Evening Republican, Volume 23, Number 70, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 March 1920 — REFORM OF ROXANA [ARTICLE]

REFORM OF ROXANA

By LINCOLN ROTHBLUM.

। , 1926. by McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) Roxana was one of those dimpled, bewitching, tantalizing girls one equid not help loving. On each one of 7 her rosy fingertips she could recite in coquettish fashion the name of a devoted, withal unhappy, suitor; but too It must bd admitted that Roxana often found need to exercise her most winsome tricks of cajolery to win back the smiles her teasing tricks had chased away. It was Dick, nicknamed the “Faithful,” who suffered the’ most and complained the least. He loved Roxana. But perhaps nothing tried his patience and—good temper mere than Roxana’s curiosity. It was to her mother that in desperation he appealed. “What can I do?” he asked dejectedly. “Last night she unwrapped a box I had with me when I called.” “And ” prompted Roxana’s mother. “Oh, pshaw,” blurted Dick, “it contained some underwear I had just bought.” Dick fancied he saw Roxana’s eyes twinkling merrily at him. “What can I do?” he repeated. Roxana's mother glanced up, lips twitching in a smile she could ill suppress. “I’ll tell you,. Dick,” she finally answered in an encouraging tone, “you can either give her up—or marry her.” “I’ll marry her!”

And marry her he did. Already on this fine July morning her honeymoon of four saccharine weeks seemed like a beautiful dream. Just that week a roll of films had been ruined by exposure to the light, when Roxana could no longer resist the temptation to learn if it contained six or twelve exposures. But Dick was big enough to realize he must not permit this failing of his wife tb mar the placid and unruffled tenor of their existence, and he gradually ceased to resent the tampering with his mail. There was no more the unconscious act of ripping open the envelopes as Roxana handed him each night his letters in exchange for a kiss. Red summer had merged into a fall resplendent in a galaxy of yellows and browns, and Dick trudged home from the depot through the cooler atmosphere so pleasingly refreshing after the long hot day just over. The day’s work had been particularly and depressingly enervating and he looked down the road toward, his home as he shifted the heavy satchel he carried from hand to hand. “Wonder what’s in it?” Roxana’s curiosity danced excitedly high as she saw her husband coming up the garden path carrying the grip, Making all sorts of pretty fuss about him, Roxana finally gave verbal vent to her thoughts. “Dick what have you in that grip?” But his words did not carry effective weight. “This satchel,” he said as he laid the small valise against the wall, “contains material for a suit.”

“Oh, do let me see,” interrupted Roxana, “I’m so anxious to look it over. I’ll bet it’s beautiful.” “No, it isn’t, and that’s just why I don’t want you to look at it.” Roxana frowned. “It’s an off-color proposition,” Dick continued, “and it’s just as well you know nothing about it.” Indeed I Roxana was quite displeased with her husband and firmly decided that if he was getting material for a suit she ought to have been consulted. There the satchel lay on the floor against the wall, its black leather surface seeming to aggravatingly tantalize her with the secret it concealed. The echo of his footsteps along the garden walk had hardly died away when Roxana, with no qualms of conscience, sat herself on the floor beside the valise and with hairpin and scissors commenced operations upon the lock. Not a note of vexation escaped her as tools of feminine inventiveness bent beneath th.e unusual task allotted them, and as she applied herself with patience worthier of a better purpose. Not until the debris of two pairs of manicure scissors, one pair of tailor’s shears and an easy gross of hairpins lay broken and bent before her did results reward her efforts.

At last! The lock was pried. In a ailment she would know all. The catch was slipped and the sides of the satchel flew open, revealing—a mass of papers 1 Roxana's surprise of disappointment angered her. “Oh, that Dick should have told me an untruth,” she sobbed, and smarting tears sprang to her eyes. Roxana squatted Indian fashion before the bag overflowing with legal looking letters and greedily read. A puzzling expression was succeeded by one of deep interest, and as a young girl with her first romantic novel, Roxana read on, oblivious to everything save the sheets before her. And then understanding dawned! “Why—why,” she gasped, “Dick did tell the truth. It is off-eolor material for a suit —evidence for an ugly lawcase.” And then eame penitent contrition. “Qb, how unjust I have been.” And Dick, arriving that night tired from a strenuous day at court, was too happy to see his lovely wife, dressed in her prettiest gown of rase-, tinted voile, to notice the tears glistening so suspiciously in. her eyes. But as he tok his mall from the tray he looked at her in loving surprise.. His letters were unopened ! “Dearest,” he whispered. -' %Jever again 1” promised Roxana. .