importance of a
little child trying to do something
very big and grown-up.
Suddenly her eyes lighted with
pleasure and tender smile of pride
and delight illuminated her features.
In turning the pages she had sud
denly discovered picture of her hus-
band. under which she read a simple
but significant line:
Daniel S. Slade. Possible Cover
nor
"Oh, DAN" she cried, happily. isn't
this a fine picture of you. could
almost imagine it was going to speak
to me"
-N- -AAE Ea4oCN llltlC Nlollulll
and doubtfully before she asked:
But do you really want to be gov
ernorg'
Want to be-"
Slade caught his breath as he re-
pested her question.
Want TO be-when every aim and
ambition the last few years had been
made in the one direction. toward
the one longed-for goal-political
powerl Want to be-when years be-
fore he had turned his eyes on the
governors chair and had been bat
Ting grizzly. silently, persistently
toward that end ever sincel Want to
be-when that was his one ambition.
the enc thing he had yet to achieve!
He sighed YEARLY to himself. That
Mary could ask that question was the
best proof of how irrevocably they
had drifted apart Living in the same
house with him. eating at the same
table, day after day at his side. the
little woman knew no more of his
real self or his ambitions than the
merest stranger.
It's a nice story about yer, Dan,"
Mary went on, all unconscious of the
struggle going on just a few feet away
from her-the struggle between the
heart OF a man that calls out to the
companion of his youth, the sharer of
his Joys and struggles and the brain
OF a man that demands the glory of
power and the fulhlment of ambition.
But, Dan" questioned Mary's
gentle little voice. who's The Cover
nor's Lady2"
His wife, Of course" snapped Slade.
What does it say about your"
He reached over and took the paper
from her hands. leaned forward ca
geriy toward the light and frowned
as he read:
Should Daniel S. Slade. the ex-
miner, ex-town marshal. ex-sheriff ex-
United States marshal, ex-land boomer
and multimillionaire, arrive. 1t will be
interesting to see the governors lady
busting the gubernatorial chair-prob-
ably the only occupation congenial to
this kind-hearted and plain little
woman"
busting the gubernatoriaI chair"
Slade repeated mockingly, cut to the
quick by this public allusion to his
wife's plainness and lack of social
graces.
That simple little phrase, singing
as II was brief, was as a match flame
to dry timber. It was all that was
necessary to bring the hot rage surg
ing through him to the boiling point.
The sweetness of the little woman's
expression. the tenderness Of her eyes
whenever they rested upon him. the
plaintive softness of her voice meant
nothing to him then. Through angry
eyes he saw only the lack of smart
ness In her somber brown dress. only
the note of absurdity she struck amid
the exquisite surroundings of the
room he had furnished for her. He
thought of nothing but the sorry spec
tacle she would make at a brilliant
dinner or smart function where beau
tiful women in fashionable chiffops
cnatted freely and easily OF men and
things In the progress OF the nation.
This is some of Wesley Merritt's
tin-horn footing wrifinvn o-ou.ios