New Britain herald., 1918-01-25

Vl0on, put my hand over tpe girls mouth. already opened wide TOT another burst of audible sobbing. "Hush" I said sternly. You mustn't alarm Mrs. Graham. Don't say another word"
 I have no idea how l got down stairs to the telephone. There is branch phone upstairs, but l feared to use it.. If, by any miracle. D1cky's mother had escaped being awakened by Katie's loud voice, l must keep her in ignorance as long as possible of whatever terrible thing awaited me at the telephone.
 'Is this Mrs Grahamf~ a mascu- line voice asked, after I had taken up the receiver from the table where Katie's hand had dropped it. and quavered a trembling "Hellor" Yes" I faltered, and recognized even through my terror, the kind of 1 voice it was that questioned me. It was the suave, ippersonally profes- sonal voice the mem bers of most hos l pital staffs acquire in spite of them 1 selves.
 This is Pemberton Hospital. MT. 1 Graham wishes me to give you a n1es sage"
 Flashes of Memory. | All my life I have held rather a doubting Thomas attitude toward the l stories told by people who have come near to death by drowning, and who have said that the events of their l whole lives passed in review before 1 them within the space of a minute or | two. But I shall never again doubt l any such statement, no matter how 1 exaggerated.
 | Tn the few seconds that tntervened | before I could catch my breath suffi- ciently to answer the interne-for 1 such I judged to be the position of the man at the other end of tho telc- phone-there flashed through my l mind with cinema-like swiftness and 1 fidelity to minute details numberless 1 episodes of the checkered emotional 1 life my husband and I had experi- 1 enced together.
 | Curiously enough there were no | happy remembrances. As if the con- sciousness of Dickys peril dulled my l perceptions until regret and remorse were the only emotions that carne to me, there returned only the scenes in 1 which my conscience told me might l have been more tolerant, more ob1ivi- ous of my own feelings
 And overshadowing them all was the miserable remembrance of the I frieid manner in which I had an- swered Dicky's careless, tentative
 overture a few hours before when he
 had telephoned me he was going to | Philadelphia.
 If only I had answered him kindly thcni I could hear his offended:
 Well if that's the way you feel about it, good night" as if his voice had just finished speaking. To think that per haps the last words I should ever hear | my husband speak were those! Like most women at such times I had no | room in my soul for optimism. A
 hospital message meant probable death.
 CIutcling at Straws.
 Are you there, Mrs. Graham ?'' A | touch of professional concern in the voice now I realized that the interne thought I might have fainted. I pulled myself together and com
 pelled myself to answer, But couldn l keep the trembling horror from my ivoice.
 "Oh. yes. What is it? What has
 happened?''
 MT. Frederick Graham wishes mo
 to give you a message" the imperson-
 al voice repeated smoothly. "He saN#
 to tell you he ate a very good sup
 per-
 clutchcd at the straw of the ua~
 familiar given name. "Stop!" I sail
 excitcdly. I'm not Mrs Frederick
 Graham. but Mrs Richard Graham. [
 don't think your message is for mo. l For through my stunned brain Wa@
 creeping the recollection of my search
 through the local telephone register a
 few days before for a tradesman' $
 number, While doing so I had idly
 remarked that there was another Ora , ham besides my own name in the Mar
 win register. What had that given name been2 "Frederick.' Yes, I was quite sure that was his name.
 Let me have the message, please ''
 I said quietly. I must he very sure that it didn't mean Dicky before I dit anything else.
 MT. Frederick Graham wishes III
 to tell you that he had very gooc | supper. that he's feeling fine. that hr
 has gotten hold of some books to read,