Jasper County Democrat, Volume 14, Number 23, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 July 1911 — A Test of Honor [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A Test of Honor

If Recoiled at Last on Him Who Made It

By STELLA ANDREWS

“It’s my experience,” said Paul Markham to his friend Tom Ellison, “that you can never tell what a woman is going to do.” “You meau a girl.” “Maid or wife, a man must always be on his guard for fear of getting mixed up with her.” “Do you mean. Paul, that if you •were married your wife would try to flirt with me, your friend?’ “She might.” “And do you mean further that I should have to be on my guard to avoid treating you dishonorably?’ “Tom, you’re the soul of honor, but I wouldn’t trust you or any other man If I had an attractive wife who would make love to you." “Then all I have to say to you is that you don’t know me.” The two friends were separated soon after this and did not meet again for several years. They corresponded for a time, but Ellison drifted to South America, and they lost track of each other. Then Ellison sailed for New York on his way to Chicago. At the railway station he was making his way to the train when he was somewhat roughly seized and twirled half around. ‘Taul!” “Tom!” “Going on this train?” asked Paul hurriedly. “Yes. Are you?” “No. I’m* here to see my—manager off.” “You don’t mean to say that you are married?” “Men usually marry some time, don’t they. Are you?’ “No." “You don’t object to taking charge

of a lady, do you? How far do you gor “I’m for Chicago and would be only too glad of a companion. But why didn’t you send me your wedding card?” “Wedding cards! How should I know your address? But we’ve only time for the introduction. Come along." They hurried into a car. Near the door Markham paused and said to his friend: “Wait here a moment. I wish to say things about you too complimentary to be said in your hearing.” Ellison waited while Markham advanced to a lady sitting near the center of the car, said something to her to which she evidently assented, then beckoned to his old friend to come on. Ellison when he met the lady was delighted at the prospect of having what would otherwise be a tiresome journey pleasant by a very attractive woman. The train moved off slowly and Markham hurried out with a “Goodby, old boy! Wiune ’ll give you my address. Write me.” There are more uncomfortable places than a parlor car on a through railroad train. The noise is largely shut out, and what one hears has a soothing effect An ever changing panorama Is observed through clear glass windows, and the chairs are luxurious. Tom Ellison and the lady nnder his care, seated side by side, chatted, read thp newspapers. dozed, ate fruit, and thus the first day of the journev passed delightfully. In the morning they breakfasted together in the dining car, still shooting over bridges, rounding hills, moving on the margin of lakes, now and again darting into the heart of a forest. Surely there is no more attractive place to break one’s fast of a bright morning than sitting beside the window of a dining car, and with a pleasing companion it is delightful. During the second day of the journey a disagreeable fact would occasionally thrust itself upon EUison. Whenever the lady spoke of Panl he was reminded that she was in possession of another. For the first time in his life be found himself harboring

bitter feelings toward Jiis old friend. He was out only surprised, but ashamed. Aa the day wore on he was seized with alarm. Mark haul’s wife was coming oat to him with confidences, with emotions which, though they thrilled him, seemed altogether too sacred to be imparted to any one not near and dear to her. • • * * • • •

In a month Ellison was back in New York. He had not written Markham and had no intention of writing him. Indeed, he bad engaged passage for South America and was waiting" for the steamer to sail, dreading the while that be might run across his old friend. On entering his hotel one morning the clerk tossed him a note. He looked at .the superscription and lost some of his color. It contained an invitation from Paul Markham to dine with him that evening, the missive ending with “Why didn't you write, old man? If it hadn't been for Winnie I wouldn’t have known anything about your movements." So he must face the friend be had injured in thought if not in deed. How could she after all that bad occurred between them have enabled her husband to discover his arrival in New York? He thought over every possible excuse, and. though all were possible, none would serve the purpose. On his arrival at Markham’s house Paul's friendliness, affection even, cut him to the heart. “Come right in, old man; Winne’s expecting you with the same pleasure that I am.” He led the guest into the drawing room, where he was received with a telltale blush rather than cordiality. "Oh, why,” moaned Ellison to himself, “did she put him on to my being in town?” “What the deuce is the matter with you two?” exclaimed Markham. “You look as if you had been doing something you are ashamed of.” The lady’s blush deepened, and an expression of excruciating pain passed over Ellison’s face. “Well, come into dinner,” pursued the host. “I’m going to get it out of one or the other of you before we’ve finished.” Though the words struck Ellison with terror. Markham did not seem to consider the matter as serious. The host rattled on during the earlier courses, evidently delighted at seeing his old friend; Winifred appeared ill at ease, and Tom looked as if he were sitting on a hot gridiron. Finally the host said with apparent seriousness: “Tom, do you remember our conversation some years ago about a man being obliged to beware of another man’s wife?” Ellison breathed an almost inaudible “Yes.”

“And you poohpoohed the idea that you would ever have to struggle with yourself under such circumstances to treat me honorably:” Tom’s face expressed agony and was red as a cock’s cpmb. “Well, it looks as though Winne had been tempting you and you had fallen.”

“Paul!” Winifred looked a command to desist

“Now, see here, Wnne, didn’t you on that journey to Chicago propose to my friend to run away with you?” “Paul, you have no business to”— “Never mind that. Didn’t you?” “Yes, but”— ‘“Now, Tom, how did you receive the proposition?” “Whatever the fault, it was all mine,” faltered Ellison. “It ,wasn’t any such thing. You’re a man of honor. It was the woman’s fault. Such things always are.” “I assure you, Paul,” protested Ellison, “your wife was simply carried away by a passing emotion.” “My wife?" “Yes, and a lovely wife you have too.” J T have a wife? Not much! I wouldn’t trust one of ’em out of my sight.” Ellison looked from one to the other in astonishment. Winifred was both blushing and laughing. “This has gone far enough, Paul,” she said. “Please explain.” “For heaven’s sake.” exclaimed Ellison, “let me out of ttlß er I shall collapse !” “Well, old man,” replied the host, “you do look a trifle rattled, and I’ve had all the fun I am entitled to at your expense. Know, then, that I remembered your high toned words about resisting the temptations thrown out by a friend’s wife, and on meeting you in the station on the eve of your de parture for Chicago I saw an oppor tunlty to show you that I was right I introduced you to my Bister as my wife and told her to go for you. She did it beautifully.” Beads of perspiration stood out over Ellison’s face. He took out a handkerchief and wiped them off, then emptied a glass of wine that stood before him. This was followed by a look something between love and reproach at Winifred, after which he went on eating his dinner. “Paul,” said Winifred severely, “never again will I lend myself to another of your abominable pranks.” “Not till I ask yop to ‘do’ another man,” was the complaisant reply. “All I ask,” put in Ellison, “is that if the opportunity occurs you will do it all again.” “Anything replied the lady by way of atonement, “is granted.” “Very well. Saving your brother’s presence, will you marry me?” “Got him!” from Paul. “I knew you could do it!” Tom Ellison changed his ticket to one for a later date, and when he sailed Winifred Markham sailed with him as his wife. “Who’s been done,” be asked bis brother-in-law, “you or If • -

“WHAT THE DEUCE IS THE MATTER WITH YOU TWO?”