The Other Man.

Evening Post, Volume LXXIII, Issue 70, 23 March 1907, Page 10

The Other Man.

Slowly tho winter day was dying,/ and already gloom of a bloak twijight was filling the room. They drew their-! chairs close to the fire, and Vrail stretched out his hands to the grateful^ heat. A gust of wind rattled the sleet sharply against the dripping window. Vrail rose and stood for a moment looking out at the leaden sky. Babette roused herself from the comfortable depths of her chair, "Come back to the fire and have«some< tea," she said. "This weather givesi me the blues." i "I wish I might lay my own private paitjcular blues to the weather," said Vrail, bitterly. "What else?" she said, lightly. "You'll feel different to-morrow, when/ the sun shines again." "Will the sun shine to-morrow?" he asked. "If it does, it won't be the^ same sun." "Tommy Vrail," she cried, in exasperated tones, as sho stamped the floor with one little foot, <( this is- not a, funeral." "Not yours, any way," he said, as he resumed his seat near her. "You and the weathor are a delight-, ful combination this afternoon !" shev mocked. "I can't send the weather home, soI'll go myself," he said half rising. "Sit still, foolish!" she said. "Will you have one lump or two? 1 ' ''My temper needs all there is in the bowl, I fear," he said, humbly. "It does," she said, grimly. "Your mood is villainous." "It is a recent development," ho said, suggestively: "And possibly not incurable," she supplemented. "Oh, there's a cure," he said eagerly. "So I've heard before," she said, and ■ laughed softly. "Bab," he said, turning to her, "isit your mother?" "I generally manage my own affairs," she said. "Then he isn't a millionaire?" he asked. "Poorer than a church mouse," she confided. ' "Must have brains, then?" he pur-». sued. "Intermittently," she said. "What ' on earth did you ever fall in love with him for?" he groaned. "Just because I shouldn't, I suppose," sho explained. "He's the most improbable, impractical, charming dreamer I ever knew. Ho writes the most deliciously foolish sonnets-j — " "I wrote you sonnets, too," he reminded her. "His arc really charming," she said v locking away. "I see," he said coldly. There was silence for a time. ■ "I hope you'll be very happy," he said, at length. "Now, that's like tho old Tommy," she said, warmly. "You'll probably forgqt me," he com*plained. "Nover," she said stoutly. "And I shall never forgot you, Bab,! 1 he said. "In fact, there aro a thousand and one things I shan't forget." She was silently staring at the fire. "We've had some jolly times, anyway," ho observed. She nodded. "The day we went fishing — remember it?" ho wenfr on. "You wanted the waterlilics, and I got beyond my depth. How you laughed, you -heartless little wretch'!" "You looked so absurd, Tommy," she said, gifigling at the recollection of him, ' r wilh your clothes all mud, and your hat gone, and your hair all dripping ! And you swore, too, and it sounded funny; beca~u.se the water got into your n-.outh, and made you gasp and sputter." ■ v "I got the lilies, though." "Of course you did," she laughed. "And the day we went tramping," ho said. "Groat Scot! Didn't it ram! Do you rcmomber that house on the Cloyerly Road, where I asked for shelter for you, and they told me if I'd take my wife round to the back door, the servants would feed us? And we fed and dried out there like a couplo of tramps. Wasn't it ripping? Sho was silent. "Suppose you'll have to forget all, that now?" he said. "I shall always remember those times,, she said, quietly. "You won't remember them as I do, though," he said. "Poßhaps not," she sighed. "Look here," he said, suddenly, "I need some more tea. This thing is getting on to my neryes." She filled up his cup and looked at him archly. "Poor old Tommy !" sho said softly. "Hang him !" he burst out. "He's an interloper." "Hush !" eho said. "You mustn't say that," "Of course not," ho said. "J must conceal the murder in my heart, and{ congratulate him." He rose and stood with his back 'to .the fire. "I'd better be going." ho said. "So soon?" she asked. "My temper ig getting hold of me again," ho growled. Ho pulled on his coot and picked up his hat. Then ho turned to the girl by the fire. "Awfully pleasant afternoon of it," ho said, formally. "Whon shall I see you again?" she said. "I don't know," he replied." I'm going away." "Away !" There was a trace of dismay in her, own voice. "Yes, away — to find him." "Foolish!" she chided. "You don't know what ho looks like. You don't even know hb name." "I'll find him and choke him!" he &ajd, tersely. x She burst into a peal of laughter. "Tommy, you idiot, you mustn't cr — choke yourself. It would bo suicide, you know." It was ithe turning-point of his life. "How?" ho gasped, and stood staring at her flushed cheeks and downcast eyes. It was dark when ho finally left. Tho sleet still camo down in long slanting lines, and the wind howlea dolefully. "Ripping weather!" said Vrail, a? he stood at the door turning up his coat-collar. t "Isn't it?" said the girl.— Home ■Paper.

Ella : whatever could havo persuaded Maud to marry young Jimpson? Was she in love with him ? Stella : Good gracious, no ! Sho married him because e]ie. thought Ada wanted hijm