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.
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JOHN LEWIS CHILDS. Floul Park. N. Y.J
TRADES
Your Farm
ALL KINDS OT HOUSES
TRADE FOR FARMS.
TO
T. J. LONG
520 Henry Building, Portland, Oregon.
ran
WmfM
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Burner
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FITS YOIIB OLD LAMP.
100 Candle Power litneeent
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TT IMPORTANT, that
li, you mention this
paper 111
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