davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01

TO order car. sir?" he said, with his
hand upon the door. II know her
!adyship would be only too pleased.
It's long step to the manor, and If
you ii forgive my saying so, sir, you we
good deal on your shoulders just
now"
Tallcnte caught glimpse Of the bleak
moorland and of the distant hills, wrap
ped in mist. The idea of vigorous ex :
ercise. however. appealed to him. He
shook his head.
I'D rather walk, thanks" he said.
Its matter of five miles, sir
Tai ente smiled. There was some i
thing in the fresh. cold air wonder
fully a!luring after the atmosphere of
the room he had quilted. He turned
his coat collar up and strobe down the
avenue.
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01
when the following interchange took

when the following interchange took
place. .
"Hulla, father. Do you like my
new shoes? What is jazz?"
"Well, Marietta, it's a kind of
music where the beat is irregular"
"Why is it?"
Because people like it that way
the time changes"
what is time, father?"
Remembering Mary's assertion
that he didn't try to answer them,
he paused moment to consider, but
Marietta went on: 81 was called out
in front of the class to make a
courtesy, father. Where's mother?
Why did she go away?"
"She hasn't gone away" said
Eliot, disengaging his mind with
difficulty, from the problem of
time.
"she took a bag with her. Why
did she, father?"
well see," said Eliot, thinking
to himself that she had probably
taken the wash to the laundry, as it
was Saturday, and sometimes, if
they were short sheet, and some
one coming to stay He fished
her letter out of his pocket. He had
put off reading it for fear it would
ask him to do something that would
have interfered with his moment of
solitude. He opened it, with Mar
ietta sitting on the arm of his chair,
and Doris, aged four, balancing on
his crossed feet.
The letter said:
Dear Eliot-Something strange
has happened that makes it i'm
possible that you and l should
ever live together again. I want
to be alone for few days and
think over how | can arrange my
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01

diately not even Eliot himself,
though it was only afterward that
he remembered her silence.
When he came home that after
noon a note from Mary was lying on
the hall table-a not unusual occur
renee. She had probably gone to
the garden club. She was punctil-
ious about letting him know her
plans. 1t was the afternoon of the
children's dancing class. The house
was deserted. Eliot's spirits rose.
He would actually sit down in his
own sitting room and read-or
think-or do neither, without any
one saying, what have you been
doing an day, dear" or, "Did you
remember the butter" or, "Why
must I, father?"
He did it. He clasped his hands
behind his head and looked at the
ceiling. The little country neighbor-
hood was silent. 1t was the first
moment of this kind that he had had
for months. He thoroughly en-
joyed it.
He began to think about little
parody he was trying to write for a
newspaper-he had been trying to
do it at odd moments-in the train
or in his bath--for several weeks.
The occasion that made it appropri-
ate had long since passed, but he
wanted to finish it if he could. With
in a few minutes, however, he heard
the voices of his daughters return
ing. He wished the class had lasted
little longer.
Yet he was not an unnatural
father and when they entered the
room, flushed with exercise, elegant
in their sheer white dresses and blue
bows, he felt proud of them and glad
to see them. He loved them even
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01
AND HERE 1T CONTINUES
CHAPTER III

7 CNCHEON was a pleasant, even a
Aluxurious meal. for the Woolhanger
chef had come from the ducal nouse-
hold. but it was hCdgcd about with re-
strants which fretted Tallcnte and rem
dered conversation monosyllnbic. ItNwas
served, too, in the larger dining room,
where the table, reduced to its smallest
dimensions, still seemed to place n
formidable distance between himself and
his hostess. A manservant stood behind
Lady James chair, and the butler was
in constant attendance at the side
board. Under such circumstances. con-
versation became precarious and was
confined chiefly to local topics. When
they left the room for their coffee, they
found 1t served in the hail. Tallentc,
however, protested vigorously.
"Can't we have it served in your
sitting room, plcase'' he begged. 1T
IL impossible to talk to you here. There
are people in the background all the
time. and you might have callers"
She hesitated for moment but yield
{ ID the point. With the door closed ant
the coffee tray between them. TallentC
drew a sigh Of relief,
~ hope you doEt think I am ,
nuisance" he said blun'ly. but, afte
all, came down from London pur
posely to see you.'
II am not so vain as to believ,
that" she answered.
4 1T is nevertheless true and ! thinl
, that you do believe II. What have
done that you should all of sudder
build fence around yourself?"
THAT may be- she replied, smiling
"for my own projection. l can assur,
you that ] am not used to tete- a : tet,
Iunchsons with guests who insist upoi
boyln9 thelr own way In everything"
q y utq4ss y It is good thing fol
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01

To his first shock a feeling Of
anger succeeded. How could any
one treat another fellow creature
like that-let alone husband. And
to leave him in suspense for days
And the children-suppose anything
happened to the children?
They came to ask him to sit with
them while they had supper and
read aloud. They had asked him
this almost every evening, since they
had been able to speak, and he often
refused. But this evening he con-
sented. 1t was like a reproof to
Mary. He chose Thackeray's "Rose
and the Ring" to read to them. He
hadn't read it for years. 1t was a
magnificent piece Of narrative. He
read it we'll, too. At that place
where the naughty Count Hoggi-
marine stepped into the arena, and
the lions rushed out saying, "Wurra,
wurra, wur-rra-" he looked up to
see two level spoons arrested in front
of two opened mouths, while four
eyes dilated with excitement.
After the children had gone to
bed he had long uninterrupted
evening-one of those evenings in
which he could have finished a dozen
parodies-except that his whole be-
ing was taken up with anger and
speculation. He walked up and down
the sitting room an evening, and
then went to bed-but not to sleep.
How could Mary have behaved so?
he began to imagine their interview
on Monday--his side of it at least.
About 4 o'clock he found he was
going to use the phrase "My little
motherless girls"
BY morning, however, he had dis.
carded it as sentimental. The feel
ing behind the words was there
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01

Sam was a bachelor. He had come
over to dine, and after dinner the
two friends had gone to a moving
picture. Mary was busy putting the
children to bed. The picture, as it
happened, dealt with the life of a
young married couple; and, though
all the walls were rough plaster, all
the doorways were arches, and all
the trees eucalyptus, breakfasts and
babies and bills seemed to be much
the same on one coast as on the
other.
"It's a dull picture" said Sam,
the bachelor, lightly.
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01

"It's a dull subject" said Eliot,
the married man, bitterly.
This opened the door to discus
sion one the less frank and intimate
because it was carried on in general
tiles. Eliot began by quoting that
terrible sentence from Middlemarch:
"T never loved any one well
enough to put my head into moose
for them it is a moose you
know"
Sam agreed, but wondered whether
every man as he grew older (Sam
was twenty-six) did not want
home Of his own and at this point
an irresistible desire for self-ex-
preston came over Eliot. He re-
membered how he had once been
free-free not for evil things, but
for adventures that were often moth
ing more than intellectual-free to
miss a dozen suburban trains, if he
wanted to finish book at the club
free to go to the theatre without
asking himself whether the money
would not have been better spent on
the children's shoes-free to wander
all night on the bridges, thinking Of
some futile paradoxical philosophy,
without owing any one an explana-
tion of his irregular hours - free
even to give up his job if it became
intolerable to him-free to hazard
his future in any way he felt in
clined. This was the aspect Of mat
rimony that no one explained to
you. You were told about giving
up your club or your favorite cigar,
and perhaps a good tailor, but no one
made it clear that your privacy and
your leisure and your liberty to
choose must go, too.
"And to some people," Eliot said
judicially, as if had nothing in COM
mon with people like that, "to some
people life becomes an intolerable
bore when those things go. Of
course, that does not apply to us,
because Mary is an exceptional
woman
"Oh, very" said Sam smiling to
himself in the darkness of the the
atre, over the fact that any one
could call Mary exceptional.
THE conversation made little i'm
l. preston on him, but in Eliot's
mind it created a clear mental pic
ture of his situation that he could
not forget.
Never, it seemed to him the next
morning at breakfast, had his two
daughters asked why and when so
often. Mary, neat and pretty, at the
head of the table smiled and poured
out coffee. She generally answered
the children with a patience that
seemed to Eliot miraculous but mis-
placed. She thought that the young
minds were stirred by intellectual
curiosity. But Eliot could never
understand why, if this were true,
the children never listened to the
answers.
"They listen to mine, dear" Mary
would reply, "because I really try
to explain to them. You only try
to put them in wrong for asking"
"Oh, l don't question, my dear,
that you are better worth listening
to than I am" Eliot would say,
"only-"
That was the pattern conversation
they usually had upon the subject,
but this morning Mary did not an
swer every why and when - she
seemed not to answer any one imme-
~A~ a n
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01

however. IL WoS oS'
would take them to church. He had
never taken them to church before.
He went and brushed his high hat
He looked very tall walking down
the little lane to the paved avenue
on which the church stood. The
children, small and fluffy, held each
a hand. His little motherless girls
Marietta chatted as they went
"You never went to church with us
before, did you, father? You're al
ways so tired on Sunday when
mothers home. The first time Doris
went to church she thought the min
lister was God-all children do.
did myself. Why do clergymen
dress like that, father? Why dc
they?" -.
If Mary had been there he would
have answered, "Why do you wear
ruff1es on your skirt-because it's
the CUSTOM" and Marietta would
have replied: "Why is it?" and then
the conversation would have been
taken up by him and Mary as to
whether Marietta was seeking in
formation or simply trying to thrust
herself into the foreground. But
now Mary was not there, he felt
obliged to try to answer his moth.
erless little girl, and she. actually
appeared to try to understand him
so that they were talking rathe,
earnestly by the time they reached
the church door.
ND so It went on. II wasn't
"A that Eliot had never before
found his children's pocket handker'
chiefs, or even blown their noses OF
put their hats on the right side be-
fore, but always he had done these
things as a favor to Mary. But nov
he did them because there was nj
one else to do them, which made II
somehow all very different.
In the afternoon he did not play
golf, partly because he did not wan
to answer questions as to Mary.
whereabouts, but partly because III
became involved in hymn Marietts
had been most incompetently com
mitting to memory for six months.
He was tired in the evening-h'
looked back on the day as hare
one, yes, and not a pleasant one
either, but he had not been bored.
He went eagerly to the Office th'
next day, and waited nervousl!
Through the early hours of the morn
ing. About twelve Mary came. On,
glance at her told him that she wa!
neither crazy nor playing a joke o.
him. Her face was the face of {
woman who had been through TIVE
days of suffering. They went int
his private Office without greetings O.
any kind and shut the door.
Mary was direct. 81 sat just il
front Of you the other night at tn
pictures," she said. II could no
help hearing"
There was a pause. Eliot's mint
rushed back to the conversation will
Sam, and his heart felt like a fall
ing elevator. He recalled things h
had said with relish and bitterness
hidden from Sam, but obvious t.
Mary.
He looked at his wife. Her eye
were blazing. "And yet," he said
81 love you, Mary"
81 thank you for such a love,
she answered, "the dull little woman
at home-no, you didn't say that
quite. Suppose you had overheard
me telling Virginia or Caroline tha
you bored me to death-that l.,
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01

LIE BECAME aware that Marietta
IL had been saying for a long
time: "What does mother say,
father ?"-"What does mother say,
father?"
He put the letter back in his
pocket. ooh, nothing, DEAR" he an
swered. "She had to 60 away for
Sunday"
"Why did she?"
There was a question he couldn't
answer. He had no idea-no ex-
planation-no possible theory oc-
Cured to him. What could have
happened? Had he done something?
Or rather, for his conscience was
absolutely clear, did she imagine he
had done something to hurt her?
Had she fallen under the spell of
some sudden romance. One read of
such things happening, but Mary!
No. Had she gone mad? He re-
membered now that she had seemed
silent at breakfast, but not porten-
tously silent. He questioned the
children as to the events of the day.
Had any messages come? Had any
visitors been there? No, nothing.
1t was almost incredible that you
should live with a woman seven
years and be unable to form even a
hypothesis as to why she had left
you. Not that he admitted she had
left hint was just some misun-
derstanding.
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01
THIS BEGINs THE STORY

AndrcD TG'ientc. political leader. has
married for momcv. His 'cW' accented
him TO JorWdrd ambitions TO title. she
has a cold aud selfish temperament. aud
Is intcrcSted IN his secretary. Anthony
Pdlliser who has Just diSdpp'GrCd. She
has a sudden suSpic OF that her husband
Is responsible for the disGppcdrdnce. LADY
Jane Pdrtin0tor, u beautiful aud tCcdl-
thy artStocrdt. interested in labor prob
lens. is a neighbor tcho interests An
dre,O greatly. Androp has missed soms
volunble political papers, and ~ an Gr0n-
mert iCith PdlNs'r on the edge Of q
ci;1 has struck him. The secretary trll
over. Andrsw is Kept mdcr observation
by Inspector Gillidn. Of the police. ste
phen Dnrtrey. tho sclt.sGcrthctng Labor
party leader. trih ;MlWer. a, co.Grse-
grained radical. and Nora MidN. a
charming and brilliant feminist leader.
offers Tdllente tho premiership. He
Joins their party. ignoring INDUCEMENTS
Of Horlock. the Premier ~ 0nice. his
refusal Of a pecrdOe causes his trtfe TO
threaten dirorce Nora, HtnN srpldimS 8?
htn the philosophy OF the neIr party aud
also her dislike for the intrusive. Mhler.
vhich he shares. TdlIcnte. back homr
otter drrorOin1 10 run for PGrliGm e7rt,
Nrpldns The political Situdtion 10 Lady
jane. rhoSe beauty aud brains both at
tract him.
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01

stopped reading because YOU y
talked of anything but houssh2
ing details" -
"That's most unjust" put
Eliot. II said matrimonp-not -.
"Oh, let's be honest" ansvs
Mary, shaking her head, as n II
were shaking out salt water fro,.
wave that had passed over her, ~
marriage is me, and mines You. n
it's duller for me than it is for IN
Il don't even get to town everv ~
and see a lot Of people, and vet n
not bored-I know what you're thi,i]
ing-you think I'm not bored I.1
cause I'm not as clever as ~
but"
"I wasn't thinking anything Of ~
kind" said Eliot, and he imapis,
that he was telling the truth.
"Of course, you were, but Il
isn't the reason. The reason Is a.
no one can get more out Of life a.
he puts into tor out Of maria
either. You're not bored with ".
business--and heaven knows III
dull one-every one agrees to that
duller If possible than your on
home-but 1t doesn't bore you. VI
not? Because you put a lot Of youS|
self into it."
| HERETOFORE a, sense Of -
- had confused Eliot, but now y
saw light.
"Isn't my work here Just what
put into the homer" he asked.
"After Office hours, what do ~
put into it?" said Mary. "You Cor
home like a king expecting ever
thing to be arranged for you-or
guest, who mustn't be interrupted n
the children-your own childr,a|
mind you-"
"The men in the outer Office vi
hear you, if you speak 50 Loud
II hope they will" said M,,
"They are probably kings and hon,
guests, too. They probably thhi
they have an inalienable right 70 II
bored by their women and children.
too."
"Well, after ALL" said Eliot, 1T
not crime to be bored"
"Isn't it," she returned. "Nvv
listen to me, Eliot. I can imagn,
staying with a man who was IN
faithful, or stole or beat me, but
cannot imagine under any circun
stances staying with a man whou
I bored. Why should I? Good.byi
"Hold on, Mary. Where are vi
going?" He would like to hiW
spoken with the tongue Of men al
angels, but he was distracted by
peculiar mental state. He felt
was impossible that he should es
have been bored with this vital
violent, irritating, handsome crsa
ture, and yet he knew quite wd
that he had been.
"Oh," Mary replied airily, III
going to my mother's-or on q TIL
II really haven't decided" q
"And are you ever coming back!
Eliot asked with a sarcasm that va
meant to bite.
Mary took a step toward hin
away from the door which she ha
almost reached. EYES," she sale
"I'm coming back, and III tell 20
when I'm coming back. When yout
run the house so long that you fee
uncomfortable if the food isn't good
when you feel guilty when the chill
dren interrupt me, when, in othe
words, Pm the house guest-that'
when I'm coming back" 4
And she went out Of the office AM
slammed the door.
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01

r o fs ~$ AGss s3 y 'F. : si ss: f II
Maey ndR Auh f m Im"0T G
adS Sef' f'B Sellers
Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-01

To be continued Monday
copyrioht 1883. 6elI sysdsoss" '"~
The evening herald. [volume] (Albuquerque, New Mexico) 1914-1922, 1922-01-01

720 citizens of Albuquerque who have bought hotel stock
until it hurt, stood ready to sign their names to this adver-
tisement, but they realize that the only name that counts
in the hotel campaign as the sum required grows smaller,
and the work of getting it grows harder, is the name of a
new subscriber on the dotted lire.
ALBUQUERQUE HOTEL COMPANY.
The evening herald. [volume] (Albuquerque, New Mexico) 1914-1922, 1922-01-01

So loyal workers in the hotel campaign, who have never quit al
never will quit until the total of $350,000 has been subscribed
ready to sign their names to this advertisement. But when it was
the newspapers they were out soliciting subscriptions and we ddr
to call them in. These men have sacrificed their own business ii
for many days in the interest of Albuquerque. They will cont
do 90; but why force them to further sacrifices, when a quick dete
effort will finish the fund? SIDNEY M. WI
Evening star., 1922-09-30
FILE Abatement PLEA
IN WAR-FRAUD ACTION
Three Alleged Conspirators Seek
to Invalidate Grand Jury
Charge.

Everly NJ. Davis and Alexander W.
Phillips, both Of New York, recently
indicted by the special war fraud
grand jury with Ernest c. Morse, for
mer sales agent Of the War Depart
|ment, with conspiracy to defraud the
United States in connection with the
sale Of the Old Hickory Powder Plant
at Jacksonville. Tenn. have filed a
plea in abatement in the District Su-
preme Court.
The alleged unauthorized presence
In the grand jury room Of John G.
Winston. described as a stenographer
in the Department OF Justice, is as
signed as the reason for the plea.
Through Attorney Frank j. Hogan
the indicted men claimed that the law
|forbids the presence Of any person
in the grand jury room with the ex-
ception of the witnesses. tho United
States attorney and his assistants and
the Attorney General of the United
States and his assistants. 1t Is claim
ed that Winston is not included in
any Of those exceptions. but that he
only acted as a stenographer, taking
notes of the testimony.
Davis and Phillips tell the court
that they did not learn sooner Of this
alleged presence of Winston because
they were not permitted to go before
the grand jury rs witnesses. although
they had offered to do so and to waive
all immunity. E. c. Morse also Joined
in the plea.
Evening star., 1922-09-30
VETERANS CONvALESCE
At "SOLDlERS' REST
sLest We Forget" Committee
Maintains Camp in Gull
peper County.
pepper County.

Groups of veterans from Walter
Reed Hospital who are in need of a
convalescing period are being period
ically sent to an ideal Soldiers
Rest" In Culpeper county. Va. it is
announced by Mrs. John Allan Dough-
erty. Mrs. Dougherty is the active
chairman Of the Lest we forget
committee which has done 80 much
to keep the boys in sweaters, over
coats and other clothing they need.
These veterans, Mrs. Dougherty
says. are permitted to stay at the
Soldiers Rest" as long as necessary
for them to get back on their feet.
Attractive cottages have been erected
there and as many as two score can
be accommodated at the same time.
Following are the names of nine
of the boys who enjoyed several
feel free from any bad effect of their
soldering: Frank B. >Desz, Thomas
w. O'Connor, Jose Santizo, Howard
Wardlaw. Harry Lecht, Paul Cassidy,
Clarence Freeman. Russell Suders and
Richard Kennedy.
The members of the Lest we for
get" committee here are: Honorary
chairman. Mrs. Harding: vice chair
man, Mrs. Thomas F. Walsh: chair
man, Mrs. Dougherty: treasurer, Ro-
land S. Robbins: publicity, Miss Janet
Richards; secretary, Mrs. Samuel L.
Wtnslow; executive committee, Mrs.
George Ehle. Mrs Charles c. McChord,
Miss Mary Gwynn; compensation COM
mittee. Nine. Grouitch, Mrs. Charles
II. Patterson; labor committee, Col
James A. McChord. Capt. Walton A.
Miller, Mrs. Frank S. Hight; vacation
committee, Mrs. Bernard 3. Jones.
Evening star., 1922-09-30
The Farmer.

The farmer has more kinds of
grief than any man / know; if he
has pleasure, it is brief, and long
drawn is his woe. My Uncle Hiram
tills the soil. he hustles day by day,
and half the time his earnest toll is
labor thrown away. This year he
had field of corn that grew to
wondrous size, and he surveyed it
every morn with gladness in his
eyes. The rains arrived in timely
showers, the sunshine followed
then, the cornstalks grew through
daylight hours, by night they grew
again. My Uncle Hiram's spirits
scared, he watched the green corn
wave; "this fall" he said, 81 can af-
ford haircut and a shave. The
way that field is looking now, the
harvest will be fat; I'll lift the mort
gage from the COW, and buy my wife
a hat" He thought of many things
he'd do when all that corn was
shucked, when it was run the shelter
through, and to the market trucked.
Then came a hot wind from the
south, that turned bright green to
gray; the corn, as in furnace
mouth, burned up and blew away.
My Uncle Hiram viewed the wreck,
crop gone, beyond recall; two briny
tears ran down his neck, he sighed,
and that was all. Oh. oftentimes
this sort OF crime the husbandman
must view; but for laments he has
no time-he has his chores to do.
(Copyright.) WALT MASON.