Middletown transcript., 1917-11-03

mighty fine wom-
1a0e' ns'0e'' o'"'' But it's been
barely year! They might have walt
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, 1 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
COED to his first wife, and his marrying
again is nobOdy's business but his own.
Hold up, isn't this the house,?
1t was four-story brownstone,
with square bay window, stone
baLlstrade and an air of substantial
dignity.
They were ushered into the long,
high-ceilinged front parlor with its cen
ter chandelier, marble mantel and
heavy black walnut furniture.
The rast time they had been in that
room was at the funeral. The colin
had stood in the back parlor, just be-
yond- the folding doors. Helen could
see it now-the lusterless black cloth,
the silver handles and the white now
ers banked from the floor.
"It 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, girliSh
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"
"Yes, we think it's more cheerful
than downstairs" her voice was pleas
antly low. "It's so hard to do any
thing with those long front parlOrs.
THEY'RE so stiff and formal-don't you
think?"
(: ''They are rather hopeless" admitted
Helen. who was taking a flashing in
yentory. 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
livable place.
"Would you like to see the other
; fooms?" 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, dressing table
a-glitter with silver, the rugs, thc
hangings, even the lounging robe ant
slippers, were part of the atmosphere
of luxurious comfort.
There was nothing to suggest the
dark. plain room with its heavy Oal
bedroom set and assertively f1oweret
CARPET which had seemed all sufficien
to the late Mrs. Dawson.
I'm glad you like it," at Helen:
murmured admiration. ut was so darl
with those north windows-1 had t.
do something to tighten it. It's more
attractive at night" touching switcf
at the door that lit up the lace-shadet
lamps.
'Oh, how lovely! 1 didn't know yo'
had electricity"
"Weve just put it in. You can't d.
anything with gas. This is Mr.. DaW
sons room" opening connecting door
"His den. where he can throw thing
and be comfortably untidy."
It was a cheerful, mannish room, IL
warm reds and browns. On maga
zine-strewn table stood shaded read
Ing lamp. and beside it an easy leathe
chair. A moose head and some mOllnte'
horns. souvenirs of his hunting trips
were on the wall
Over the mantel were the only thing
that Helen had so far recognized-a
early portrait of the former Mrs. Daw
son. and one of their only child, Rot
ert.
YES. that is Mr.. Dawson's littl
ooy,, flushing slightly, as she saw He
EMS glance rest on the picture. Did
did you ever see him?'
"Oh. YES, often. It's only been abOu
fwo years since he died. He wa
drowned-but l suppose you knoN
about that"
"Fve heard something, but I've neve
wanted to ask Mr.. Dawson about 1t.
ut was while they were in the cour
try. He was sailing toy boat. The
never knew just how it happened
only the nurse was with him."
Helen felt her tense interest an
anspoken questions, but she shran
from discussing the child. AS the
turned back into the bedroom, Mr.
Dawson paused by the window, ner'
ously pulling at the shade cord.
"Those portraits were in this room
But couldn't bear that-so l hun
them In there. Perhaps 1 shouldn
speak Of it, it may seem very selfish
but / want so much to hang the one
Mrs. Dawson down in the back pa
ior with the other family portraits.