The Hays free press. [volume] (Hays, Kan.) 1908-1924, 1915-05-15

Zardy days. But he never allowed her
an instant's rest when it came to the
work in hand. and therein lay the gen
tie shrewdness of the man She was
better OF busy There were times
when he studied the face of Lydia's
mother for signs that might show how
her thoughts ran in relation to the
conditions that were confronting all Of
them But more often he searched the
features of the boy who called him
father.
Always. always there was music in
the house. Behind the closed doors
of the distant study, James Brood lis
tened in spite of himself to the per
sistent drumming of the piano down
stairs Always were the airs light and
seductive; the dreamy, plaintive COM
positions of Strauss, Ziehrer and 9TH
ers of their kind and place. Frederic,
with uncanny fidelity to the prefer
ences Of the mother he had never seen
but whose influence directed him, af-
fected the same general class Of music
that had appealed to her moods and
temperament. Times there were. and
often, when he played the very airs
lAc@S oAC ncsu lOfC0y anu lACHs
his profound antipathy. James Brood's
thoughts Ieaped back a quarter Of
century and fixed themselves on love
scenes and love-times that would not
be denied.
And again there were the wild. riot
Gus airs that she had played with Few
erelli, her soft-eyed music master! Ac-
| cursed airs-accursed and accusing!
He gave orders that these airs were
not to be played, but failed to make
his command convincing for the rea-
son that he could not bring himself to
the point of explaining why they were
distasteful to him. When Frederic
thoughtlessly whistled or hummed
fragments of those prescribed airs. he
considered himself justified in COM
handing him to stop on the pretext
that they were disturbing, but he could
not use the same excuse for checking
the song on the lips of his gay and i'm
pulsive wife Sometimes he wondered
why she persisted when she knew that
he was annoyed. Her airy little apollo
gies for her forgetfulness were Of no
consequence, for within the hour her
memory was almost sure to be at fault
again.
rs there anything wrong with my
hair, Mr.. Brood?'' asked Lydia, with a
nervous little laugh.
They were in the study and it was
ten o'clock of a wet night in April. OF
late, he had required her to spend the
evenings with him in a strenuous eff
fort to complete the final chapters of
the journal He had declared mis- in
tention to go abroad with his wife as
soon as the manuscript was completed.
Lydia's willingness to devote the extra
| hours to his enterprise would have
pleased him vastly if he had not been
afflicted by the same sense of unrest
and uneasiness that made incessant
labor boon to her as well as to him.
Her query followed a long period Of
silence on his part. He had been sug-
costing alterations in her notes as she
read them to him, and there were fire.
quent IulIs when she made the changes
as directed. Without looking at him,
she felt rather than knew that he was
regarding her fixedly from his position
| opposite The scrutiny was disturb
ing to her.
Brood started guiltily. Your hair?"
| he exclaimed. "Oh, see. You women
always feel that something is wrong
with it. I was thinking of something
else, however. Forgive my stupidity.
We can't afford to waste time in think
ing, you know. and 1 am a pretty bad
offender It's nearly halfpast ten.
We've been hard at it since eight
| o'clock. Time to knock of. I will
walk around to your apartment with
you, my dear. 1t looks like an all
| night rain"
He went up to the window and
pulled the curtains aside. Her eyes
followed him
He was staring down into the court,
his fingers grasping the curtains in a
rigid grip. He did not reply. There
was a light in the windows opening
out upon Yvonne's balcony.
81 fancy Frederic has come in from
the concert he said slowly. He viii
| take you home, Lydia. You'd like that
better. eh?"
He turned toward her and she
paused in the nervous collecting of her
papers. His eyes were as hard as steel,
his lips were set
please don't ask Frederic to" she
began hurriedly.
They must have left early" he
muttered, glancing at his watch Re
turning to the table he struck the big.
melodious gong a couple of sharp
| blows. For the first time in her recol-
lection, it sounded jangling, discord-
ant note, as of impotence. Ranjab ap-
peared in the doorway. Have Mrs.
Brood and Mr. Frederic returned, Ran
jab?"
Eyes, sahib. At ten o'clock"
eff Mr.. Frederic is in his room send
him to me-"
He is not in his room, sahib."
The two, master and man, looked at
each other steadily for a moment.
Something passed between them.
Tell him that Miss Desmond is
ready to go home"
Yes, sahib" The curtain fell.
81 prefer to go home alone, Mr.