Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-01-08

Il word. lie was cedIly tLhAAiS
her TO Halstead TO trade.
The fact that her husband did not
ALWAYS keen his word was due to the
reason that he had more magma.
ton than either money or oppoftunltN.
TYe was always promising and seldom
fulfilling Emmy had felt that this
latest nromise of all would go the
WV of so many others, but, no, he was
actually keeping it. Furthermore, he
had promised to take her to see an
old friend who still had faith in him
and had kept up a certain amount OF
intimacy through many years. TINS
friend. George Vail, had prospered,
married and lived in n grand house,
the glories of which Fred Hall never
tired of relating over and over again
80 Emmy. Fred Hall always received
a hearty greeting from his old friend,
and saw no reason why Emmy should
not receive like welcome from hand
some Bernice Vail, his wife.
So while the morning was still
young they logged along behind the
freshly FURNISHED bay in the dish
wheeled buggy which Emma had
washed with her own hands. Her
Bingham dress was as neat as she
could make it. Emmy's shoes We're
$3.50, and as for a hat she had none.
IDuL liIel Stl6 lttN0T NbIC ii li1l at
home. Her thick chestnut hair, cooled
smoothly into a great wad at the nape
of her brown neck. was covering
enough for any head, and her skin
could not be more clear tanned than
it was. And she had no coat, but
neatly tucked under the seat of the
buggy was a plaid shawl which would
wrap her up nicely when they re
turned in the evening.
Tired, Emmy?" Fred asked, looking
round at her.
Tired" Emmy's eyes flashed.
Tired but happy, Oh, Fred, if we
ever get out Of debt then I'll get
rested"
She wished she could help him, but
the most she could do was to stay
faithfully at home and wash and
mend, and cook and feed the pigs and
chickens. and ride the farm nipple
ments, thus saving the hire of an
extra man.
When at last they came to the big
house with the wide lawn she wish
ed she did not have to go in with her
husband A woman came to the door.
She was about Emmy's age and she
was blonde and pretty.
This is my wife, Mrs. Vail" said
Fred. I'm leave her with you so
you can get acquainted while | have
a talk with George. Where is he?"
Bernice Vail knew Fred. She had
seen him before and she knew from
her husband that he must receive fair
treatment. But she lifted her chin at
Emmy.
You may step in there, she said,
opening a door. MY husband is In
the study"
Il know where he is" said Fred,
and he clattered away.
Emmy entered the room indicated.
She had never seen such a room. She
caught her breath and stared. Such
shining and velvet elegance frightened
her. She turned toward Bernice and
found that she was alone. Doubtless
Mrs. Vail would be back in a minute.
She sank into a deep, soft chair and
saw with dismay that her shoes had
left a trail of dust on the wonderful
red carpet.
At the back of the room thick cur
tains stirred in an unseen breeze. And
from behind those curtains were
voices. One was Bernice Wallis, cold
high pitched voice. The other voice
was low and gentle.
Ibid you have caller, Bernice,
asked the gentle voice.
she is no caller of mine" Ber-
nice spoke holly. II should hope not
Her husband is just some old hanger
on of Georges. You know how George
is, always lending and never getting
paid back. This woman has come to
town to spend the money he borrows,
1 suppose"
And she doesn't know? Poor
child"
Child! She is as old as l am and
just the color of-of my skirt" The
skirt was a brown. plated skirt, as
poor Emmy recalled it.
Where did you leave her. You had
better go and talk to her. She will be
lonely"
'Why, Mrs. MacKnight, If you
aren't the queerest,' BeTnice laughed.
But there was silence.
Emmy had a queer feeling that she
curtains. Then suddenly she Sprang
up and ran out of the house.
She ran and ran, and finally she
came to little hill. 1t was a park,
but she did not know that She
climbed up to where there was bench
and sat down. She could only say 'over
and over:
"A hanger-on who never pays back!
That is what my husband is. What
am I?'
Nothing else but just that mattered.
And she could not cry over that, be-
cause she was too hurt. What a cruel
thing for that woman to say, especial
iy when--when she had everything
and could afford to be generous.
This, then, was her happy day. She