The Monmouth inquirer., 1926-12-30
Antoinette, Her
Antiques
BY LUELLA GORDON

time. A few years ago she had been
enthusiastic to her finger tips for old
furniture.
Now she was golf mad. She had
accumulated a house full of antique
chairs, tables, beds. high and low
boys, spinning wheels, carved chests
and sideboards. And there they were,
neglected, despised almost by their
owner now that she had taken to
the golf green's.
''Tm going to have SALE" she
announced to her mother. I'm sick
and tired Of this old, dismal, gloomy
furniture"
you're as tickle as the wind, my
DEAR" answered her parent. 1T was
merely the fact that your grandfather
left you his old hermit house back on
the other lot that put the idea into.
your susceptible head. knew you'd
tire of it. And"
"Yes-T know what you are going
to say, mother. You know am too
busy to sell it off myself and that !
am going to ask you to attend to it."
One of the first persons to ask to
see the antiques was a fragile but
wistfully beautiful woman. She
seemed to be looking for certain
sort of drop-leaf table. She had
lovely voice and instead of leaving
her to the mercy of the salesman
who had been put in charge of the
business, Mrs. Raven walked about
with the stranger herself.
Tucked back in a corner of an ante
room was table Of the kind de-
scribed. The two women came upon
It just as the fading light of day was
playing on its polished surface.
"Oh," exclaimed the little woman
That's the table want. Let me
look at it, please"
She felt It; she almost caressed it.
Then, opening up one Of the drop
leaves she bent down and looked be-
meath as If to see what sort of support
1t had. When she raised her head
again her exquisite gray eyes were
Drumming with tears.
Mrs. Raven did not know what to
say, what to do. where to turn. She
felt like an intruder in a sanctum.
Then, in a moment, having dried
the tears, the stranger spoke. 'I'm
sorry but--that table was once mine.
It was the first thing we bought after
we were married We were both
young; we both wrote for a precari-
Gus living and when we sold enough
of our stories to buy bit Of furniture
we clipped them out and pasted them
on the table, or chair or whatever it
was. There" pointing underneath,
sis a part Of an article we sold in
order to buy this table"
"And your husband?" Mrs. Raven
was moved to ask, timidly.
"We-that is-we do not live to-
gether now. He took night job
on newspaper and-we began not
TO agree, somehow. Our little home
was-spoiled. I've got on my feet
since, writing, and I've looked every
where for this table. Could l buy
it?" she asked. wistfully.
I'D like to give 1t to you" said
Mrs. Raven.
But the stranger insisted on paying
for the table and left her name and
address when she paid for it. She
apologized again for her weakness.
The footsteps Of mysterious fate
led Ned Washburne to the sale Of
furniture in the old hermit lodge of
a late citizen of the town. What
he was looking for. aside, perhaps,
for color for story he was writing,
he could not have told you
Mrs. Raven met him and took him
about He took desuItory notice Of
the furniture itself but In the stories
behind the acquisition Of certain bits
he showed vivid interest.
'sAnd this table was sold yesterday
to one of the loyeliest little women
have ever seen. She had had a
tragedy in her life-if the breaking
up of her home and the loss of her
husband could be tragedy to the
modern woman" said Mrs. Raven
s'Thss table had been earned by her
young husband and herself In their
early married days and" turning up
the leaf to display the bits Of paper
still clinging to the wood, here Is
the story they wrote together"
Ned Washburne had gripped tall
bed-post for support. His head was
whirling.
why" Mrs. Raven stood aghast
at the white face Of the man.
He raised kindly hand and put 1t
on her shoulder. '%That was-my
wife. This is our table,"
eCome into the house." begged Mrs.
Raven.
The man followed her across the
garden and into the comfortable H.
brary. There he told her what the
little stranger of the preceding day
had told her-and more. He did not
spare himself.
After an hour of Suggestions, plans,
surmises as 20 what could be done,
Mrs. Raven was smiling when she
said goodby.
Ned Washburne and his still be-
iavod wife were TO begin houSlnenino