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About The gazette-times. (Heppner, Or.) 1912-1925 | View Entire Issue (May 13, 1915)
IIOME AND FARM MAGAZINE SECTION 13 Dill Pickle in a New Roie BY MAKIA C. SCHEIIMERHOltN. In Los Angeles Times. , rOTJ surely can't mean that, Margery," and Bob's coffee cup came down with a crash "Ht newly shivered it. Indeed, I do," she declared with a pout, rising quickly from the table to avoid the anrprise and indignation gathering in his wide blue eyes. . "And for such a trine," he groaned. For one silent moment he watched her, resentment plainly struggling with amusement in his face, then tossing his napkin to the floor In mas culine disregard of table amenities, he swung impatiently from his chair and started for the door. Margery walked over to the buffet and rearranged with studied but per functory care some of the dainty china and cut glass that filled its shelves, while she maintained a frieid silence. She was conations that his eyes were following her, but she ig nored them, and her girlish figure presented an uncompromising back. She heard him pause at the door as if offering a last opportunity for re conciliation, but she only clattered the cupp and saucers noisily with nervous fingers and stiffened into greater rigidity. When, a moment later, he stole over and whispered. "Let's kiss and make up, darling," she flung herself from him and rushed from the room, leaving him standing, daied and angry. In a few moments the front door closed with a bang, and she knew that he had left the house. Her first impulse was to run and call him back, but Instead she watched him from the window limp stiffly down the street-and disappear around the cor ner. His football leg seemed lamer than usual, she noticed with a little pang. For some time she stood there straining eager eyes out of the win dow, then turning slowly she rang the bell for Nora and restlessly awaited her coming, her brow crin kled into a thoughtful frown. "Are there any dill pickles in tho house, Nora?" she asked. "No, mum." "Then go down to the grocery, please, and get me the largest one you can find." "Yes, mum. Anything else, mum?" "No. And you may have the aft ernoon off, Nora, as we shall dine out this evening," and Mrs. Osterhout turned her back quickyq. When left alone she sprang to the window and again peered anxiously down the street; after a moment she turned away with a half-cbecked sigh. "The mean, selfish fellow!" she murmured as she picked up a small picture from the dressing table and stared resentfully at a round, boy ish face that looked up at ber with a teasing smile in the eyes. "And to think that we've been married only three months, and he-should treat me like this!" and the angry tears dropped wfth moist, reproach upon the upturned face. A slight tap at the door was un heeded, and a gentle "Good morning, dear," startled her out of her self pitying musings. . "Why mother!" she exclaimed, and then turned aside, chagrined that anyone even the dear mother should find her -in tears. "Are you not well, daughter dear?" her mother asked with anxious con cern. . "Yes, I'm well," was the reserved reply. With a reserved look her mother subsided comfortably Into an arm chair. "I'm going out for the day, mnm sy," Margery announced as i?hp pinned on her hat. "It's so lovely," she de clared,' and again ber' quick glance sought the window. ''After pnyfng a tittle visit I'm to meet Muriel Van Rensslaer at the Palace Grill for luncheon, and then we're going to the matinee." "That sounds pleasant, riVar. It will cheer you up and you'll come home to Bob, with a smiling face." Then Margery knew that her fool ish tears had not escaped the mother's keen eyes. "Bob s going to take dinner at the club, and and I was coming 'round to have mine with yon, mmns? dear," and there was a qnivery tirmMe in the voire that brought a questioning look from the mother. ' Margery faltered on. "The troth fs," coloring deeply, "we've had a little Quarrel, our very first, and I told him he needn't come home or Rpeak to me till he'd apol ogized," she confessed miserably. "Why, Margery!" her mother ex claimed. '"Yes, I know It, and he snld he . ever would, and he looked so queer and stubborn that oh, muiusy, I'm so unhappy," and with a little stb she turned again and sought the solace of the window, but could see nothing through the treacherous tears. - After a moment's silence, her mother said gravely: "You are sure, dear, that you were not a,t fault? You know Bob's proud, Independent spirit. He'll surely take you at your word. A petulant shrug was Margery's answer. "I don't care If he does. But he won't, you'll see," she asserted confi dently as Bhe gathered up some angular-looking parcels. "Besides," she straightened up with all the im pressive dignity of her five-feet-one-in-her-stockings, "besides, 1 wasn'J a bit unreasonable, either. I only asked him to get some stationery en graved with his family crestj and he just langhed; said it was stupid and snobbish and un-American, and I don't know what all. It's the first thing he's refused me since we were married, and I think he's the unreas onable one," and she sniffed after the mannerr of a scpolled child. "Is that all?" questioned the quiet voice. "Oh, we talked a good deal about it," Margery admitted with slow re luctance, "and I tried to show him that with such a fine old name he ought to be proud of it and do as the Van Amsterdanis and other old fam ilies are doing, and use the coat-of-arms on our house linen and silver and and limousine when we get it. It would be so classy, mumsy, dear," and Margery's eyes danted with anticipatory pleasure. Her mother shook her head. Embarrassed and a trifle nettled by the wordless disapproval, Mar gery hurried ou in confused explana tion. "But Bob only laughed; he said I was a little snob; he made remarks about the effete aristocracy, and a whole lot of other rubbish. When I told him he was a democrat and a a plebeian he laughed all the harder. That made me angry," and Margery glanced a bit anxiously at the clock. "I must catch the next car, mother. Will you come with me?" and she snatched up her parcels and started for the door. "No, I'll go home, dear. A happy day to you. And I- wouldn't " she started to say, then thinking bet ter of it she kissed her daughter, ten derly and hurried away. Margery stood for a moment look ing down absently at the toe of ber dainty pump. "Mother doesn't approve, I can see that," she admitted with a frown. "1 suppose she's right, but, ob, dear, we can't all be sensible." Margery sighed as he stooped to pick a thread from her skirt. "He might have done it if only to please me. I wonder," she mused as she took a last survey of herself in the glass, "I wonder if he really will be mean enough to take me at my word and not speak till we make tip," and d shadow of anxiety had crept Into her face when she left the room. As she hurried down the street, Norm called after her. "Did ye want the pickle, mum?" "Oh, I came near forgetting it," Margery exclaimed, flushing with an noyance as she caught a glimpse of an amused smile on the face of a " passing neighbor. "What a bother that would have been!" She reached out a daintily-gloved band for the dripping, slippery confection which she saw to her dismay was wrapped but loosely In a single piece of par affine paper, quite innocent of a confining string. A car was com ing with a precipitate directness that left no time to cover the plebeian par cel more securely, so clutching it gin gerly, she tried to conceal it among ber tiarcels and hastened on. As the onrnshlng electric approached the comer a shrill voice yelled after her: "You've dropped something, ma'am," and a small boy, grinning wickedly, overtook and handed her the elusive pickle .fust as she stepped aboard the crowded car. Breathless and embarrassed, pain fully coascious of the amused faces of the etirfous passengers, she sat down in the nearest seat next the aristo cratic Mrs. Van Honten, whom she had recently met at an afternoon function. "Good morning, Mrs. Osterhout. Lovely day," greeted her neighbor, glancing with well-bred curiosity at the bundles, which, to Margery's pal pitating confusion, had never seemed in such offensive evidence. Refore she could answer, a dull, tmmfstiiKable thud struck her ear, and with an exclamation of horror she saw that depraved pickle lying at her feet in the middle of the passage way, grinning defiance at the aston ished looks of the convulsed passen gers. It seemed incredible to her that an inanimate object could ex press such insolence. As she reached to pick it up, a gen tleman sitting opposite who had been apparently absorbed in the morning the offending edible, deftly rolled it in its scanty wrapping and banded it paper, sprang forward, snatched up to her with a profound bow. Not -a quiver of an eyelash betrayed his amusement. - She took it in hanghty silence, with m bare Inclination of her head in acknowledgment of the courtesy. A good-natured bat sympathetic smile flickered around the car. She flushed crimson, bnt smiled back. "This wretched pickle!" she laughed Jn spite of her embarrass ment. "You see," she began to ex plain, and then checked herself. She had suddenly become aware by an infallible feminine instinct that the immaculate and shiny black shoul ders of the aristocratic Mrs. Van Honten had stiffened into rigid lines, and that the head surmounting them was poised at an angle that no longer brought her discomfited neighbor within the range of her vision. Then, too, as a gauzy handkerchief was raised languidly to the averted face Margery caught a glimpse in one corner of an elabortely embroidered family crest. Her lips closed tightly. There should be no explanations from her. She settled back in her seat and clung in grim silence to her pickle, at the same time glancing across resentfully at the man behind the paper. He was deeply engrossed in his reading, and showed no further in terest in either pickle ov passenger. Margery was strangely silent the rest of the way, answering the per functory remarks of her neighbor with grudging monosyllables. When she left the ear, eager to escape the scene of her humiliation, she shot a quick, backward glance at the man behind the paper. A hurried walk of three blocks brought her to a small cottage whose sbabbiness was softened and all but concealed behind a tangle of climb ing vines and roses. As she was about to knock she discovered to her dismay that the precious pickle was missing. She searched for It with desperate eagerness among her par cels, but it had quite disappeared. After all the humiliation it bad cost her to think that the perverse green thing had escaped at lastt She began to think It had life and deliberate in tent to annoy and mortify her. With an angry exclamation she looked about wondering what she should do. As she turned, a startled cry broke from her, for there HE stood the man behind the paper mutely hold ing out to her, like a green olive branch, the lost offender. She only stared. They looked at each other In silence, her sensitive face betray ing all sorts of emotions, he with a faint suspicion of a smile lurking in his eyes. "Oh, Bob!" she cried, "where how why?" and she burst into a ringing laugh in which he finally Joined. "Where did you find it?" she de manded, pointing tragically at the er ratic object Bob shook his head solemnly, but said nothing. "Why don't you speak?" she urged with a guilty look. "May I?" he aswed with a twinkle that contradicted hia meekness. "Of course, you foolish fellow! It was mean of you not to recognise me on the car," and a suspicion of a pot began to hang about her lips. It was quickly dissipated, though, when she looked up at him and said with bewitching sweetness: "I'm sorry I was so silly and unreasonable this morning, Bob."' He placed a silencing finger over ber lips. "I was a brute, dear, for langhing at you," and be caught np her hand and kissed It eagerly. "You haven't told me where you found the pickle," she reminded Mm after they had read forgiveness iu each other's eyes. "Why, just where yon dropped it on the car as you got off. Tt fell at the conductor's feet and I told him I'd see that you got it. Otherwise it would have been turned into the com pany's office to be claimed by you later," he teased. Margery looked unutterable things. "Bob, she whispered, looking fear fully about. "Do you know I conld almost swear." "Well, what In thunder are you doing traveling about the city with all those parcels and this confounded' thing anyway, Margery?" and he held up and viewed with infinite scorn the limp, inanimate thing. She laughed happily. Nothing mattered now that Bob wa3 there and they'd made up. "Why, you see," she explained, "Gottlieb, our gardener," she nodded toward the little cottage, "has a small boy, Friuy, who's sick, and the doc tor says he can't get well. Has hip disease," her eyes softened with ready sympathy. "The last time I called I asked the' little fellow what he'd like me to bring him, and he said so eagerly: 'A dill pickle, if you 'please, ma'am,' and here it is," she smiled ruefully. "I brought a few toys, too," she, added, following Bob's curious glance at a tin head and some wooden legs that were protrud ing aggressively from the dishevelled packages. Again their eyes met in smiling understanding. "Yon crazy little democrat! You plebeian American!" he murmured, squeezing her hand fervently. "And YOU want a crest!" he mocked. "Well, I'm going straight down now to order the die for it." "Are you. Bob? That's just dear of you," she gazed at him adoringly. "But I don't believe I want It now," -she confessed as a fleeting vision of a' pair of rigid black satin shoulders rose before her. "Bnt you will when you know what the design is to be," he smiled back. "Why, what Is it?" she looked puzzled. He paused and watched with mock seriousness the question grow in her face; then with a teasing twinkle he announced: "Yes, it s to be A DILL PICKLE RAMPANT." One swift look into his eyes, and her face broke into a ripple of merry smiles. "Oh, Bob! Yon droll, aristocratic humbug!" she exclaimed. Then, un mindful of the curious gaze of a passing stranger, she slipped for one ecstatic instant into his out-stretched arms. And the unconscious "peacemak er," having fulfilled its mission, fell to the ground and lay inert, forgotten and neglected between them; while a pair of big, wistful eyes, deep set in a pain-drawn face, watched it hungrily from the near-by cottage window. The Chinese Wool flower The three nest popnlai garden flowers tli woiid eer were all named and imroduceUby uswitiiintha past so years tthe Oltlrn Clow, Hybrid Cosmos aid GladiolinrCliildsi America) a record without a parallel. Thta year we add to tfie trio another novelty equally unique, equally vahiaHe and of surfcassiar faiiliao cy. It will find Hx way over the world as quickly as the others did and take its place eieirwheae as the furerjtKt e it den an&J'aL The Chinese Woolfloww Is a Olewia of new form and easy prowl h, two feft Lijrh with a acoro of branches each crowned with a great erf mon ki2 ef wooiy atrbfltarwe wMeb holds its color and beamy all through ibr season making it tbe most interesting, 1hvH and showy of all jrnrnen or pot annuals. Price SO ta nrr pbt. cf 40 o 5 seeds: 3 pktn, ftor 50 rl,t together ith New BI.t'E PETUNIA rf GIANT Sl-'MMFK COSMOS free for trial aad CaJaJojr. "Our Big ntn1a-u ef Flower and Vee: Seeds, BiJbf, Plants anil rare new Fruit freeta aft ho apply. Wearethe tarrrtst growers in tbr world1 of i.tadielo, Caenas, l&Njas, Lilies. Iris, etc.. and ourstocks are best aad cheariest. JOHN LEWIS CHILDS. Floul Park. N. Y.J TRADES Your Farm ALL KINDS OT HOUSES TRADE FOR FARMS. 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