Read Ebook: Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Twain Mark

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 55 lines and 2287 words, and 2 pages

Illustrator: Rollin G. Kirby

THE CONGRESSMAN'S WIFE

The Congressman's Wife

JOHN D. BARRY

ILLUSTRATED BY ROLLIN G. KIRBY

COPYRIGHTED 1900, by ESS ESS PUBLISHING CO.

COPYRIGHTED 1903, by THE SMART SET PUBLISHING CO.

PREFACE In this story my aim has not been primarily to depict conditions in American politics. This work has already been done far better than I could do it by several writers, among others, by Mr. Brand Whitlock, whose novel, "The Thirteenth District," shows a remarkable insight and fidelity. I have merely used a familiar condition for the purpose of tracing some of its purely social and human complications. The contrast between the standards a man may follow in public life or in business and those he maintains at home, with his wife and children, seemed to me to afford material worth the attention of the story-writer.

J. D. B.

THE CONGRESSMAN'S WIFE

"Yes, Washington is never finer than now." The white-haired Senator stood at the top of the steps of the Capitol and looked benignly across the city. The air was heavy with the rich odor of Spring. The trees were putting out their tender green leaves.

Douglas Briggs nodded. "It will be fine for a few weeks. Then we shall have to send our families away," he said, adding quickly, with a glance at the Capitol, "that is, if they keep us here."

"It soon becomes unbearable, the heat," the old gentleman agreed. "We always try to get away before June. I suppose you have to be careful about your little ones."

"Yes; and then Mrs. Briggs is rather run down, I think. It has been a hard Winter for her--so much entertaining."

"It's wonderful how they stand it," the Senator said, musingly. A delicate moisture had broken out on his smooth, fine face. "But I sometimes think the women bear it better than the men. When I first came here I went about a good deal. But that was more than a quarter of a century ago. The life was simpler then; though, coming from the country as I did, it seemed gay enough. There's poor Braddon from Kentucky. You knew him, of course. I went down to his funeral the other day. It was this infernal entertaining that killed him--too many dinners. The last time I talked with him he told me he had eaten twenty-three public dinners in something less than three weeks. The wonder is that it doesn't kill more of them. I suppose it does--only we say they died of something else." He looked curiously at Briggs through his big gold-framed spectacles. "How do you stand it?" he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he went on: "But you youngsters don't mind those things as we old fellows do."

Douglas Briggs laughed. "Oh, I'm not so young, Senator. I turned forty more than two years ago."

"But you look very young," the Senator insisted, amiably. "And I'm always hearing of you at the great dinners. I see your speeches in the newspapers."

"No?" the old gentleman asked, softly.

"That is, I never think of eating all they put before me. If I did, I should have shared Braddon's fate long ago. My first Winter of public dinners gave me a fierce attack of gout. Now when I dine out I taste the soup and I eat the roast and the salad. The rest of the dinner I pass by."

The Senator's eyes twinkled. "Very sensible, very sensible," he said. He patted Briggs on the shoulder with the kindly patronage of the older man. "That's why you keep your color and your clear eye. That's right. That's right." He shook his head and his face wrinkled with pleasure. "I only wish we had a few more sensible young fellows like you in Congress."

They clasped hands at the foot of the steep flight of steps. "I hope we shall see you to-night," said Briggs.

The Senator shook his head. "Oh, no; those dissipations aren't for us. We keep away from crowds. But we'd like to see your new house," he added, pleasantly. "My wife and I will look in some afternoon."

Douglas Briggs walked down the street with a glow of amusement and pleasure. He felt proud of his friendship with one of the oldest and most distinguished Senators in Washington. He had reached the age, too, when he enjoyed being treated like a young man; it gave him reassurance. As he passed Congressman Burton's house he noticed a line of carriages extending far up the street. Then he remembered that the Burtons were having a reception. "I ought to have asked Helen to go," he thought. Then he was glad he had not asked her. She would need all her strength for the night; he had been putting too many burdens on her, of late.

This afternoon he was in one of his moods of fine physical exhilaration. He had had an exciting day in the House; but now he turned from all thought of care and looked forward with a boy's delight to the evening. His wife had asked a few people to dinner to celebrate their establishment in their new house, and for the reception that would follow she had invited nearly everyone in Washington that they knew. As he approached the house he viewed it with a glow of satisfaction. He had secured one of the most desirable corner lots in Washington, and Hanscomb, whom he considered the best architect in the country, had built on it a structure that Briggs proudly considered an ornament to the city. It would be associated with him as other houses were associated with men conspicuous in Washington life.

On the sidewalk Michael, the servant whom Douglas Briggs had employed ever since becoming a house-holder in Washington, was supervising the arranging of the carpet on the steps and the hanging of the awning.

"Well, Michael, how goes it?" Briggs asked, pleasantly.

"All right, sir. The back of the work is broken," Michael replied, with a grin. He brushed down his thick red hair and rubbed his hand over the perspiration on his forehead.

"Have those men come from the caterer's?"

"The naygurs, sir? They arrived an hour ago, an' ye'd think they owned the place."

"Well, let them own it while they're here," said Briggs, severely, apprehensive of Michael's great fault, a fondness for interfering with other servants and making trouble.

"Div'l the word I've had with 'em, sir!" Michael exclaimed with a look of scorn.

"Very well!" Briggs commented, severely. He was fond of Michael, whom he knew he could trust; but he had to be severe with the fellow.

When Briggs entered, a young girl met him in the hall. "Oh, here you are! I've been watching for you all the afternoon. Why didn't you come home before, you naughty man?"

She put her arms on his shoulders, and he bent forward to be kissed. "I couldn't," Briggs explained; "I've been too busy."

"Oh, Guy," the girl cried, running to the broad staircase at the back of the hall, "Uncle Doug has come." She turned swiftly to her uncle. "Oh, you should have seen us work this afternoon, Guy and me! We've been helping Mrs. Farnsworth with the flowers. I've decorated the dining-room all myself." She seized Douglas Briggs by the arm and tried to drag him with her. "Come along and see."

He drew his arm away gently. "I mustn't now, Fanny. I'll see it by-and-by. I ought to get ready for dinner. Where's your aunt?"

"Aunt Helen's in the drawing-room. She has a caller, I think."

Briggs frowned. "Hasn't she taken a rest?"

Fanny shook her head and looked serious. "I tried to make her, but she wouldn't. She said there were too many things to do. But Guy and I were attending to everything," she concluded, with importance.

Briggs turned away and smiled. "Children awake?" he asked, as he removed his coat.

Briggs had turned away absent-mindedly and started up the stairs. As he passed the door of the drawing-room he heard a rustle of skirts, and a sharp voice exclaimed:

"Why, there's your husband now!"

He stopped and turned back. "Oh, Mrs. Burrell, how do you do?" he said, abruptly. He extended his hand, and the old lady grasped it with enthusiasm.

"I've been all over your house," she said.

"It's simply the loveliest place I've ever seen. I've just been telling your wife," she went on, "that I don't see how Paradise can be any better than this."

Briggs smiled. Then he turned to his wife and kissed her on the cheek.

"Well, it does me good to see you do that!" Mrs. Burrell declared. "It's the only real home-like thing I've seen since I come to Washington." She took a long breath. "I was saying to Mr. Burrell yesterday that if we didn't know you and Mrs. Briggs we'd think there was no such thing as home life in Washington."

"Oh, there's a lot of it," Briggs asserted, jocularly. "Only they keep it dark."

"It seems to me there's nothing but wire-pulling, wire-pulling, everybody trying to get ahead of everybody else. It makes me sick. Still, I suppose I'm doing a little of that myself just now," she went on, with a nervous laugh. "What do you suppose I come here for to-day, Mr. Briggs? I ought to be ashamed bothering your wife just when she's going to have a big party. But I knew it would just break my girls' hearts if they didn't come to-night. So I've asked if I couldn't bring 'em."

"Quite right, quite right," said Briggs, cheerfully, but with the absent look still in his eyes.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet