The synopsis of the story is alone given, as literary style is not our object—we want mystery.
Judge Smith, a highly esteemed citizen of Plunkville, is found murdered in his bed at his home. He has been stabbed with a pair of scissors, poisoned with “rough on rats.” His throat has been cut with an ivory handled razor, an artery in his arm has been opened, and he has been shot full of buckshot from a doublebarreled gun.
+Judge Smith, a highly esteemed citizen of Plunkville, is found murdered in his bed at his home. He has been stabbed with a pair of scissors, poisoned with “rough on rats.” His throat has been cut with an ivory handled razor, an artery in his arm has been opened, and he has been shot full of buckshot from a double-barreled gun.
The coroner is summoned and the room examined. On the ceiling is a bloody footprint, and on the floor are found a lady’s lace handkerchief, embroidered with the initials “J. B.,” a package of cigarettes and a ham sandwich. The coroner renders a verdict of suicide.
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.
+One night after supper the little girl was seized with a severe colic, and John Smothers hurried downtown 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.
diff --git a/src/epub/text/an-original-idea.xhtml b/src/epub/text/an-original-idea.xhtml index 1d4645c..0ed6245 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/an-original-idea.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/an-original-idea.xhtml @@ -15,11 +15,11 @@That night when her husband came home he noticed a curtain stretched across one end of the sitting room, but he had so long been used to innovations of all sorts that he was rather afraid to investigate.
It might be stated apropos to the story that the lady’s husband was addicted to the use of beer.
He not only liked beer, but he fondly loved beer. Beer never felt the slightest jealousy when this gentleman was out of its sight.
-After supper the lady said: “Now, Robert, I have a little surprise for you. There is no need of your going down town tonight, as you generally do, because I have arranged our home so that it will supply all the pleasures that you go out to seek.”
+After supper the lady said: “Now, Robert, I have a little surprise for you. There is no need of your going downtown tonight, as you generally do, because I have arranged our home so that it will supply all the pleasures that you go out to seek.”
With that she drew the curtain and Robert saw that one end of the sitting room had been fitted up as a bar—or rather his wife’s idea of a bar.
A couple of strips of the carpet had been taken up and sawdust strewn on the floor. The kitchen table extended across the end of the room, and back of this on a shelf were arranged a formidable display of bottles, of all shapes and sizes, while the mirror of the best dresser had been taken off and placed artistically in the center.
On a trestle stood a fresh keg of beer and his wife, who had put on a coquettish-looking cap and apron, tripped lightly behind the bar, and waving a beer mug coyly at him said:
-“It’s an idea I had, Robert. I thought it would be much nicer to have you spend your money at home, and at the same time have all the amusement and pleasure that you do down town. What will you have, sir?” she continued, with fine, commercial politeness.
+“It’s an idea I had, Robert. I thought it would be much nicer to have you spend your money at home, and at the same time have all the amusement and pleasure that you do downtown. What will you have, sir?” she continued, with fine, commercial politeness.
Robert leaned against the bar and pawed the floor fruitlessly three or four times, trying to find the foot rest. He was a little stunned, as he always was at his wife’s original ideas. Then he braced himself and tried to conjure up a ghastly imitation of a smile.
‘Til take a beer, please,” he said.
His wife drew the beer, laid the nickel on the shelf and leaned on the bar, chatting familiarly on the topics of the day after the manner of bartenders.
diff --git a/src/epub/text/her-ruse.xhtml b/src/epub/text/her-ruse.xhtml index f91dfd9..6dce30b 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/her-ruse.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/her-ruse.xhtml @@ -9,7 +9,7 @@“How do I keep John home of nights?” asked a Houston lady of a friend the other day.
-“Well, I struck a plan once by a sudden inspiration, and it worked very nicely. John had been in a habit of going down town every night after supper and staying until ten or eleven o’clock. One night he left as usual, and after going three or four blocks he found he had forgotten his umbrella and came back for it. I was in the sitting room reading, and he slipped in the room on his tiptoes and came up behind me and put his hands over my eyes. John expected me to be very much startled, I suppose, but I only said softly, ‘Is that you, Tom?’ John hasn’t been down town at night since.”
+“Well, I struck a plan once by a sudden inspiration, and it worked very nicely. John had been in a habit of going downtown every night after supper and staying until ten or eleven o’clock. One night he left as usual, and after going three or four blocks he found he had forgotten his umbrella and came back for it. I was in the sitting room reading, and he slipped in the room on his tiptoes and came up behind me and put his hands over my eyes. John expected me to be very much startled, I suppose, but I only said softly, ‘Is that you, Tom?’ John hasn’t been downtown at night since.”