The Wreck of the South Pole and Other Strange Tales — page 154: what you’re looking at

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

What Shall She Do? 147 do for him. In reply he drew a chair up to my desk and asked: “Are not you the gentleman who recently sent a paper headed ‘The Haunted House’ to the Capital?” I answered in the affirmative. “T am the writer of it, and for a year have been anxious to have it published in a Missouri paper. Six months ago I left it with the editor of the Kansas City Times, but by some strange fate it has fallen into your hands and you have done me the favor of publishing it. I now wish to ask an additional favor. If you ever hear any inquiries for the author will you please notify me.” And he laid a card on the desk before me, and then after a few re- marks and adieus departed. I looked at the card. It bore the commonplace name of John Warrington, with the address, Palmer House, Chicago. A few weeks after John Warrington’s visit I took a trip to St. Louis, and, of course, stopped with my little mother. She, too, had read the story of “The Haunted House,” for I sent her the Capital daily, as became an affectionate son. To my surprise she was very curious about it and asked me innumerable questions, among them the author’s name. And then she took me into her confidence and told me. “Paul, did it ever occur to you that I did not love my husband ?” I confessed that, viewing her well ordered house, it never had, CORNIEOOOKS (SO)