San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1925-08-08

Myrtle told me this story on herself.
She told il with n whimsical twist of
her big, kind mouth, and twinkle in
her wise. efficient eyes. If there was
also a throb in her heart she didn't
let on. Myrtle's not that kind.
"You know how Fred is" she chuck
led. We've been married % years
last March, and / don't think Fred has
grown n day older in that time. OF
course he looks older. Those big, iron
gray men always do look frightfully
mature-but actually Fred is soppy
sixteen.
II might as well acknowledge that
he's been a bit hard to manage for the
last year or so. Since the children
went away we've been living more and
more quietly, and hardly go anywhere
outside our small circle Of friends.
Fred doesn't take to it kindly. He
does love the limelight-most men do,
| suppose. So he's apt to make up
for the quietness at home whenever
We do go out. Grabs the floor and
keeps it--you know what talker he
is. OF course, he's very popular, but
even the most popular man can get n
bit Of bore. Particularly when he
tells the same old stories over and
over.
"Well, the other night We had lit
tie set-to over it. We were going to
the Grants, and / knew they had some
relations visiting them and / didn't
want Fred to seem foolish. So told
him, as kindly as I could, about some
little things-monopolizinS the con-
versation and telling the same stories
you know, the sort of thing every
husband does and every wife endures
until she could almost scream.
"As l say, told him as tactfully as
possible. Fred, DEAR said, PLEASE
give other people a chance to talk
tonight. And DON'T tell that gondola
story again. Everyone here knows it
by heart
YOU'D have thought that had sug-
gested numbering him, the way he took
on. Isn't it amazing how petty a man
can be to the woman he's been mar
ried to for 26 years? He acted like
spoiled child.
"Well, finally he cooled down and
we started. He sulked all the way
there, but as soon as we went in he
Il sct ludI Ut
was all set for one of his show-off
evenings. What l said hadn't done a
particle of good. In fact. he seemed
bent on proving to me that / had been
all in the wrong.
There was a young girl there-a
niece of Catherine Grants. One of
those pretty, silly, pert little things
you meet everywhere now. From the
minute she saw Fred she was perfectly
fascinated. She followed him around
and, of course, Fred was delighted. He
simply let loose and spread himself
all over the. place. l caught him eye
ing me several times with the sort of
'ah-ha, smartyn expression that you
sec on a bad small boy.
Then he decided to sing. Fred had
n good voice once. but he's lost it since
he grew stout. He realizes that, but
doesn't want to acknowledge it even to
himself. So he sings whenever he gets
n chance-and it's terrible. OF course,
he simply couldn't resist such n Won
derful chance to do the Bedouin Love |
Song. ! could have gone through the |
floor. 1t was awful. But that little |
idiot of n girl swan up to him and
looked at him with one of those dying
duck looks and told him how Perfectly |
Beautiful it was, and heaven knows
now much more tommy rot.
you can imagine how much effect
I've had on Fred since that night. II