In the northern part of Austin there once dwelt an honest family by the name of Smothers. The family consisted of John Smothers, his wife, himself, their little daughter, five years of age, and her parents, making six people toward the population of the city when counted for a special write-up, but only three by actual count.
One night after supper the little girl was seized with a severe colic, and John Smothers hurried down town to get some medicine.
He never came back.
The little girl recovered and in time grew up to womanhood.
The mother grieved very much over her husband's disappearance, and it was nearly three months before she married again, and moved to San Antonio.
The little girl also married in time, and after a few years had rolled around, she also had a little girl five years of age.
She still lived in the same house where they dwelt when her father had left and never returned.
One night by a remarkable coincidence her little girl was taken with cramp colic on the anniversary of the disappearance of John Smothers, who would now have been her grandfather if he had been alive and had a steady job.
"I will go downtown and get some medicine for her," said John Smith (for it was none other than he whom she had married).
"No, no, dear John," cried his wife. "You, too, might disappear forever, and then forget to come back."
So John Smith did not go, and together they sat by the bedside of little Pansy (for that was Pansy's name).
After a little Pansy seemed to grow worse, and John Smith again attempted to go for medicine, but his wife would not let him.
Suddenly the door opened, and an old man, stooped and bent, with long white hair, entered the room.
"Hello, here is grandpa," said Pansy. She had recognized him before any of the others.
The old man drew a bottle of medicine from his pocket and gave Pansy a spoonful.
She got well immediately.
"I was a little late," said John Smothers, "as I waited for a street car."
[From The Rolling Stone.]
"Press me no more Mr. Snooper," said Gladys Vavasour-Smith. "I can never be yours."
"You have led me to believe different, Gladys," said Bertram D. Snooper.
The setting sun was flooding with golden light the oriel windows of a magnificent mansion situated in one of the most aristocratic streets west of the brick yard.
Bertram D. Snooper, a poor but ambitious and talented young lawyer, had just lost his first suit. He had dared to aspire to the hand of Gladys Vavasour-Smith, the beautiful and talented daughter of one of the oldest and proudest families in the county. The bluest blood flowed in her veins. Her grandfather had sawed wood for the Hornsbys and an aunt on her mother's side had married a man who had been kicked by General Lee's mule.
The lines about Bertram D. Snooper's hands and mouth were drawn tighter as he paced to and fro, waiting for a reply to the question he intended to ask Gladys as soon as he thought of one.
At last an idea occurred to him.
"Why will you not marry me?" he asked in an inaudible tone.
"Because," said Gladys firmly, speaking easily with great difficulty, "the progression and enlightenment that the woman of to-day possesses demand that the man shall bring to the marriage altar a heart and body as free from the debasing and hereditary iniquities that now no longer exist except in the chimerical imagination of enslaved custom."
"It is as I expected," said Bertram, wiping his heated brow on the window curtain. "You have been reading books."
"Besides that," continued Gladys, ignoring the deadly charge, "you have no money."
The blood of the Snoopers rose hastily and mantled the cheek of Bertram D. He put on his coat and moved proudly to the door.
"Stay here till I return," he said, "I will be back in fifteen years."
When he had finished speaking he ceased and left the room.
When he had gone, Gladys felt an uncontrollable yearning take possession of her. She said slowly, rather to herself than for publication, "I wonder if there was any of that cold cabbage left from dinner."
She then left the room.
When she did so, a dark-complexioned man with black hair and gloomy, desperate looking clothes, came out of the fireplace where he had been concealed and stated:
"Aha! I have you in my power at last, Bertram D. Snooper. Gladys Vavasour-Smith shall be mine. I am in the possession of secrets that not a soul in the world suspects. I have papers to prove that Bertram Snooper is the heir to the [Footnote: An estate famous in Texas legal history. It took many, many years for adjustment and a large part of the property was, of course, consumed as expenses of litigation.] Tom Bean estate, and I have discovered that Gladys' grandfather who sawed wood for the Hornsby's was also a cook in Major Rhoads Fisher's command during the war. Therefore, the family repudiate her, and she will marry me in order to drag their proud name down in the dust. Ha, ha, ha!"
As the reader has doubtless long ago discovered, this man was no other than Henry R. Grasty. Mr. Grasty then proceeded to gloat some more, and then with a sardonic laugh left for New York.
* * * *
Fifteen years have elapsed.
Of course, our readers will understand that this is only supposed to the the case.
It really took less than a minute to make the little stars that represent an interval of time.
We could not afford to stop a piece in the middle and wait fifteen years before continuing it.
We hope this explanation will suffice. We are careful not to create any wrong impressions.
Gladys Vavasour-Smith and Henry R. Grasty stood at the marriage altar.
Mr. Grasty had evidently worked his rabbit's foot successfully, although he was quite a while in doing so.
Just as the preacher was about to pronounce the fatal words on which he would have realized ten dollars and had the laugh on Mr. Grasty, the steeple of the church fell off and Bertram D. Snooper entered.
The preacher fell to the ground with a dull thud. He could ill afford to lose ten dollars. He was hastily removed and a cheaper one secured.
Bertram D. Snooper held a Statesman in his hand.
"Aha!" he said, "I thought I would surprise you. I just got in this morning. Here is a paper noticing my arrival."
He handed it to Henry R. Grasty.