Mister Dingledine, Robert F. Clifton [funny books to read txt] 📗

it came time for marriage. In these things, Alberta had been well schooled. When it came to education she saw herself unlike the young women of her time. Others were content to marry and more or less become the property of their husbands. They were satisfied, allowing their husbands to make all or nearly all of the decisions regarding her life. Not so when it came to Alberta. She saw herself not a subservient to men or an equal. In her mind she was superior. It was not she that went to the homes of young men to begin a courtship. No, young men came to her and she delighted knowing just how disappointed they were when she refused their proposals. Yet, it was older men that she fancied. Older men were more mature, set in their ways and in some cases, educated. Alberta was educated having graduated from high school and then Normal School. She had prepared herself for a profession in which she could perform for many years. At the same time, she was confident, knowing that she was much more qualified than many of her male counterparts at the school.

Deep inside she resented the fact that some of the teachers at the high school operated under a mere high school diploma. One such individual was Herbert Dingledine. Often she would watch him as he sat alone at a table in the faculty lunch room eating a sandwich brought from home as he read a newspaper.

She noticed that the newspaper was not the same every day and realized that in all probability the man was reading discarded papers left on the trolly car by people each morning. She also noticed that he had a habit of stroking his mustache after each bite of sandwich or sip of tea as if he was afraid that it had changed shape or color. He was married and from what she could determine not happily. To her, he presented himself to be the perfect object for her venture. She would seduce him. Not sexually, but mentally. She wanted him to want her, to need her, to want to be with her constantly. He would become her subordinate, doing what she said, what she ordered. Alberta smiled to herself as she watched him from across the faculty lunch room.

On the evening of Friday, November sixteen, 1900 Herbert Dingledine stood in front of the Academy Of Music, located at Broad and Locust Streets in Philadelphia. A cool, night, autumn breeze gently blew issuing a warning that winter was on the way. As each trolly car stopped and discharged passengers Herbert looked anxiously, searching for the sight of Alberta Collins. From time to time he removed his pocket watch from his vest pocket, noted the time then replaced it, only to check the time again. Finally, he saw her. She crossed the street and upon seeing him waved a hand.

When she stood in front of him she asked, “Have you been waiting long?”

“No,” he answered with a lie.

“Good, then let’s go inside. I want to get seats as close as possible near the front row in the balcony,” she said.

Herbert smiled. Alberta was attired in a black, wool suit consisting of a skirt and jacket, white blouse and a black straw hat with feathers. “Ethel has a suit just like Alberta’s. It cost me almost thirteen dollars,” he thought. “Then I suggest we go inside,” he said, delighted when she took his arm.

They were able to find two seats in the second row of the balcony and once seated and comfortable Alberta reached up with two hands and removed her hat by first removing the long, hat pin. As she did Herbert read the program. He was happy to learn that one of the numbers to be played by the orchestra was

Rimsky-Korsacov’s Flight Of The Bumble Bee. He had heard the tune played on a record player and was amazed at the sound of the violins portraying the sound of a bee in flight. After that the orchestra would perform, playing, Scheherazade. Something

Herbert had not heard before. Reading the program he learned that the music was in relation to the Tales Of a Thousand And One nights. He looked forwards to hearing it.

After the concert, the couple made their way out of the balcony onto the lobby and then, outside. Alberta turned and said, “Thank you, Herbert, for escorting me.”

“Actually, the pleasure was all mine. Thank you for inviting me. Now, if I may, I’d like to escort you home.”

“Thank you, no. As I mentioned, my cousin, a member of the orchestra will see me home. I will wait for him here.”

“Then, may I wait with you?”

“Of course. He’ll be easy to find in the crowd. He’ll be carrying a cello in its case.”

“In that event, I believe he is approaching as we speak.”

“Ah yes. Herbert, allow me to introduce you to my cousin Andrew,” said Alberta.

Herbert shook hands with the man and said, “It is indeed a pleasure to meet you sir. May I also say how much I and I assume we, enjoyed the concert.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” said Andrew.”

“It must be a difficult score to play,” Herbert continued.

“Actually there is much cello in the Sinbad And The Vessel Is Lost. Duplicating the sound of a storm is what is required in our section,” Andrew related.

“I see. Well, in any event, the concert was superb. Now, that you are here to escort Alberta home I bid you both a good night,” said Herbert as he tipped his hat.

When Herbert arrived home it was nearly ten o’clock in the evening. He quietly entered the living room expecting to see Ethel in her usual position on the sofa. To his surprise she wasn’t there. He stood silently for a moment listening. Soon he detected the sound of her soft snoring. She was in bed and asleep.

On the following Monday morning, he looked forward to seeing and talking with Alberta at lunch. Much to his disappointment upon his arrival in the lunch room, he saw that Helen Morris, a history teacher sat at the table with Alberta.

Not knowing what to do he stood in silence looking at her and at the same time held his brown paper bag containing his sandwich. He saw an empty table and turned to walk to it when he heard Alberta call, “Mister Dingledine, won’t you join us?”

He turned with a questionable look on his face, then forcing a smile, said, “Of course. I don’t want to interrupt anything,” as he approached the table.

“You won’t be. Sit down and have your lunch. I’m sure you know Miss Morris,” said Alberta.

“Yes of course. How are you, Miss Morris?”

“Fine Mr. Dingledine and may I ask how you are and also your wife, Ethel?”, asked Helen.

“Ethel I’m afraid is poorly, but then again its been said that she has a delicate condition,” he replied.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that Mister Dingledine. Surely looking after a woman in declining health must be burdensome”, said Alberta all the while enjoying Herbert’s discomfort in speaking about his wife.

“One does what one has to do,” Herbert responded.

“I find it sad that our youth and vitality leaves us too soon. Leaving us aging and depending on someone else to take care of us,” said Alberta looking directly at Herbert.

“I assume that you’re referring to the situation with your mother,” said Helen.

“Of course,” Alberta answered.

“Well, I must leave you two. I have things t do before my next class. It was nice seeing you Mister Dingledine, said Helen Morris. Dingledine rose out of his chair as Helen got up and left.

He sat down again and slowly reached into the paper bag for his sandwich. “Well Herbert, soon it will be Thanksgiving and then Christmas. Time is rushing by, don’t you think?”

“Yes, yes indeed.”

“Have you decided on what you will give your wife for Christmas?’, asked Alberta.

“Yes, a bed jacket.”

“I see. You must think that it’s appropriate”

“Yes, I do.”

“ I must mention something Herbert and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. You see, the school will be closed for the holidays. That means I won’t be able to see you. As your friend I want you to know that I worry about you. My question is how will I know how you are during that time?”

“Why do you worry about me?”, he asked.

“Herbert, I’m sure by now that you know that you and I have a certain kind of friendship. May I suggest something?”

“Certainly.”

“Will you meet me on Saturdays?”

“Of course. Where?”

“The Public Library.”

“On Chestnut Street?”

“Yes, silly. It’s the only one.”

“I have heard that it is not very clean there,’ he said.

“I said meet me. We don’t have to stay.”

“Fine. Then I’ll leave everything else up to you.”

“Of course, as it should be,” said Alberta with a smile.

On certain Saturdays, those always selected by Alberta, Herbert would leave the house and take the trolly to Chestnut Street. There he waited patiently for her to arrive. When she did they would then proceed to one of the many museums in the city.Again, it would Alberta who selected just which museum they would attend for the day. One day it could be the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Franklin Institute or The Pennsylvania Museum of fine Art. In her way of thinking it would not be too unusual for two teachers from the same school to be seen together. They could always claim that they were researching either art or science for a curriculum for the high school.

After their day together Herbert would race back to the library and remove and sign for Darwin’s Theory Of Evolution. Carrying the book home he would convince Ethel that he had spent the day doing research for the purpose of improving his lesson plans. She never questioned him.

Usually, each evening after Alberta saw to her mother's needs she would bathe and dressed in her nightgown and robe would then sit in the parlor and either read or listen to music played on the phonograph. She preferred classical music, but on occasion listened to such recordings as Arthur Collin’s ( no relation) “Hello My Baby.” Other evenings she would sit quietly in a rocking chair and think. Deep in thought, she would plan her next move on Herbert Dingledine. “ I must become more daring, exhibit more of my charms. Perhaps I will accidentally expose an ankle. Still, I must maintain my position as a young lady. I must not be too obvious. I want him to want me, want me so bad that it causes him heartache,” she thought.

On their next, Saturday meeting the couple walked past the hanging paintings. Alberta stopped in front of the painting, “The Huntsman And Dogs’, by Winslow Homer. She slowly turned her head, first to the left, then to the right. Seeing that no one else was about she said in a low voice, “Herbert, I’m afraid that we must stop seeing each other.”

“Why?”, asked Herbert.

“ Because you see in my opinion there is no future for us.”

“Of course there is Alberta.”

“How? You’re married and I see no movement on your part to get a divorce.”

“I’ll figure something out. Just give me time.”

“You have had plenty of time. Let me ask you. Do you love me?”

“Of course dear one. Keep in mind that I’m married to a sickly woman. I’m certain that one of the conditions of a divorce would be that she is well taken care of in the final decree. That would probably mean giving her the house and a weekly income.”

“Is that so bad? We have my house. Right now it’s mother’s, but eventually, I will inherit it. We can live very nicely there.

“You know what my weekly salary is, don’t you?”

“I’m sure that we could manage.”

“ I’ll think of something.”

“You say you will, but somehow I don’t think you will.”

“Believe me, Alberta, we’ll be together just as soon as I can get rid of Ethel.”

Alberta smiled, “ Alright Herbert, do