The Washington herald., 1915-01-18
DAILY SHORT STORY.
THE BABY.
By OLIVE ROBERTS BARTON

Copyright, Ig5l
The great singer was spending heI
short vacation in an unusual way II
might be said also that il had been
none OF her own choosing. What did she
know of baby food. or mending holes
in Johnnie's stockings as big as buck
wheat cakes? How did she know how
many days Flossie should wear the
same pettlcoat?
The whole three were in bed now
and the great singer relaxed luxurious
ly in soft. clinging negligee that con-
trasted strikingly with the very much
used furniture of the little living room.
She knew no one in the town. so there
was little danger of callers She was al
ways tired after the triplicate bedtime
bath. and it was too much of an effort to
dress.
Her thoughts were as busy as the
fingers OF the little maid of all work,
now doing dishes audibly in the
kitchen. She was thinking how odd it
was for her to be there at all.
A telegram had been responsible.
Sister Jane and her husband William
had been called away by trouble in
williams family. There had been no
one else to ask TO look after the chill
dren. She had consented grudgingly.
feeling at the same time a guilty pang
of conscience. In her two years of
fame and prosperity the little suburb
an family had been almost forgotten.
certainly neglected. She had never even
seen the baby!
Steps suddenly sounded on the
little front porch like so many bangs
ioE a bass drum. The house reverber-
ated to the footballs of new arrivals
so loudly that it was hardly neCes-
sary to knock. Tillie. out in the kitchen.
heard and was at the door beforc her
temporary mistress could stop her.
"Is this where Miss Farrell is stay
ing?" asked a mans voice.
joe" exclaimed Miss Farrell impa-
tientIy. will he never learn that there
isn't a bit of use in chasing after me.
wherever / go?"
Joe stamped of the snow noisily and
came inside She heard the sound of
his hat and coat being deposited upon
the hall rack. and had just time to as
sumo very toplofty expression be
slender. very pretty and not very tall.
in spite of the adjective. Moreover. her
name off the stage was Peggy. Yet
pretty little Peggy could look very
toploftical even as Joe, which was fool
ish. Joe had known her when she was
overwhelmed with the honor of being
asked to sing in the church choir back
home.
He came in big. glowing and clumsy.
The little room seemed full before he
got farther than the doorway. Peggy.
in her chair before the fire. half turn
ed-just enough for him to see the top
loftical expression.
Peggy" he exclaimed deIightedly.
forward.
Good evening. joe" evenly. You
chose a nice night to come so far.
Won't you sit DOWN."
Joe sat down on the other side of
the fireplace as though cold water had
been thrown on him. He might have
it. especially after last meet
ing, when Peggy had told him she
wouldn't give up her career for any
man in the world.
But he had bobbed up serenely, re-
fusing to acknowledge defeat with the
same persistence that had finally
brought him luck in the business world.
He rebounded Enthusiastically now. |
You look awfulIy sweet, Peggy.
Aren't you glad to see me?"
MOI" deliberately.
This was disconcerting
Il wouldn't have come-only |
thought of something after-after we'd |
been talking the other night" 81
She didn't answer
You see'" shifting uneasily. "ff you
would marry me, you could go ahead |
with your singing just the same as |
ever. You could sing just as well as
Margaret Farrell Sturtevant, as you |
can as Margaret Farrell. Now, couldn't
you? That wouldn't be interfering
With your career, would It? and, Peggy.
Tou used to care a little for me-"
She watched the FIRE a minute. re-
enting- IT'S hard to be cross with
you. Joe. You just won't let people. will
you? I'm going to be extra nice now
Ind explain.
You see, Joe. your plan won't work
or hundred reasons. You love
lome. You're a regular home man IL
here ever was one. I can't make a
rome. II isn't In me. I hate every
hing about a house. If I wasn't sure
,efore. am now after being here two