The Washington herald., 1914-12-27
toOrHsht. Bli.l

thing there-something not physical
Finally said to him:
"Its no use. l can't go any furthei
till know what you're gnawing at witt
your brain"
He looked at me, but said nothing
A fine, long, weary man, with thin TEN
pies and an aquiline nose, and charreC
circles of sleeplessness about his sunk
en- eyes. A little too fine drawn, toe
fastidious-the liRes of his upper lii
showed that.
you act to me-" l said, "as if yor
had something on your mind; some
thing haunting you"
He stared queerly at that; looked al
ne suspiciously.
You're right" he said, at last, with
an odd laugh. 81 am haunted"
And so he told me this modern ghost
tory:
1t was about four months ago, ]
should say, when was walked up again
toward morning by that distressing
sound of woman crying in the night.
My wife was having another of her fits
Of weeping.
What is it?" | asked her.
No answer for long time, to con-
inued questioning.
Nothing, nothing" she finally said,
and shook my hand from her shoulder.
| wrenched the thing from her at
last-after pleading for fully half an
hour. She was crying for her youth!
IT'S past midnight" she said, between
sobs. 81 heard it strike And Pm-Pm
thirty years old
My first feeling was of relief My
next was angry amusement.
oh, Grace, for heavens sakeT
said.
"ThereT she exclaimed, sitting up.
You've walked DoodlelIins."
Her Pomeranian dog always slept in
the room with us-under a little blue
silk quilt on one of the easy chairs He'd
shaken II off ; and heard the fantastic
Eghtness of his feet as he went toward
her bedside.
She took him up, hid her face in his
fur, and began her childish talk TO him.
You love your muzzer, if she is old,
don't you, Doodlekins? You're the
only one who cares, dearie. Yes. There,
therep
l had nothing against dogs in gen.
eral; but that beast was a hopeless i'm
beetle, with the bulging forehead of an
idiot baby.
She lay there, alternately crying and
appealing for its sympathy.
Great Caesar" | remarked, and left
her to its ministrationS.
We had no children. My wife did not
want them, and / didn't care particular
ly for them myself. We had lived ten
years, one place or another, in apart
ment hotels. You know them, probably
those institutions of the childless
women who have taken the vow of per-
petual youth.
They strike you as amusing at first
those horid establishments where sterile
women do a little light housekeeping
for Pomeranian dogs, and devote the
rest of their lives to decorating their
bodies. Grotesque, but after while dis
gushing, horrible All these empty wom-'
en-, dreaming, longing, struggling for
the indefinite preservation of one thing
youth, youth, youth, forever slipping
out of their fingers. Dresses without
end, of course-and jewelry; but, more
important still, day after day, their
squads of kneaders, and renovators, and
embalmers, who work continually on
them their miracles of chemical youth.
The product is frightful, of course.
They are no longer human beings; they
are so much manufactured goods. They
are dressed all alike, by the confedera-
tion of fat-hngered women's clothierS.
Anything and everything TO be all alike
anything to avoid thinking.
That was my wife's remedy-any-
thing TO avoid thought That next
night, as on the nights before, we rush
ed out down the palpitating lights OF
Broadway, to feed our souls at the
quick-lunch counter Of summer vaude-
vile show. The thing disguised me.
God. how tired | am of being forcibly
fed my emotions and my thoughts from
the same trough as five million people
The very libraries dispense vapldity in
stead of intelligence
You certainly are cheerful compan-
ion, Perkins," said my wife, when we
reached home. My nickname itself was
taken from some comic opera
Am l :" l said. | never argued with
her.
II S so lowering, ISL H. SIS Sdiu-
$50 hard to stand even one night-to
lift your old ruffy-hufles wife out of
the blues"
| said nothing.
What a pity you ever married mel
she hurried on. you should have found |
a real highbrow, with a marble fore
head, and had a nice little family of
white porcelain children"
More comic, opera, of course. She
was working herself up again.
Pretty little images of papa and
mamma. So nice, so shiny, so cold.
She burst into tears.
Don't be silly, Grace" l said.
! can stand anything but vulgarity in
women-even immortality. Though, as
a matter of fact, the two are generally
inseparable
Silly! Is it silly to be human? I'll
make you silly some day." she said, still
sobbing, and retired for comfort to her
dog: =.
zling the little beast We'll, he does
love his muzzer, doesn't he-even if she
is a disgusting lightweight"
was glad of anything that diverted
her emotions. l hated, above all, those
fits of silence that were apt to follow
her outbreaks.
As matter of fact, one followed.
CL. eaid x-srv LITTLE 10. me Her corT1-