Jasper County Democrat, Volume 19, Number 65, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 November 1916 — TOE MAHOGANY ROOM [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

TOE MAHOGANY ROOM

A Mystery Is Happily ' Unraveled

By CLARISSA MACKIE

Miss Dorinda Page ushered me into the large east bedchamber. “1 must put you in the mahogany room.” she apologized. “All the other rooms are filled just now, but you will find it cool and pleasant here, and it’s quiet too.” “It’s delightful. Miss Dorinda, and 1 know 1 shall fall In love with that bed.” I approached the mahogany four poster and ran my finger along the fine carving. “I suppose this is a Page heirloom?” “No; this room is filled with other people’s heirlooms. All of this furniture has been bought from time to time and placed in this room; hence Its name.” Miss Dorinda’s slim figure moved sedately from highboy to ancient dressing stand to the spindle legged table, rearranging a dimity cover.

wiping a speck of dust from a caudlestick and moving the vase of fresh flowers out of the sunlight. All at once she sank into a big rush bottomed chair and became confidential. “My dear, there is something odd about this room. Sit down in the rocker by the window there. 1 hope you won’t mind sleeping here." 1 was puzzled by her manner. “You mean it is hauuted?’’ 1 questioned laughingly. “Np, hardly that. Let me tell you about it. Every article of furniture in this room was purchased from a different family, and each time it has been under stress of some- sort. The bed came from the Crosbys. It belonged to Grandmother Crosby, but the family became hard up and parted with it. I needed the extra furniture to put in this room, so ! bought it. The highboy came from the Glenn family. Ralph Glenn went away, the family broke up. and I bought'this highboy. The table came from the Orvises and the dressing table from the Chases and this chair from the Winnicks. Something queer happened in each of those two families, but I am not at liberty t» say what it was. I thought I would tell you the history of the furniture, so that you might be prepared to see all sorts of spirits at the mystic hour of 12.” She looked at me from her bright, keen eyes, as if testing the quality of ray courage.

“l always read until midnight Jdiss Dorinda.” 1 explained frankly, “and if spirits want to walk in lamplight they won’t disturb me a particle." Miss Dorinda smiled cheerfully. “1 am glad." she said simply, “that you are so sensible. Mrs Stone occupied the room one night and declared she didn’t sleep a wink for the whispering. I told her it was the coffee she drank before she went to bed. I will send up a tray of supper. Miss Cameron. Getting here so late in the evening, you will want a good rest." The supper came up and was eaten before a small fire sputtering on the wide hearth, for a gentle rain was falling outside, and it was cool in the large mahogany chamber. I prepared leisurely for bed. turning “back the snowy, lavender scented sheets with a delightful sense of anticipation in the dreamless slumber I should enjoy. Contrary to my usual habit, I did not lie awake and read. On the contrary. I extinguished the lamp, flung a window wia« to the soft wet air and went to sleep, watching the flickering firelight against the polished mahogany furniture. I had not noticed the striking doc* in the room, but it was there on the mantelshelf. Ten and 11 had chimed from its depths, but I had slept undisturbed. Suddenly I sat up in bed. awake, alert, with the last strokes of IS sounding in my ears. The Are was burning brightly, and I could see that the hour was midnight A little shiver of dread went over me. I could not help listening intently for those whispering voices which had disturbed Mrs Stone the night she occupied the mahogany room. There was not a sonnd except the ticking of the clock and the gentle fall Of rain on the tin roof of the porch

wtSwrt. Ones the fire hlaaed m • raindrop fell down the wide throat of the chimney, and it was so like a whisper that I Jumped a little As I lay down once more on my pillow I became conscious of a peculiar sensation. It was true that I heard no voices. that no wraitbHke forms crossed my vision, yet I seemed to be among animate things, l was receiving information from some unknown source. I, stared at the highboy, counted the glass 'knobs* of the drawers, assured myself that there was nothing but the reflection of the firelight on the polished front, when all of a sudden I saw—

Out of the polished surface there grew a picture—dark shadows for a background of shrubbery, a winding path bordered with flowers, and standing there was Miss Dorinda Page as she appeared in the large painting in the drawing room below—Miss Dorinda of thirty years ago, fair and sweet and very shy. She was timidly offering a rose to a youth, who looked at her with eyes of despairing adoration. He bent and kissed her in sudden, passionate farewell, turned and disappeared in the shrubbery, leaving her, white and trembling, to sink on a garden bench. But be had carried the rose away. As Miss Dorinda leaned her head on her rounded arm the picture died away, and there was nothing save the firelight flickering on the front of the highboy and the ticking of the dock, interrupted by the fall of-rain on the roof.

I was not afraid now. I was filled with pity for the sweet, patient little woman who bad so sturdily taken up the burden of wage earning when she had been left alone. Her house of “paying guests” was always filled, and I, who had known her a dozen years, had by great good luck.been placed in the mahogany room and thus stumbled upon the romance in Dorinda’s sad life. The face of the young man was not unfamiliar, and I was sure that I bad seen it, older, graver, somewhere. The story of the highboy was clear to me now. It liad belonged to Ralph Glenn's people, and it was for bis sake she had purchased the heirloom. Ralph Glenn must have been the young man of the picture.' “Glenn—Glenn—where have I heard that name?” I questioned to myself as I dropped off to sleep, and the answer came as the morning sunlight awoke me to consciousness. “Dr. Glenn, of course, stupid!" 1 did not see Miss Page nntil after breakfast. Then she sought me in the big veranda, where I was studying the railroad time table “Not going home so soon?” she exclaimed. with a glance at my occupation. “I hope the mahogany room has not driven you away. You slept well?” “Beautifully." I assured her. "I must run home for a day. and then I shall return to lay the ghost of the mahogany room.” As the stage crawled it»way up the long hill to the station I saw in my mind’s eye my home city. On one of the handsomest streets there was a row of brownstone houses given over to physicians’ offices. On one of the brass plates was the name “Ralph Glenn. M. D.” I had met Dr. Glenn once. and. as I recollected his features, he might have been that same youth who had taken farewell of pretty Dorinda PageTbere was no harm in trying. 1 thought, so I made my way home and straight out to the office of Dr. Glenn The physician was in. and I made my chronic neuralgia the excuse for my visit When the consultation was over, still I lingered in the office. He. quiet grave, middle aged, clever looking, watched me as if questioning my delay. “I am going away for a fortnight” I explained. “I’m going down to Putwick. Perhaps you know the village?” His face paled, but he smiled politely. “I was born there,” he said briefly and then looked as if he regretted« the confidence.

“Then you must know Page homestead?" I said rapidly. “That is where I am staying. It is the most charming old place, and Miss Dorinda Page is the most charming hostess.” “Miss who?” he asked brusquely, looking down en me from his superior height. “Miss Dorinda Page.” I replied innocently. “She is the last of her family and the sweetest little woman in the world. She”— “I thought she married Hugh Graham,” he burst out. sinking heavily into a chair. “They sent me a wedding invitation. Here it is!” He pulled opep a drawer, and from a leather covered box he drew forth a yellowed envelope containing an engraved announcement of the wedding of Dorinda May Page and Hugh Montgomery Graham on April 1. 1890. I read it slowly. “I’m afraid you are the victim of a Joke, an ill timed and fateful April fool trick.” I said regretfully as I pointed to the date. “Whoever perpetrated the joke did not spare expense. As a matter of fact, Hugh Graham married Miss Dorinda’s cousin. Hannah Page, years ago. long before V knew them. You never went back to Putwick ?'

“No; I stayed away after that" *Tm going back to Putwick tomorrow.” I suggested. “So am I.” be exclaimed, rising to h!s feet with sudden energy. “Just as soon as I can put my affairs in order here Pm going. You are sure—sure that I better go?” He lohked at me wistfully, and I could see that he, too. as well as Miss Dorinda. had yet to live out that interrupted romance. “Sure as—as lam that the ghost of the mahogany room has been laid,” 1 said eagerly, but he was not listening to me. His thoughts were fay away in that southern garden where he would once more meet Dorinda Page.

“MISS WHO?” HE ASKED BRUSQUELY.