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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, June 10, 1915, LAST EDITION, Image 19

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1915-06-10/ed-1/seq-19/

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the pure, fresh winter air entering
our lungs, instead of the stuffy city."
"Yes, and the Yule log, Margie, and
the neighbors' sleighs going by, with
bells tinkling. All in place of the sor
did atmosphere of New York, with
its noisy, vulgar, garish, blatant
amusement"
"Ah, well, there is little hope for
us so long as you have to drudge
along on thirty-five," sighed his wife,
wistfully. ,
They had been married two years,
and ever since their honeymoon they
had lived at Mrs. Smith's. It was a
high-class boarding house, and really
they were very comfortable there.
The meals were excellent, they were
conveniently situated in short, they
could hardly have been better fixed
for the price they were paying. And
yet the vision of a country home, sit
uated among stately trees, beside a
noble river, had begun to work insid
iously upon them, as it so often does
upon the imaginations of the newly
married.
Their dreams were of short dura
tion. Harold came home two nights
later and solemnly kissed Margaret
He took her by the shoulders and
looked into her eyes.
"Can you bear bad news, dear?" he
inquired.
"It's about the position!" gasped
his wife, and Harold nodded.
"I've lost it, Margie. It was given
to Jones this afternoon. The boss
said he would have liked to have put
me into it but he thought I lacked
experience."
"O, Harold," sobbed Margaret,
"and we nearly quarreled about how
we would build our home, when all
the time there wasn't any more
chance of our living in the country
than of going to live on the the
moon."
During succeeding weeks life be
came very dreary for both of them.
The thought of their vanished para
dise depressed them, and the more
impossible their country abode be
came, the more they longed for it It
was about, three weeks after this epi
sode when Margaret received a visit
from a brisk little man with a pro
nounced English accent, who was
closeted wit her for nearly an hour.
He had been gone only ten minutes
when Harold entered. His wife threw
herself into his arms.
"Harold!" she cried, "what do you
think? You remember my Uncle
Henry, who always said he wouldn't
leave me a penny if I married you,
because he didn't like your being a
Presbyterian? Well, he's dead and
he's left me $30,000!"
It took several minutes to convince
Harold of her earnestness.
"We'll have our home for sure now,
Harold," said aMrgaret joyfully.
"Yes," answered Harold gleefully.
"And as a sort of farewell to Broad
way, what do you say to a little din
ner at the Stafford House?"
"First class," said Margaret enthu
siastically. They had never been greatly set
on New York, but now when they
were about to remove themselves
from it forever, a certain element of
resignation mingled with their con
tempt for the great, noisy, garish
city. So much so, in fact, that the
night saw them at the theater, and
the next also and the next
"Harold, what do you think of liv
ing on the Hudson?" inquired Mar
garet a few nights later. "There is a
fine site to be sold, and I thought "We
might go out and have a look at it on
Saturday."
"But, Margie, you forgot that we
are to go to the matinee at the opera
house on Saturday."
And somehow that visit to the sub
urbs never came off, for Harold was
wanted unaccountably at the office
every Sunday, as well as Saturday
afternoons at least so Margaret be
lieved until she came upon him one
Sunday afternoon, reading a maga
zine in the waiting room of the
Grand "Union station. She watched
him for two hours before she went
up to him.
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