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Newspaper Page Text
By Mildred Caroline Coodridge.
(Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
"Mary looks old and worn," said
John Strickland to his brother,
"Should think she would!" retorted
Eph. "Say, John, this has been an
Then He Started and Stared Through
an Open Window.
imposition our family landing down
on you this way.
"Well, you're welcome, aren't
you?" demanded John.
"Your wife has surely made it so
dear woman! She's a prize, a jewel,
but to harbor and work out her life
for her husband's folks no more of
that! We're going home tomorrow."
John said nothing, stalking away.
He was in a cross mood. It was true
that Mary looked old and worn. A
true-hearted, loyal little woman, she
had set herself at work to give her
visitors the time of their lives. They
were John's relatives and nothing
was too good for them.
So no wonder that she looked tired
and faded. For nearly three weeks
she had hardly found time to change
her dress daytimes. As to hair frills
none of that, surely! She had ignored
"fixing up," of necessity, until she had
appeared almost homely to John.
And that afternoon something
crossgrained had hit John hard. He
had just been noticing the tired but
smiling face of his wife, when an
automobile sped by. It contained a
chauffeur and two others. The oth
ers were Mr. and Mrs. Alison-.
They were old residents of the
town, but had left five years previous
to live in the city. Now they were
coming back to the old Booth home
stead. John Strickland, peering past
a lilac bush, noticed Cy Alison, smart
ly dressed and of prim dignity, seated
beside his wife she that had been
John stared. He had not seen Mrs.
Alison for over five years. She had
been his first flame. She had treated
him pretty mean in discarding after
encouraging him. John had got all
over that calf love speedily, however.
Just now, though, a queer thrill per
"Why, .she looks as young yes,
younger than when I last saw her!"
he was forced to ejaculate.
Certainly, at a distance, Mrs. Ali
son was a vivid contrast to Mary
Strickland. There was a vivid color
in her cheeks as she smiled, her white,
even teeth reminded of pearls. Her '
hair was tastefully, arranged, her fig
ure made up to the perfect outline of
a dressmaker's model.
"I might have had her once, if I'd
set out strong enough to win her,"
mused John. "Her misband looks as
useless and, ninnylike as usual. And
they say she got a hundred thousand -