They Were Just Too Mean

1895

This Was the Trouble About Jim and Myra and the Gloomy Girl In Red.

"The world is hollow," remarked the girl in red.

"It is," gloomily assented the girl whose new gown does not fit, "but I don't see how you ever found it out."

"By accident, dear. It happened the day after the cards were sent out. I had a note from Dan saying that he must see me once more before I was Jim's wife. Of course I didn't really care for Dan, but it is soothing to one's vanity to know that the best man is dying of envy of the bridegroom, who has no idea of it."

"So you said you would see him?"

"I did. I felt that it would do Jim no harm if Dan did tell me once more that life was a blank without me, and it was really my last chance too. Still I didn't dare to let him come to the house."

"But where else could you see him?"

"At Myra's. She is to be maid of honor, you know, and Jim used to be quite devoted to her, so I knew she'd never dare to tell on me lest people would think her jealous."

"When I want advice, I shall know where to come for it."

"Very well, do. Well, I didn't send her word that I was coming, for I didn't want anything down on paper. As luck would have it, just as I was starting Jim sent up a box of roses and a melancholy note saying that a business engagement he couldn't shirk would prevent him from coming up that evening."

"You were in luck."

"So I thought. Well, I just throw myself on Myra's mercy. She wasn't a bit pleased, as I could see, but she submitted with the best grace she could. She said she would keep everybody out of the library so we could have a long, quiet evening, and not to worry about her, as she would probably have company."

"That was nice of her."

"Oh, very nice. Dan came early, and we had a perfectly lovely time. He begged me to elope the day before the wedding, recited two poems about his despair and hinted at suicide. Oh, it was splendid! I cried myself almost to a jelly. At about half past 10 I really couldn't stand it any longer, so I told Dan that we must go in and speak to Myra, for the front parlor was so quiet that her caller had evidently failed to come. So, after another eternal farewell, we went in."

"Well?"

"It wasn't well — it was ill! Myra's caller was there. He was Jim. He was holding her hand and bidding her goodby forever! Oh, was ever a poor girl so cruelly deceived as I?" — Chicago Tribune.