Life — February 4, 1904 — page 13: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

OLLFE = wt though he was a guest. him away, but then he such I should like so much just to send ‘d say Iwas a tyrant. And he has way of examining things—he opened one of the book- cases to-day—and I'm sure he listens about the hall —"" “They call that getting material, Aunt Licvtitia.”” “He waits so dreadfully,” wailed Mrs. Dudiey-Wilde, “T don't know what those people to-night will think of me Florence was ashamed that she found all this exciting. “TM see that the table is set right, Auntie,” she volun- teered, guiltil The table looked pretty, the dinner was choi Dadley- Wilde, instead of presiding with her usual formal urbanity, displayed an abstraction which threw a damper on the feast. It was not only that Mildway's awkward- ness kept her in a state of panic—luckily, hers was the shoulder on which he happened to spill claret—but Florence soon percei that she was not only worried as to the impression the butler might make on her guests, she was also concerned about the impression her guests were producing on Mildway She turned the conversation steadily y from all frivolities, and started old Mr. Kent, whom every one dreaded to see take the floor, on a long- winded diatribe anent the last great strike and the wrongs of we Mr. Kent's opinions were such as the most sociological butler could not take exception to, but when Mr. Dudley-Wilde, from a pugnacious love of argu ment, was fain to take the other side, his wife switched the conversation desperately, and was forced to give way to the light-minded spirits who were discussing Florence, while her right-hand neighbor express: tic admiration of a newly-appeared acrobat, looked furtively at Mildway, and felt a chill creep over her as she saw that, instead of passing the champagne, he was listening to the conversation with a scornful smile. That her aunt had seen it too, she was convinced by the entire irrelevancy of Mrs. Dudley-Wilde’s breathless remark that she was so grieved to hear a new revolution was threatened in Bolivia, From beginning to end that dinner was a martyrdom to the hostess, Even when the men had been left to their and Mildway was passing coffee in the drawing- room, the women fell upon the eternal servant question, and the iniquity of maids who objected to wearing caps. The conseusus of opinion Was anything but Democratic, and she saw her house described as the stronghold of an oppressive aristocrat. When the last guest had—willingly enough—departed, their host—himself vaguely dissatistied and disappointed —was amazed at his wife's state of depression. The party had broken up-early, and by midnight the household was asleep. Florence, an hour later, was k- ened by asense of something unusual, and listening, became conscious of suspicious noises down-stairs. When, in a state of great tremor and alarm, she ventured to peer out into the hall, she saw her uncle disappearing down the stairs, while her aunt stood wringing plump hands at the top. “Tt’s burglars," said Mrs. Dudley-Wilde, in a frantic whisper. ‘* Your uncle will be killed.” but Mrs. ingmen. “Let us go down, too," said Florence, with desperate courage, and very cautiously they descended. They had reached the last step, when Mr. Dudley-Wilde threw open the dining-room doors, and, brandishing his revolver, dis- closed to view a dim circle of light from a lantern on the sideboard, and, busily packing up the silver, the awe-in- spiring Mildway. Mr. Dndley-Wilde swung his revolver with a mad shout, and Mildway dropped forks and spoons with a ash, **So, sir said the master. ‘ Don’t move ! telephone for the police.” Mildw vdvanced calmly to the centre of the floor, with the long stride which had impressed Florence as being so unlike a butler. “Don't shoot, sir, I'll give in quiet,’ he said serenely At the same moment, he made a sudden rusb. Mr. Dadley-Wiide raised the revolver. Mildway made a spring, lighted deftly on his eaptor’s shoulders. turned a somer- sault into the dimness of the hall, and disappeared into the darkness with a soft patter of stockinged feet. Mr. Dudley- Wilde followed, and presently his voice was heard shouting, ** Stop, thief !"’ in the street. The mistress of the house sank upon the stairs in a fainting heap, aud Florence was occupied for some time in trying to soothe her. Servants crowded into the hall; neighbors clamored at the door-bell; the night watchman appeared, protesting faithfulness ; but before Mr. Dudley- Wilde appeared, breathless, dishevelled, wrapped in a policeman's overcoat, but beamingly triumphant, calmness had returned to the household, and aunt and niec ere counting the rescued silver. “They've got him," the master announced cheerfully. * Went to the station house and saw him locked up. He's an old hand—robbed a circus tronpe two months ago. Used to do acrobatic turns with these traveling shows. The police have been looking for him ever since."* “O, Aunt Livtitia !"’ sobbed Florence, viewing the dents in the largest fruit dish. ** That’s how he knew about the boxing. It’s all my fault for making such a stupid mistake!" Mrs. Dudley-Wilde picked up the sugar bow! with return of her ancient majesty. “My dear,”’ she said magnanimously, “I was mistaken, too; I misjudged poor dear Mrs. Binton. But I'm only glad we were wrong, At least,’’ and she heaved a sigh of relief, “there is nothing mortifying about a burglary.” And her husband stared at her in bewilderment. Finis. Fiorence, x Death and the Hatchet. ILLS of millio We can make our deaths exciting ; And, de} ave behind us All our wives’ relations fighting. res remind us, arting, Bertrand Shadweit. comicbooks.com