Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-12-22
The Passing of Mr.. Whidden Is a
Strange Affair, and This Is One of the
Reasons My This Particular Story Mas
Gi0en One o. the 0. Henry Memorial
Ae0ards-Another Complete Prize Story
mn Appear in the Magazine of Next
Sundays Star:

pens you don't even care enough to step out
into the street and see what 1t is"
How do you know it's Important" Mr..
Wmoden inquired, being inclined, albeit un-
wisely. to display little spirit
How do you know it isnt?" Mrs whidden
Dack-nred. How will you ever know any,
thing unless you take the trouble to find out?"
MIR. Whidden increased his legs and then
crossed them again.
II suppose you expect me to go down and
get that paper" cried Mrs Whidden. whose
voice was now rivaling the news-venders, with
all I've got to do-the Dishes and the baby's
10-o'clock feeding, and. all right! I'll gol
I'll walk down the four flights of stairs and
get the paper, SO that your majesty won't have
to trouble yourself" There was fine sarcasm
in her tone now.
Mr.. Whidden knew that it was the end For
seven years this exact scene had been repeating
itself over and over again. If there had only
been some slight variation in his wifes tech
mic. but there never had. At first, he had
tried to be frightfully sporting about it, as
Stunning the blame at the first hint Of trouble
and doing whatever was demanded with all
possible grace; but that pose and it had not
been long before he admitted that it was a
pose, was worn away by process of erosion a
process that had kept up for seven years
seven years OF writing things in ledgers in an
airless Office on Dey street; seven years Of
listening to those endless seedlings and COM
plants at home. Whatever of gallantry had
existed in MIR. Whidden's soul had crumbled be-
fore the persistent and ever-increasing waves
Of temper. He know that now, if he gave in,
he did so because of cowardice and not be-
cause of any worthily chivalrous motives.
He threw his paper down, stood up, and
walked into the bedroom to get his coat Little
Conrad was asleep in there, lying on his
stomach, his face pressed against the bars Of
the crib
Over the crib hung a colored photograph of
the Tai Mahal, lovely, white building that
Mr.. Whidden had always wanted to see. He
also wanted to see Singapore, and the Straits
Settlements, and the west coast of Africa places
that he had read about in books.
He was thinking about these places and
wondering whether little Conrad would ever
see them, when his wife's voice rasped at him
from the next room.
Are you going or will have to go?"
I'm going, DEAR" he assured her, in the
manner of one who is tired.
well, hurry! Those men are a block away
by now"
Mr.. Whidden put on his coat looked at little
Conrad and at the Tai Mahal and then started
down the stairs
There were four flights of them, and it was
raining hard outside.
BurchalD sat sewing on the front porch
OF pleasant house in respectable suburb
1t was a brilliantly sunny day, and the
hydrangeas were just starting to burst out into
proflse bloom on the bushes at either side of
the steps.
And do you mean to tell me you never
heard from him?" asked Mrs. Lent, who was
also sewing
mot word" replied Mrs Burchal without
rancor. mot one word in IL years. He used
TO send money sometimes to the bank but
they'd never tell me where it came from"
Il guess you amt sorry he went Fred
Burchalps good man."
You'd think he was a good man all right
II you could've seen what I had before NV
goodness When 1 think of the seven years I
wasted being Roy Whiddens wife!"
Mrs. Burchall heaved a profound sigh
Amt you ever sort of afraid he might show
up?" asked Mrs. Lent.
mot him And If he did what of it? Fred
could kick him out with one hand tied behind
his back. Fred Burchall's real man."
She sewed in silence for a while
Iy2ESZT 0S1e2oEn1>Q ~ = a. 20
81 ss'asS ~! &; 8