The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1914-06-18

interesting to see the governors lady
busting the gubernatoriai chair-prob-
ably the only occupation congenial to
this kind-hearted and plain little
woman"
busting the gubernatorial 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 it was brief, was as match fame
to dry timber. 1t 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
pla;ntive 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 chiffons
chatted freely and easily Of men and
things In the progress OF the nation.
This is some of Wesley Merritt's
tin-horn footing writing" growled
Slade Oh his dirty work."
AS her husband muttered to him
self, Mary had calmly resumed her
endless mending of socks, long years
of thrift and saving making it impos-
sible for her to throw away even
well-worn pair in spite of the fact
that the need for repairing had long
since passed.
Slade found himself looking at the
little woman who had been his wife
for twenty years, through lean years
and hard years, as faithful and pa
tient then as later, when success first
began to come his way, very much as
he might have scrutiniZed an entire
stranger For a moment the tragedy
of their present state caught at his
soul, and he felt the infinite pathos
of the womans predicament. A softer
note came into his voice, as he asked
slowly:
Say, haven't you got any clothes,
Mary? Haven't you any of the things
other women wear at night-silk or
|. lace or ruff1es or-whatever they
are?"
Eyes, I've got ''em," Mary replied,
indifferently, but it's too cold to
wear 'em, and those. silk stockings
you told me to buyI can't wear
| them, either-they tickle my toes.
Satin slippers made me uncomfort-
able, and" she finished with bub-
bling little laugh, II guess l wasn't
made for those things, Dan, dear. I'm
too much of home body"
Her very self-satisfied complacency
/ nettled her questioner. The very
sight of the darning needle in her fin
gers maddened him.
Good God, Mary" he exclaimed.
cant you ever stop this endless
mending? Haven't begged you, day
! and night, not to mend my socks.
won't wear socks all over darns-
they're uncomfortable"
Just suggestion of smile played
around Mary SHADES sweet mouth as
she answered:
They're yours, Dan. It's the only
thing left that can do for you-now.
can't bear to see strangers touch
your things" and her voice trailed
off in a wistful sigh, a sigh which
might on any other occasion have
made it's appeal to the earnest-faced
man now gazing at her SO grimly.
/ The lightness of her tone showed
how little she realized the seriousness
of the situation-how little she under.
stood how inadeQuately she was fill
ing her position as his wife. She
loved her husband with the devotion
of a slave and the reverence of wor.
shipper a+ a shrine, but, like many an.
other god woman, she wanted to
show her affection in her own way
and not in his. Because she wanted
to do for him with her hands, she
turned a deaf ear to his pleas that
she use her head. She wanted her
husband to be happy and comforta BILE,
but she wanted to make him happy
and comfortable according to her own
ideas of what ought to make a man
satisfied. She. had seen him rise grad.
ually at first and then by leaps and
bounds. Now that he had become
wealthy and successful she wanted to
decide for him that he ought to let
we'll enough alone. To her it seemed
foolish to bother about being cover.
nor, absurd for him to fret about the
way she dressed and did things.
So, for awhile they sat in silence
and the fire dying down left the room
chilly, so chilly that Mary started up
to get shawl. Halfway to the door
she was peremptorily called back by
her husband, who, ringing for a maid,
dispatched her for the wrap, while
Mary, Inundated and with something
of the air of a martyr, went signing
back to the big, uncomfortable chair
to resume the mending that was such
an irritation to her husband.