Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1918-08-23

there was one thing Lillian knew how
to do II was to cure a headache. She
was born nurse. AS he locked up
his desk and gave few curt direc-
tons for the next day, visions of hot
water bottles, cold cloths with ice, a
quiet, darkened room and certain
specific Of which his wife knew the
secret, fioated before his eyes. Then
later hot, delicious broth. and Lii
lian's smooth, quiet voice reading the
evening papers.
Out on the street he CROPPED his way
to the curb to call taxicab. He was
surprised at the density of the fog.
He could hear people quite near walk
ing and talking, but could see no one.
Then he discovered that no taxis
were running. OF course, nothing on
wheels would venture out in that black
destruction through which no light
could penetrate more than a foot or
two.
In some remarkable way he got to a
subway station, and finally, after a
few minutes, reached his own station
and street, and proceeded as before
to feel his way blindly to his own
house.
He hung to familiar iron ratings,
followed walls and CROPPED along
hedges until at last he felt the rough
bricks of his own house. Blndly he
stumbled up the steps, turned the key
In the lock and pushed open the front
door.
A hollow void suddenly seemed to
start up and fairly strike him in the
face. Although the fog had penetrated
inside, he could still see clearly enough
to know that the hall and adjoining
rooms were empty. Carpets, hangings,
furniture and all were gone. His own
breath sounded like thunder in that
vast, empty solitude, and his footsteps
like the explosion of artillery. He
shivered miserably. It dawned on him
by degrees that Lillian had meant
what she said when she asked where
to send his things. She certainly had
lost no time. Then he went to his
club.
All day long Mrs. Bardsley had tried
to keep up the white fires of her in
dignation, but failed miserably as the
afternoon wore on. She had PRESENT.
ment that Thomas would come home
with one of his headaches. Two serv-
ings of rabbit always did 1t. Poor
man! Away off working his head off
In an old stuffy office on such a day
with headache. When she had a
headache she could lie down! It was
true, all he said. He did have it harder
than she did. She would take his ad-
vice, give Katie weeks notice to quit
and do her own work Then she hunted
up his dressing gown and slippers,
pounded up the pillows on the sitting
room lounge, and got things ready gen
orally.
But six o'clock came, half-past,
seven o'clock, eight, then nine. At
last It dawned on Mrs. Bardsley that
Thomas had taken her at her word
and gone somewhere else.
Her indignation returned. Well. if he
felt that way about It, he could go.
Surely he knew her we'll enough not
to take her too seriously when she said
things. 1t merely served him for an
excuse.
A week passed. One evening Mr..
Bardsley could not resist longing to
see the old place where he had been so
happy. 1t was a soft, starlit evening
late in May, and a sort of heimweh
gripped him. There had been no word
from Lillian in all those weary days,
and, not desiring n public scandal, he
had made no efforts to locate her.
All! There was a light in the win
dow. Some one had moved in then-a
happy family, no doubt as his had
once been.
He paused his head on a level with
the window. He could not resist a look
within. There-at the same table, be-
meath the same old light, in the same
old chair, sat Lillian sewing.
"Of course, it was the fog, dear" re-
marked Mrs. Bardsley later when. her
head still on Mr.. Bardsleys shoulder,
they were trying to piece together their
Chinese puzzle of experiences. "You
must have passed our house and gone
to the Smiths. They moved out sew
eral weeks ago. l told you but you'd
forgotten"
1t all goes to show that rabbits are
bad at night and London fogs bad in
the daytime, but quick tempers are
bad things altogether.