Atlanta Georgian., 1914-02-27
No Result.

There was no result--at first, at
hours in the room with my treasure
without appearing to be aware OF its
presence. But toward evening his
two principal friends came to play
bridge with him, and then, from the
ambush of my own apartments
heard the screechy voice of Mr.. vivian
saying:
Dash it all, Jimmy, you don't say
you're going to be a Pape?"
Don't fret yourself, old fellow" re-
piled my husband. That's my wife's
little f1utter. Dare say the poor fool
has had to promise her priest TO make
me q vert"
MY next experiment was perhaps
equally childish. but certainly more
successful
Seeing that my husband was fond
of flowers, and was rarely without a
rose in his buttonhole, l conceived
the idea of filling his room with them
in honor of his birthday. With this
view 1 got up very early, before any
body in the hotel was stirring, and
hurried off to Covent Garden through
the empty and echoing streets, while
the air of London was fresh with the
breath of morning and the big city
within its high-built walls seemed to
dream of the green fields beyond.
I arrived at the busy and noisy
SQUARE lust as the wagons were roll
ing in from the country with huge
crates of red and white roses bright
with the sunshine and sparkling with
the dew. Then buying the largest and
loveliest and costliest bunch of them
ca great armful, as much as l could
hold. I hurried back to the hotel and
set them in vases and glasses in
every part of my husbands room
his desk. his sideboard, his mantel-
piece, and, above all, his table, which
a waiter was laying for breakfast
until the whole place was like bridal
bower.
.fAh. this is something like" l
heard my husband say as he came out
of his bedroom an hour or two after
ward with his vicious terrier at his
heels.
heard no more until he had fin
ashed breakfast, and then, while
drawing on his gloves for his morn
ing walk, he said to the waiter, who
was clearing the table,
"Tell your manageress / am much
obliged to her for the charming flow
ers with which she has decorated my
room this morning"
But it wasn't the manageress, my
lord said the waiter.
linen VINO NdS IL
'It was her-her ladyship' said the
waiter
"O-oh!" said my husband, in a soft
er if more insinuating tone, and
few minutes afterward he went out
whistling.
God knows that was small reward
for the trouble I had taken, but |
was so uplifted by the success of my
experiment that I was determined to
go further, and when toward evening
of the same day a group Of my hus-
bands friends came to tell him that
they had booked a box at a well
known musical comedy theater |
begged to be permitted to join them.
Nonsense, my dear! Brompton
Oratory would suit you better" said
my husband, chucking me under the
chin.
But l persisted in my importuni
ties, and at length Mr.. Eastcliffe said;
let her come. Why shouldn't
she?'
very well,' said my husband,
pinching my cheek CAS- you please.
But if you don't like it, don't blame
me-"
1t did not escape me that as a re-
suit of my change of front my hus
band had risen il his own esteem
and that he was behaving toward me
as one who thought he had conquered
my first repugnance, or perhaps tri-
umphantly ridden over it. But in my
7 IN, 4