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HEN Fanny Offord married Gerald Revere, she knew she was running a certain risk. There was no lack of counselors among her female friends w to represent to her what she was doing. “He’s five years younger than you,” said Miss Credentia Cruller. “He’s handsome, my dear, as an Apollo,” said Mrs. Speakplain. “And you know very well‘you are inclined to be pale and insigni ficant.” “And he’s a decided society man,” added Aunty Critic, “and you always preferred a quiet life. ’ ’ “He’ll be young when you are an old wo man,” nodded Miss Cruller. “Oh, my love, I dread to think of what is in store for you.” But what avails advice when love is in question? Fanny and Gerald were heartily in love with each other; and Fanny chanced it and married him. “I’m determined, however,” said the bride, “not to risk any domestic pitfalls. So when Gerald spoke of his mother and sister com ing to make their home with us, I frowned it down decidedly.” “Quite right,” said Credentia Cruller, “I knew a house that was entirely broken up by a meddling half-sister.” “And mothers-in-law are proverbial mis chief-makers,” declared Mrs. Speakplain. “I know one thing,” asserted pretty little Mrs. Mildway. “I could’t keep house without Frank’s mother. Frank says he would marry no woman whose heart is not big enough to take in his mother, too.” When old Mrs. Revere died, Juliet wrote her sister-in-law a simple, pathetic letter. “She will know how homeless I am,” thought Juliet, “and surely she will ask me to come to her. ’ ’ But Fifnny did not make any such proposi tion. She wrote back a conventional note fu'l of glittering generalities, and said not a word about welcoming the orphan to her east ern hearth-stone. “We are too happy as we are,” said Fanny to herself, steeling her heart against the pangs of conscience by a variety of sophistical argu ments. Juliet dried her tears and set herself to work considering what it was best to do. She had been educated expensively, but not in away to warrant her in teaching. She was accom plished, but none of her accomplishments were marketable. In despair she went to New York and entered her name on the books of a popu lar employment office. “Work is honorable,” thought Juliet. “I’ll go to work.” About a week from that time Miss Credentia Cruller bustled into the Revere house. “I’ve got you a gem of a seamstress, my dear,” said she. “I inspected some of her needle-work and she understands cutting from patterns, and makes such sweet button-holes.” “You are very kind,” said Fanny, who sat beside the ribbon-draped crib of her first baby, looking supremely happy. “I don’t think I could possibly have left dear little Dimple long enough to go myself.” “Yes, I knew you were wanting a seam stress,” smirked Miss Credentia; “and hap pened to be at the office engaging a cook for Mrs. Jermyn Jackelson, so I just thought of you.” But Miss Credentia neglected to state that HUSBAND AND WIFE the keeper of the “office” was under sibsidy to pay a neat little commission to her for ev ery family she put upon the books. “There’s only one objection to this Miss Johnson,” said Miss Cruller. “She’s pretty.” Fanny laughed. “Is that an objection?” said she. “I like pretty people around the house.” “Perhaps Mr. Revere does also?” The wife frowned. “Mr. Revere is not a flirt,” she said. “Oh, my dear, gentlemen can’t help flirting,” declared Miss Credentia. “It’s their nature. And Mr. Revere wasn’t allowed with those melting black eyes for nothing. You see, a woman that will marry a handsome man does so at her peril. He, he, he!” Fanny, however, did not echo the laugh. She did not relish that sort of a joke. Miss Johnson arrived —a pale, stately young woman, in rather shabby black, with a profile like a cameo and large dark eyes shaded with a close fringe of jetty lashes. “She is pretty,” thought Mrs. Revere; “but how very cold and silent! It’s just as well, however, I hire her to sew, and not to talk.’ She set Miss Johnosn at work on a white cashmere cloak for little Miss Dimple, as they had nicknamed the baby, and went out that same afternoon to buy some swan’s-down to border it. It was dark when she came back. Gerald stood looking into the fire in the library, his head resting on his hand. “Where’s baby?” cried she. “I believe they have taken her intol the sitting room. She cried, and no one could comfort her but the sewing girl.” “Oh, you’ve seen the new seamstress?” “Yes.” “She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” “Rather,” i ’ ! “Credentia Cruller got her for me.” “Did she?” “Gerald, aren’t you well?” “Are you vexed with me?” “Quite well, thank you, Fanny.” “Why should I be vexed with you?” “Perhaps I oughtn’t to have been so long away from Dimpie,” said Fanny, beginning in a hurried way to untie her bonnet-strings; and she made haste to the sitting room, where the tiny autocrat of the family was fast asleep. Miss Johnson sat sewing diligently, with one foot on the rocker of the cradle. “I’m so much obliged to you, Miss John son,” said Mrs. Revere, graciously. “I’m glad to be of service,” said the young woman. “The nurse seemed inexperienced, and the child cried as if she would go into convulsions. I am naturally fond of children, and fortunately I succeeded in quieting her.” “I’ve got a treasure in my new seamstress,” thought Fanny. For a few days all went well. Then Miss Credentia descended like an element of evil into the current of affairs. “I told you so, Fanny!” she said. “Told me what?” “That seamstress is a deal too pretty.” “Nonsense!” “Nonsense, is it? You were out yester dav afternoon?” “Os course, I was out. It was Clara Mild may’s birthday, and Dimple is perfectly good under Miss Johnson’s supervision—why shouldn’t I be out?” “Humph! Dimple is fond of Miss Johnson?” The Golden Age for April 3, 1913 By SHIRLEY BROWNE. “Yes.” “So is somebody else!” Fanny drew herself up. “I don’t understand you,” said she. “Mr. Revere was in the sitting room from the time he came home from the office until you came back,” solemnly spoke Miss Cruller. “He wanted to be where Dimple was, I sup pose.” “My dear, don’t delude yourself,” said Miss Crueller, with a vicious toss of her head. “But truth is truth, Fanny Revere, and, if you’ll remember, I warned you of this before you ever married that handsome scapegrace! “Miss Crueller, no woman shall speak to me of my husband in such terms as that!’ said Fanny, with dignity, as she rose and held the door open for the fair Credentia to de part. Which she did, merely reiterating the four fatal words: “I told you so!” “If this is really true I ought to know it,’ thought Fanny, with a dull, sickeneing sensa tion as if her heart were turning to ice with in her. “I will accept the invitation to Mrs. Speakplain’s Scientific Symposium this after noon, and will return when they least expect me. 1 hate myself for condescending to a strategem like this; but what else remains to me?” She was good as her word, and at least an hour before the regular adjournment of the Scientific Symposium she quietly glided into her own hall-way. Yes, it was true. Up in the nursery she could hear the nurse singing baby Dimple to sleep with a drowsy lullaby, but in the sitting room below there was the sound of voices— Gerald’s own tones, alternating with the deep, soft contralto of Miss Johnson. “I cannot remain here any longer, Gerald,” the latter said. “I love darling Dimple, and it is happiness to be here near you, but I feel your wife ought to know that —” ■; “She does know it!” cried Fanny, sweeping into the room like an evening Medea. “She knows that she is a wronged wife —that you, Miss Johnson, are false and wicked—” Both Gerald and the sewing woman had risen to their feet. “Be careful. Fanny, what you say,” stern ly spoke Gerald. “If all wives were as truly loved and as loyally honored as yourself, there would be little cause of complaint in the ■world! ’ ’ “And I,” said the young girl, proudly, “am neither false nor wicked! I do love Gerald. Why should we not love each other? I am his sister! Don’t look so amazed, Mrs. Revere. I did not come to you purposely. I did not even know the name of the family for whom Miss Cruller engaged me until I was already in the house! You had declined to receive me as a guest, but as long as I rendered you honorable service in return for my board and wages, I felt no weight of obligation. Even Gerald could not send me away while I remained only the seamstress. ” Fanny looked from her husband to his sis ter. She had grown very pale, her lip quiv ered. “I have been selfish and cruel,’’.she mur mured. “Is your name Juliet?” “It was Juliet Revere,” said the girl, “but when I came to New York and left the tradi tions of my earlier life behind me, I changed (Continued on page 13.) 3