A WAGER.

Western Star, Issue 1294, 6 March 1897, Page 2 (Supplement)

A WAGER.

He was an artist, not unknown to fame as an illustrator for a weekly paper. His olever drawings were much sought after by discriminaUffg editors, while his well-built, welldressed models wore & boon to the fashion seeker. How Trayner always menaged to be ahead ratber than behind the style was a mystery to his less fortunate brothers of the pen. She waß a society blosßom—budded two years past, and now in the fall possession of that ennui that is the peculiarity of a full blown society rose of unimpeachable family fair to look upon, always faultlessly dressed. No entertainment was complete without the presence of Miss Kyder. They met at Baxter's Cinderella dance, and Miss Eyder could not fail to be flattered at the rapt air with which he regarded not only herself, but the novel confection from Worth that draped her fair form. At the rush that preceded Lsnt they encountered themselves at inumerable teas, receptions and balls. Through the forty days of society denial and rest he dropped in regulaly for a cup of tea and a dish of gossip. ' "What am I to do V he asked petulantly, one afternoon when {bey were the sole occupants of the cosy library. * Here is a letter from Brown and Green, demanding more style. Heavens and earth ! What do they expect ? Am Ito go from tailors to milliners like the writer of a fashion column for a Western newspaper 1 I'm prepared to go great lengths to put marmalade on my daily bread, but to make a dressmaker of myself —the brain and blood of the Trayner family object.

Mi9B Eyder sipped her tea in silence. Then touching the slice of lemon with the tip of her spoon, thoughtfully,— ' What do you think of my gowns 1 They are generally correct ?' • Fashion always seems to follow you,' he returned gallantly. J. wish I could side track the fickle dame and look her up till she unfolded all her secrets for the next six months.

'I was just thinking,'said Miss Ryder, slowly,' that I might pose for jou.' • Miss Ryder !' gasped Trayner, joyfully. ' It seerus selfish not to,' she went on '• Now, don't be so grateful I It will be a business arrangement,' gayley, ' and I will donate roy salary to the Easter offering. Seventy-five cents an hour, isn't it?' • .. 'And never will seventy-five oents be more cheeefully paid,' exclaimed Trayner in a transport of delight. So it was arranged, and twice a week, MisH Ryder spent the morning in Trajner's large, well-lit studio. It was a charming room, full of the costly trinkets and bric-a-brac that an artist gathers about him. The walls were waihsootted to the coiling and hung with pictures and sketches of artists, known and unknown. Before the fireplrce at the further end of the room stood an oaken aettee with cushions of crimson velvet A quaint tea table with the service picked up here and there in the artists travels stood on the other side. A suit of armour gleamed from the corner. Old swords, Indian clubs, tomahawks, and other implements of war hung over the fireplace. Carved cabinets full of pottery, from the rough Aztec to the daintiest Sevres, and chests of old time costumes. Priceless bits of tapestry were flung about with princely prodigality. The tables were littered with portfolios, drawings, ink bottles, knives, and cardboard. A hound stretched himself lazily before the fire, while a fat pug lay by her master's side.

Miss Ryder sat in a curiously carved chair her face resting lazily on her band and her eyes on the thread of steam that issued from the silver kettle; her maid in the background, nodded her head sleepily. Trayner worked rapidly blocking in the heavy shadows with a facility borne of long practice, as he talked telling one delightful story after another. ♦ What am I to illustrate to-day V asked Miss Ryder. ' The monotonous failure of the funny paper in the number of meaningless jokes on women, her ways and means. Is a man never ridiculous ?' ' Often,' promptly replied Trayner. 'So often that it has ceased to be a joke.' 1 A poor excuse,' disdainfully. • Really, it makes me furious to see women ridiculed in eveiy magazine and newspaper paragraph! Any number of men have made bulls worse than the one you will tack to that unoffending drawing. . • Try to recall a few,' he implored. * The bare text will be worth a dollar apiece.' ' I will, decidedly. • Man has been worshipped so long it was time he was seen in his'true light.' ' And you are going to serve as a showwoman ?' with an incredulous laugh.

' You don't believe lam ? lam positive that next week I shall have to listen to more frivolous remarks from men than you can possibly hear from women. Bulls that will rival anything in those,' with a contemptuous glance at the copies of comic papers that littered the table.' * Want to make a wager V absently, working up the detail of a sleeve that would distract a village dressmaker, «Indeed Ido I' eagerly. ' I'll imperil my Lenten savings. But I know I'll win.' ' Sure f'witha keen glance over the big drawing-board, ' Remember, a man thinks before he speaks. . If you lose I make the penalty,' he looked at her critically—' a hundred and twenty pounds of flesh and blood, I'll not be stranded on the rock that shipwrecked old Shylock/ And what do you balance the scale with V she asked, a rosy blush covering her cheek and brow. ' Myself and all my possessions. Not equal in quality but superior in quantity.' Throwing down his pen, he seized her hand. * Wait,' he said, nervously. * I haven't lost yet. And it seems to me the result is the same whoever wins.

' You are afraid 1' derisively. • It isn't that,' stammeringly, 'but—' ' But me no buts. The wager is made, and St Anthony, mj patron saint, be on your guard 1 The honor of manhodd is now at stake.'; The weekjrolled slowly by. Miss Ryder won a reputation as a student of the inane specimen of mankind, who, as they were not present at the construction of the earth, are doing all the oan to assist its progress. Mr Tiayner could be seen dancing attendance on the less strong-minded feminity, and now and tli»n flourishing a large notebook before the questioning eyea of Miss Ryder. ' Well,' he asked as he shoot; hands with her on the eventful day in the library,' how many fools did you find V

1 There's no harry ?' she said nervously. ' Wuy is it a woman always wants to put off the dreaded minute ? Now my courage is screwed to the sticking point. But haste makes waste,' drawing a chair before the glowing grase. ' Been to evening service V with a glanco at her plain gown of grey serge, with the heavy silver cross that hung from her waist. • I wonder if your prayers were far or against me V 'Mr Tray nor ?' she exclaimed with a crimson flush. ' Yes ?' inquiringly. ' I quite thought you were going to say something. No ? What a JQlly rite this is—so homelike and domestic.' ' I think we bad better proceed to bußiness/'deaperaiely. ' I agree with you,' and he took a notebook from his pocket. 'You begin." ' No it is only.fair for the weeker side to be heard first.' •Ladies first I' was the maxim that was my daily food as a boy. Shall I D 8 false to my early training ?' 1 We will waive ceremony,' turning the leaves of her Kussia leather book with Its silver corners. ' Afraid !'quizzically. ' Courage runs in our family, so here is a choice bit gleaned

from the conservatory at Wilson's, where I heard Penelope's foreign experiences. She first gave me the itinerary of her voyage, and when I asked how she enjoyed Geneva and what she saw there, said with most engaging frankness,' We didn't she much of Geneva. Xou see it was fete day of Senior Jaun Baptist, a man who had done a great deal of good for the town, and all the galleries were closed.' Match that if you can ?' Match that if you can, Most men have heard of John the Baptist/ scornfully, ' Here is one on the same subject—foreign travel,' answered Miss Kyder, ' Tom MaceNoodle informed me- you know he was the oraok linguist of his class—that while he was in Germany he was afraid to speak German for fear of spoiling his accent. His. accentl' she repeated disdainfully. W hat do you think of Mr MacNoocle ?' ' God made him therefore, let him pass for a man. Next 1'

• I haven't any more,'she confessed shamefacedly. ' • Saint Anthony, at last my prayers are answered. ' Well, go on,' she interrupted very impatiently. ' I can't 1 I really can't 1 You have my own ewe lamb. I've interviewed dozens of brainless buds, and this is the sum total of it.' « Didn't I tell you V triumphantly. « You needn't hurrah ? How many have you 7 It seems to me a tie. Only, as Tom has proved not to have brains enough for a donkey, much less for a man, I think we had better cross him out, and—and——' significantly, • Yes ?' with a bewildered glance. • Then I win I' and he slipped an eager arm round her slender waist. ' l don't see how,' she began indignantly, striving to ralease herself. ' Louise,' he said hurriedly, • You know I have loved you ever since I saw you at Baxter's. ' Tell me darling is there any hope ? You do love me I' as he read her averted face. ' God bless you, dear !' and he drew her closer to his beating heart. • Why were you so fearful of lojsing the wager ?' he asked a moment later, when they were comfortably seated side by side before the fire.

' As if a woman wanted to go to a man as the result of a wager I A girl that is worth winning is worth wooing,' with a defiant shake of her dainty head.