The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1870-10-28

ment a. the queer things women
wanted, and make his guess what
piping was, demanded fisrcely the
name Of hug me-tight, or wondered
how little thing composed OF three
rosebuds, bit of velvet and q pair of
strings, could possibly be bonnet.
and cost five or six dollars. That
night he looked as though he would
like the fun of quizZing her figures
and pretending to be Mortified at her
extravagance, as he often did, being
particularly proud of his prudent
wife.
The little book was brought slowly
out, and laid down before him. Meg
got behind his chair, under pretense
Of smoothing the wrinkles out of his
tired forehead, and standing there
she said, with her panic increasing
with every word:
John, dear. I'm ashamed to show
you my book. for I've been dreadfully
eztravagsnt lately. 60 about so
much | must have things. you know,
and Sallie advised me to got it, 50 |
did and my New Years money will
+ partly pay for il, but was sorry after
I'd done it, for knew you'd think it
wrongin me"
John laughed, and drew her round
beside him, saying, good humoredly:
Don't 60 and hide, won beat you
If you have got pair of gillink boots ;
I'm rather proud of my wife's feet,
and don't mind if she does pay eight
or nine dollars for her boots, if they
are good ones"
That had been one of her last tribes,
and Johns eyes had fallen on it as he
spoke.
"Oh, what will he say when he
comes to that awful ffiy dollars -
thought Meg, with a shiver.
1T is worse than boots, it's silk
dress" she said with the calmness of
desperation, for she wanted the worst
over.
swell. dear. what is the 'total?' as
Mr.. Mantalini says"
That didn't sound like John, aud
she knew he was looking at her with
the straightforward look that she had
always been ready to meet with one as
frank till now. She turned the page
and her head at the same time, point
ing to the sum that would have been
bad enough without the fifty, but
which was appalling to her with that
added. For a minute the room was
very still; then John said-but she
could feel it cost him an effort to ex-
press no displeasure -
well, / don't know that fifty is
much for dress, with all the furbe-
lows and quinnydingles you have to
furnish it off these days"
1t isn't made or trimmed" sighed
Meg, family, for sudden recollection
of the cost still to be incurred quite
overcame her.
twenty-five yards Of silk seems a
good deal to cover one small woman.
But I'veDo doubt my wife will look
as fine as Ned M0fat's, when she gets
it on" said John dryly.
II know you are angry. John, but |
can't help it; and | didn't mean TO
waste your money, and / didn't think
those little things would count up so.
I can't resist them when I see Saliie
buying all she wants, and plying me
because / don't; try to be content
ed, BUTT is hard, and | am so tired of
being poor"
The last words were spoken so low,
but he did, and they wounded him
many pleasures for Meg's sake. She
could have bitten her tongue off the
minute she said it, for John pushed
the books away and got up, saying
with little culver in his voice:
II was afraid of this; do my best,
Meg"
If he had scolded her, or even
shaken her, it would not have broken
T. > e. l.
ran to him and held him close, crying |
with repentant tears, "Oh, John my |
dear, kind, hard working boy, / didn't |
mean it! 1t was so wicked, so untrue
and uDgrateful, how could say 1t |
Oh, how could | say it
, He was very kind, forgave her |
readily. and he did not utter one re-
proach; but Meg knew that she had
done and said thing which could
not be forgotten soon, although he
might never aliude to it again. She
had promised to love him for better
for worse; and then she. his wife, had
rep. cached him with his poverty after
spending his earnings recklessly. 1t
was dreadful; and the worst Of it was,
John went on so quietly afterward,
just as if nothing had happend, except
that he stayed in town later. and
worked at night after she had gone to
cry herself to sleep. A week of re-
morse nearly made Meg sick; and the
discovery that John had counter
manded the order for his new great
coat, reduced her to a state of despair,
which was painful to behold. lie
simply said, in answer to her surprised
inquiries as to the change, Il can't
afford it, my dear"
Meg slid no more. but a few mo-
ments after he found her in the hall
with her face burisd in the old great
coat, crying as if her heart would
break. They had long talk that
night. and Meg learned to love her hus
band better for his poverty, because it
seemed to have made man of him
giving him the strength and courage
to light his own way-and taught him.
tender patience with which to bear
and comfort the natural longings and
failings of those he loved.
Next day she put her pride In her
pocket, went to Sallie, told the truth,
and asked her to buy the silk as a
favor. The good natured Mrs. Moffat
willingly did so. and had the delicacy
not TO make her a present of it, i'm
mediately afterward. Then Meg or
deIed home the great coat, aud when
John arrived, she put it on, and asked
him how he liked Ter new silk gown.
One can imagine the answer be made,
how he received his present, and what
blissful state of things ensued.
j ohm came home early. Meg gadded
no more; and that great coat was put
on In the morning by a very happy
husband, and taken off at night by a
most devoted little wife.
The
MERCHANTS, JOURNAL