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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, September 13, 1916, LAST EDITION, Image 18',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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By Victor Redcliffe
-(Copyright, 1916, W. G. Chapman.)
- Ruby Wardell was madly jealous
'of her husband and he never suspect
ed the fact. Certainly he was hand
some, chatty, accommodating, but
"all of his impulses were of the friend
ly and humane order and he idolized
-his wife solely as the apple of his eye.
He had noticed the first gloss of
sweetness and perfect happiness
somewhat dissipate'd after the first
six months of married life, but he
-attributed the growing pettishness of
Ruby to loneliness, ennui, the ab-.
sence of close girlhood friends'., Ar
nold was away a good deal of his
-time being a traveling salesman. He
felt sorry for Ruby on this accounl.
"As to Ruby, she continued to hear
what terrible flirts these knights of
the road were, most of them, her in-r
formants assured her, like the sailor
-who has a sweetheart in every port.
t If Arnold had understood his wife
and her concealed suspicions better
he would never have telegraphed her
one summer afternoon:
"Man away for two days. Expect
a big order. Will be delayed 48
These facts were true. Arnold was
' acting under a strictly-business im
petus and house instructions. He had
two days to loaf in. The village was
.'crude, hot, dusty, a deal old town.
The next morning he resolved upon
a hike down an inviting-looking
N The primitive struck him from the
start of his jaunt The farms were
ancient, the people homespun- and
gawky. At some doorsteps he saw
old women with distaff and spinning
wheel. He neared a ruined qld mill
patched with moss, a fit setting for
a picture of a far past0 century.
There was a little grove near it. The
place was deliriously quiet and cool.
Arnold sat down under a spreading
oak and fell asleep.
He awoke to the sound of conver
sation near by. Getting tp his feet
he made out beyondy a bright, pretty
maiden of about 18 and a slouchy,
but honest-faced, country bumpkin
a 'trifle older. Near by was a keen
faced, business-appearing young
man, obviously city bred. Leaning
against a tree was a tripod and cam
era. The young man was speaking.
"It will never do."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Why, What Does Thjs Mean?"-
demanded the bumpkin in a fretful
tone, "squeeze her to death?"
"Not at all be the natural lover.
Don't smack her, kiss her daintily.
Don't grab her as if she were a stack
of wheat Be expressive, my young
"Say," spouted the bumpkin, "you
want a love scene? Well, here it is,
true to nature, isn't it, Nellie?-"