The Washington herald., 1920-08-17

two lost marshmallows, a book
on the diVination of dreams. In
the last was a woman's black
satin hair bow. which halted
him, poised between ice and fire.
But the black satin hairbow also
is femininity's demure, imper-
sonal, common ornament and tells
no tales.
And then he traversed the room
like a hound on the scent, skim
ming the walls, considering the
corners of the bulging mating
on his hands and knees. rum
maging mantel and tables. the
curtains and hangings. the drunk
en- cabinet in the corner. for
visible sign, unable to perceive
that she was there beside. around,
against. within, above him. cling
ing to him, wooing him. calling
him so pOignantly through the
finer senses that even his grosser
ones became cognizant of the
call Once again he answered
loudly: Yes. dead" and turned,
wild-eyed, to gaze on vacancy,
for he could not yet discern form
and color and love and out
stretched arms in the odor of
mignonette. Oh, God. whence that
Odor, and since when have odOrs
had a voice to call? Thus he
groped.
He burrowed in crevices and
corners, and found corks and
cigarettes. These he passed in
passive contempt. But once he
found in a fold of the mating
a half-smoked cigar, and this he
ground beneath his heel with a
green and trenchant oath. He
sifted the room from end to end.
He found dreary and ignoble
small records of many a peri
patetic tenant; but of her whom
he sought, and who may have
lodged there, and whose spirit
seemed to hover there, he found
no trace.
And then he thought of the
housekeeper.
He ran from the haunted room
downstairs and to a door that
showed crack of light. She
came out to his knock. He
smothered his excitement as best
he could.
will you tell me, madam" he
besought her, who occupied the
room 1 have before I came?"
Yes, sir. l can tell you again.
Twas Sprowls and Mooney, as 1
said Miss B'retta Sprowls it was
in the theaters, but Missis Mooney
she was, My house is we'll
known for respectability. The
marriage certificate hung, framed.
on a nail over"
What kind of a lady was Miss
Sprowls-in looks, I mean?"
why, black-haired, sir, short,
and stout, with a comical face.
They left a week ago Tuesday"
And before they occupied it?"
why, there was a single gem
tleman connected with the dray-
ing business. He left owing me
a week. Before him was Missls
Crowder and her two children,
that stayed four months; and
back of them was cid Mr.. Doyle,
whose sons paid for him. He
kept the room six months. That
goes back a year, sir, and further
I do not remember"
He thanked her and crept back
to his room. The room was dead.
The essence that had vivified it
was gone. The perfume of
mignonette had departed. In its
place was the old, stale odor OF
mouldy house furniture, of at
mosphere in storage
The ebbing of his hope drained
his faith. He sat staring at the
yellow, singing gaslight. Soon
he walked to the bed and began
to tear the sheets into straps.
With the blade of his knife he
drove them tightly into every
crevice around windows and door.
When all was snug and taut he
turned out the light. turned the
gas full on again and laid him
self gratefully upon the bed.
1t was Mrs. McCoors night to
go with the can for beer. So she
fetched 1t and sat with Mrs. Pur-
dy in one of those subterranean
retreats where housekeepers fore
gather and the worm dieth sell
dom.
II rented out my third floor
back, this evening" said Mrs.
Purdy, across a fine circle of
foam. "A young man took it. He
went up to bed two hours ago.
Now did ye, Mrs. Purdy.
ma'am?" said Mrs. McCool, with
intense admiration. You do be
a wonder for renin' rooms of