The Knoxville independent. [volume] (Knoxville, Tenn.) 1894-current, 1917-11-10

H::::$$ IA $$$;*:: - noon. EVERY
body says she's q
mighty fine WON
"But it's been
barely year! They might have wait
ed little longer"
what for? If he's lonely and with
that big barn of house-why should
he wait? Just to satisfy few cack-
ling old women"
"Oh, know conceded Helen, "but
/ can't help but"
"Now see here, we're calling on the
new Mrs. Dawson-get those ideas out
of your head. Dawson was mighty
good to his first wife, and his marrying
again Is nobody's business but his own.
Hold up, isn't this the houseY
1t was four-story brownstone,
with square bay window, a stone
balustrade and an air of substantial
dignity.
They were ushered into the long,
fligh-ceilinged front parlor with it's CEN
ter chandelier, marble mantel and
heavy black walnut furniture.
The last time they had been in that
room was at the funeral. The coffin
had stood in the back parlor, just be-
You'd the folding doors. Helen could
see it now-the lusterless black cloth,
the silver handles, and the white flow
.ers banked from the floor.
ut seems good to see you people
again." was Mr.. Dawson's cordial
greeting. "Come upstairs and meet
Irene. We have our sitting room up
there now"
They followed him up the curved
stairway to the large front room
which had always been the guest
room, Now it was wholly transformed.
With very evident pride, Mr.. Daw-
son introduced the slender, girllsh
woman who came forward to meet
them.
Her unexpected youth stabbed Helen
with swift resentment. Mrs. Dawson
had been. almost forty and inclined to
stoutness.
"a very attractive ROOM" Warren
was saying to relieve an embarrassing
pause. "They don't build them this
size any more"
eyes, we think it's more cheerful
than downstairs" her voice was pleas
antly low. tits so hard to do any
thing with those long front parlors.
They're so stiff and formal-don't you
thinkW
"They are rather hopeless" admitted
Helen, who was taking a flashing in
ventory. The room had been entirely
done over and refurnished. Window
seat, low bookcases, easy chairs, some
.gayly blooming geraniums and bowl
of cut flowers made it very cheerful,
llvable place.
"Would you like to see the other
rooms?' suggested Mrs. Dawson, when
her husband and Warren had settled
themselves with cigars.
She led the way through the hall
into their bedroom. Helen caught her
breath at the transformation. White
and old rose was the color scheme.
Twin beds of ivory enamel with rose
satin comforters, a dressing table
a-glitter with silver, the rugs, the
hangings, even the Longing robe and
slippers, were part of the atmosphere
of luxurious comfort.
There was nothing to suggest the
dark, plain room with Its heavy OAK
bedroom set and assertively lowered
carpet which had seemed all sufficient
to the late Mrs. Dawson.
sim glad you like it" at Helen's
murmured admiration. ut was so dark
with those north windows-I had to
do something to tighten 1t. It's more
attractive at night" touching switch
at the door that lit up the lace-shadeu
lamps.
"Oh. how lovelyl I didn't know you
had electricity"
We've just Put 1t in. You can't 40
anything with gas. This is Mr. Daw-
sons ROOM" opening connecting door.
"His den, where he can throw Things
and be comfortably untidy."
1t was cheerful, mannish ROOM III
warm reds and browns. On maya
zine-strewn table stood shaded read
ing lamp, and beside 1t an easy Learner
chair, A moose head and some mounted
horns, souvenirs Of his hunting trlps'
were ON the wall.
Over the mantel were the only things
chat Helen had so far recognized--an
early portrait of the former Mrs. Daw'
son, and one of their only child NOD
ert. 49,,
Eyes, that is Mr.. Dawson's nttle
boy" flushing Slightly, as she saw he'-
ems glance rest on the picture. "Diu-
did you ever see him"
"Oh, yes, often. It's only been ABOUT
two years since he died. lie was
arowned--but ! suppose you know
about that"
"I've heard something, but I've never |.
wanted to ask Mr.. Dawson about IL
ut was while they were in the coun'