The evening Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1918-1920, 1918-10-14

HIS WIFE:
BY MILDRED WHITE.
Copyright, 1918. Western Newapape.-
Union.)

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| (Copyright, 1918, western NeWapape. +
Union)
| Richards arms stretched dcSpaiFng-
!ly across his desk, and presently his
head dropped, to rest between them. 1t
was all over as far as he was con-
cened, and there was nothing to do
but go away and leave Constance in
/ her fathers care, from which he, Rich
ard should never have presumed to
take her But 'love'' at that time had
seemed to be "the greatest thing in the
world" Wealth, and all its protecting
comforts paled to nothingness besides.
He had not realized in youths conf
/ dence to what length his ambition for
his wife was leading him.
I Creditors had forced the fact upon
him--he was in debt, hopelessly in
debt. How had expenses been allowed
| to exceed so completely his regular in
come?
Surely the smart little coupe had
| been needful Connie, perched on the
arm of his chair, had delighted in the
convenience of her purchase.
The beautiful bungalow with its
wcll-kcpt lawn had been her appropri-
ate setting. The bungalow must go,
this was now inevitable, the servants
engaged by his wife must be dismissed.
War condition. might partially ex-
..use his own lack of success in money
matters. He could bear the fathers
contempt-it was of Connie he was
thinking How would she look when
he told her the truth? What would
she do? But there was just one thing,
of course that she could do. She must
so back to her fathers home.
Whlte-faced, and with lines of suffer-
ing about his mouth, he raised his
hcad--reached for the telephone-no,
he could not tell her-yet. He would
write q letter, that would be the easiest
way. He would place the sum of their
Indebtedness against that of his in
come; Connie should draw her own
conclusion and give him answer.
Not once did it occur to him that his
merry little wife might have shared
the blame, yet it was she who had Sc
lccted plans for the bungalow anu it's
costly location.
When the letter was sent on its
way, Richard left town for a bust
ness trip. On his return he would
learn his fate. His own street seemed
strange as he drove up to the bungalow
door, and the auto went for the last
time perhaps-back to the stone
garage.
The rooms were empty as he passed
from one to another, a speaking air of
deSertiOn lowered everywhere. In
Comics own boudoir, bureau draw
erS and closets stood open-she had
been packing-and was gone. Rich
ard sank YEARLY into chair and rang
for maid; his fears were realized;
yet he knew that he had been hoping
against hope, allowing himself to
fancy the impossible-that Connie
might still have loved him enough to
face with him a new beginning of
things.
Mrs. Byron started TO pack imme-
diately upon receiving his letter" the
maid Informed him. "She had left the
address of her destination if he wished
it,"
Richard caught at the scrap Of pa
per. "Willowlale," he read in Con-
MES writing, and that was all. He
wrinkled his brow perplexedly, then
| sighed. No doubt Willowdale was
some new country place of her fathers.
They directed him at the railroad
, station. 1t was q small suburban town.
he learned, not far from the city. The
! agent at Willowdale shook his head
: when Richard inquired for the home of
: ConStance's father. That great mans
, name appeared to be unknown.
'Mrs. Byron them Richard asked,
4 "can you direct me to her?'
= The agents face frightened visibly.
"White cottage" he replied, across
$ from the square"
Richard was still perplexed as he
turned into the garden path leading to
the white cottage. 1t was very pretty
little house, with rambler roses climb
ing the veranda pillars, but he could
not understand what Connie should be
uulnS lnoto-dllus at the doorway SIG
met him. He paused breathless before
her radiant face. There were not re-
!. prOaches, surely, in that evident hap
piness.
"Come in," said Connie She laughed
> as he had not heard her laugh since
: those first joyous days long ago. Then
at sight of her husbands wan face, she
put up her arms to draw him down to
! her.
l ''Dear," she murmured, welcome
this is home at last"
: Richard held her close. "You mean
. =" he asked eagerly.
y "That I have never really had a
= home" said Constance. always there
- were servants about to order things
gardens too well kept to enjoy. Here
there is but one small servant whom
shall order, Richard, and garden full
f Of flowers that grow alone. l chose
S The place and moved in while you were
n away. The rest of our furniture shall
be sold. It has been such fun to plan
IS things out. Father wanted to help
r. but I would't let him. This is oul