Life — February 17, 1916 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

Set ES SHORT STORY GHTE The contest closed on October 4th, 1915. So many thousands of manuscripts have been received, each one necessitating a careful reading, that our friends are invited to exercise all due patience. We shall continue to publish the stories accepted each week in this department until oll the manuscripts have been passed upon; and as soon thereafter as possible the prises will be awarded. Housework—And the Man By Freeman Tilden SAND you live here—all alone?” she said, “Tt looks it, doesn't it?” replied Archer, with a little embarrassed grin. “T have a woman come in once a week to clean up. I do the rest—when it gets done. I suppose it looks pretty bad—to you She ran her finger appraisingly along the table and held it up. It was cov- ered with dust. She laughed. “ Men can’t keep house,” she said. She rummaged around until she found a rag that would serve as a duster. “ Now, please don’t bother, Miss——" he began. “I'm married,” she corrected soberly. “Mrs. Kincaid.” “Well, Mrs. Kincaid, please don’t bother to do that. Really, I'm afraid I enjoy dirt. “Nobody enjoys dirt,” was her se- vere reply. “ Not if they can be clean. He sat and watched her. He couldn't kelp laughing. With deft hands she seemed to fathom every hiding place of dust. And he noticed that her cheeks, which had been pale enough when she came in, were becoming radiant. Pretty soon she turned her attention to the bed. “ Well, of all the messes I ever saw!” she exclaimed. “ Who ever showed you how to make up a bed?” “You just watch me,” she told him. “Like this—and then like this—then you smooth it out—see?” “It sure does look better,” he ad- mitted. “ But please don’t poke around in the kitchen. At least spare me that mortification.” She didn’t heed his plea. “1 thought sol!” she exolaimed. “Not a dish washed!” “I was going to wash them this afternoon,” said Archer, humbly. “Huh! don’t you know it’s twice as hard after you let them stand? Where's the dishcloth?” “Oh, come now; really, I won't have you——” She paid no attention to him. “What pretty dishes!” she said, as the hot water began to run. ‘e and ten cent store,” Archer laughed. “Really? And they look much prettier than mine. Do you know, I think this is a dear little place “ Dish-washing is the worst part of said the young man, “Listen,” she told him. “ Whenever the dishes have egg on them, don't put the hot water on first. Watch ME yea: lentes She even insisted on rearranging his little closet of dishes. She cleaned DER GOVERNMENT RESERVATION FOR NATIVE AMERIKANS + tuibon noovend, © °c the top of the gas range. Archer vainly tried to prevent her. She was singing now, as she worked. She straightened the pictures on the wall. She averred that she couldn’t be happy till she had swept the place from end to end. After it was all over they sat down facing each other. There was a pink flush of satisfaction on her cheeks. “And I never knew who lived up here,” she began. “I must say you're quiet. These apartment houses are just like a lot of cigar boxes. You know cur flat is right underneath,” “It's so decent. of you,” Arthur. “ Listen,” she interrupted. “ I've had a perfectly splendid time. I suppose I must be going now. It’s five o'clock, isn’t it?” He nodded. At the door she stopped and said, “T've often seen you down at the street door, and wondered whether you'd speak sometime. You don't began think—because I came in here——” “TI think nothing,” he said. “I knew you were that kind of a “DISS ISS DER BEST PLACE FOR YoU” comicbooks.com