Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 February 1912 — An Expensive Lady [ARTICLE]

An Expensive Lady

By JOANNA SINGLE

(Cop/right, igtx, by Associated Literary Prate.)

The Folwellß’ French car purred expensively at the door, and the French chauffeur, Gustave, aristocratically bored, looked Immovably ahead and awaited his young mite' tress, reflecting that he would have to break the speed limit if she made her train. Her trunks had gone to the station the day before. The dachshund on the back seat of the tonneau yawned In the face of the beautiful morning in early September. ' Finally Miss Katherine Folwell appeared, perfect in black broadcloth. She was palpably not intended for life’s grim realities. She would have been out of place in any setting less than luxurious She knew this. Just a year ago she had told David Robertson so, and as he had never been sure he even wanted to be rich, he dropped out of her life so effectually that it hurt She had not thought he would take her at her word. So -life bored her, which was why she had promised to go abroad with the Cheneys—she hadn’t seen May since their college days, though they lived far out in some suburb and.had only lately inherited enough money to justify‘trips—and leaving their two children. Gustave straightened and gasped — politely—as his mistress took her seat and gave her order. “To' the country—anywhere! I’ve given up my trip,” she said. He touched his cap, and they were Off. -- ■» "I couldn’t have endured it,” she said half aloud” —the old round of getting away from yourself in dirty foreign places. I’ve got to live with myself anywhere I go, and I like it here as well as any place. The country is at least peaceful.” The car slipped up the avenue, past the clangor of downtown, through the residence district, from woodsy suburbs toward the river The sun was hot, but the fresh wind cooled her cheek. Finally they were gliding slowly past pretty little cottages, wide' apart, flowersurrounded, almost real country. Then, without warning, the car stopped with a jar, and Gustave, all apology, was out trying' the machinery. He ended by crawling beneath the motor, and after much tinkering, came out hot and' explanatory. She was deaf to explanations. She didn’t care. "Pardon, but the sun is hot. It 'may take an hour to mend. Will Ma’amselle seek a cool spot? That .garden, perhaps T” He waved with iGalllc grace at a cottage they had passed where children played in a garden. She soothed Gustave’s excitement with a smile and wandered up to the place. This was the sort of 'thing David Robertson had dreamed she might share with him, a bungalow guarded by a private hedge and is sentinel row of flaming hollyhocks. She, too, had been among dream possessions then she saw the children, blonde, rosy little people, and brought herself up with a 'start She would not let herself includechildren tn herreverte of 'David. His Income could never have {brought the dream of his love into 'reality. Katharine spoke to the little ones hanging over the gate. “Good mornin’,’’ answered the six-year-old immovably. "’Lo," placidly returned the four-year-old boy. "Does you love hollyhocks!” Katharine said that she adored them. Then she explained about the broken-down pfotor and asked if she could come m their garden a while. 'Would their mother care? They were suddenly solemn. "Mother’s gone to the end of the world,” she said quaintly, "and Mrs. ificott is drefful sick and Auntie Bess is to her house and we’re to stay right here so’s she can see us till nurse comes home.” It came in a breathless sentence, as the child clung to her little brother. , <U*Tm sorry 'bout the car, an’ you can come in an’ play with us If you’ll •be good.” She sank down on the green grass, removed her hat and tried to woo the thy boy her a kiss. He ■would not, but broke a handful of hollyhocks without stems and put thom gravely in her lap. The girt, Janey. **■ hanging over a,bed of TOignonette like a white butterfly. When Gustave’s hour and more had passed. Katharine looked up from her clumsy telling of the story of the “three bears,” to hear more excuses. He could not repair the machine. It would have to be towed tn. Would ma’amselle take a train, or ■wait several hours untn he ■ came ■with the other car? He stood waiting, and a sudden whim possessed her. . V'-'.' “I will come on the train. Don’t come back for me. I may stop to make a visit Tell Marie not to expect me.” She would net be robbed of this new amusement—she seldom had been with children, and the sweet little experience was bringing Iter a queer happiness. With much prompting she - told some of the familiar chljd-qtories, and then, wondering at heroqifi - made up fairy stories witfran ease that brought the Mttto one* snuggling dose to her. n<h.y told about thenmdves

"Father had to take mother to the end of the world,” said David, the boy. “And now you’re here, we can go to Uncle Dee's and see the ducks." The children were on their feet in a moment, pulling her up by W hands, drawing her after them through a gap in the hedge into a sunken garden, exquisitely Japanese, with a pool where floated mandarins with clipped wings. Everything was delicately perfect—even the brown bungalow off to the left was a deUghtv;= The children • threw themselves upon her, hugging her. “What’s your name?” they asked, and she answered, -. “Kittle, because I love soft places,” and she threw off her big plumed hat David rose and began to stick the pink hollyhocks into her crown of sunny hair, and time passed. Peace came into Katharine’s mind, a Presently the boy announced, with masculine force, that he was hungry. She saw that the noon hour had passed, and rose. They pulled her back through the hedge toward their own cottage. She would have gone anywhere. "Uncle Dee lias only beer in his ice-box, and he borrows lemons from us,” said the girl quaintly. "He don’t keep house —and he hasn’t a wife at all. It’s lonesome 1 for him. “It’s too bad," replied Katharine. “He might get one.” “He was going to, but she was too ’■pensive,” sighed the girl. Kit thought of David Robertson, and the humor died out of her eyes. Had she condemned him to a life of loneliness? The boy rambled on explaining. r ” ’Spenslve means what you can’t afford to buy, like a wife, or a pony,” he sighed ecstatically. At the dodr of the cottage they met Aunt Bess. She stared, and then she and Katlinrlne flew into each other’s arms. * “Elizabeth Norton! Where did you spring from?" “May and Tom imported me to guard the kiddies while they go round the globe—thought you were going, too? Haven’t seen you in years! Heaven must have sent you today. The nurse was called away, and Mrs. Scott, next door, is ill. I must go back and help, Will you go in and feed yourself and the babies and promise to stay all night’with me?” Katharine promised. "Go in and get into one of May’s house dresses and keep house —though I’ll wager you never lifted a cup! I must go.” Katharine entered her old friend’s room, and presently came out radiant in a pale blue wash-dress to play with her friend’s children. She remembered wistfully that she might have married their uncle and been their real aunt. Where was David now? She did not even know —probably gone "to the end of the world” also. Then she lost herself in simple service, a luxury she had never known, the sweetness of feeding little children. Her past society life seemed suddenly futile, empty. And while thebabessleptawsythe late afternoon she came to her real, sweet, true self. She knew where happiness was to be found, and if David Robertson had been in her world she would have swallowed her pride and sent for him. . Presently it was after 6, and she was eating bread and milk with the kiddies when she • heard a whistle. The children ran like wild things, and came back dragging in a big, deep-voiced, handsome man with young eyes and dark hair gray at the temples, "Here’s Uncle Dee, Kittie!" they shrieked. "Here he is!" She stood white and overcome before David Robertson. Her eyes burned like blue flame, and then fell before his devouring glance. "O David,” she faltered. “O David! —I am so—sorry ’’ In that second she had seen all his hurt and loneliness; and something melted the hardness of her heart. She flung her arm up around her eyes with a childlike movement Then she began to cry in his arms whilebe kissed her. The children, overawed, held tightly to one another. It was long before they even remembered ♦W children. Then Unde * Dee stooped and gathered them into his arms. “Now I’m going to have a wife ” be explained grandly, waving a hand at Katherine. Little David looked her over doubtfully. "Ain’t you. too—’spenslve?” he queried. "Not—any morel” she declared joyously. “It costs me too much to live without the only things—l really want.”