Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1870-08-20

What was Mrs. Thompson to do?
Their stock of plates and dishes consisted
of few odds and ends of cracked delf that
had once been kind Of mulberry color.
She had long wanted some new white
ware; she wanted it more than ever now. &.
Grover, the keeper Of the village crockery
shop, had lovely spring Of convolvuli
and fuchsias, looking every bit as good as
real China. Mrs. Thompson had set her
heart on the set, aud that morning had
broached the subject to her husband.
"What is the matter with the old ones P"
asked he.
"Look Them" she answered. "They
are frightfully old and shabby"
Il dare say the food will taste as we'll
off them as off Growers set of white ware"
" But there's not half enough. We
have as good as none left"
Mother had some best china. Where
is it,"
"That's nearly all gone. We couldn't
put the two on the table together"
"Why not ?"
"Oh, Robert Look at this. 1t is the
shabbicst lot ever sccn."
Twas good enough for mother"
Mrs. Robert Thompson disdaned COM
ment.
You'd not thought of this but for the
sewing circles having to come here. If
they can't come and eat from such dishes
as we've got they are welcome to stay
away"
There were tears in Mrs. Thompson's
eyes, but she crowded them bravely back.
lie took his hat to go out to his moving.
"We really want the things, Robert.
Those at Growers are very cheap. I can
get all l want for mere triAe; do give
me the money"
"Grovcr'll have to keep 'cm for us
I've got no money to waste on fine China"
returned the farmer. "By.the.by"-look.
ing back from the door, "Joncs and Lee
are coming to give a helping hand. 1
want to get the south meadow down to-
day, if l can. It's famous heavy crop;
so l shall bring them in to dinner. Oh,
and the Hubbard's want six pounds of
butter tonight; don't forget to have it
ready"
With these words, Mr.. Robert Thomp-
son had marched off, leaving his wife to her
long, weary days work, darkencd and
made distastcful by disappointment. She
was both grievcd and angry. 1t was q
little thing, perhaps, but it is the little
things of this life that delight or annoy.
Existence seemed very bare and homely
to Jane Thompson that summer day.
With her love of ease, and beauty and
symmetry, how rude and hard looked her
surroundings. 1t was only one long,
round of homely toll, unrc.
lieved by any of the little sweetness and
graces that make even toll pleasant. She
did not often think of it; but she remem.
bered that day with the faintest little air
Of regret that she might have been far diff.
ferently situated; and as she looked up to
the pretty little cottage on the hill en-.
powered in a perfect forest Of blooming
vines, caught the cool gleam of urn and
fountain, something like sigh trcmbled
on her lips. esquire Burnha,n's wife does
not have to beg for paltry bit of money
to set her table deceutly," she thought re.
belliously.
What business had sho to marry Robert
Thompson :? she asked herself, her slender
wrists beating away at the butter for the
Hubbards. For in the green and gloomy
light that Mrs. Robert Thompson looked
at things today, she quite forgot that she
had fallen in love with the honest steady
and good looking young farmer, choosing
him in preference to Joe Burnham, whom
she might have had. Joe had a patrimony
of his own-two hundred year-at least
and good bit of land, which he rented,
and was called esquire" as his father had
been before him. He wanted to marry
Jane Lawrence, and she would not; likes
and dislikes cannot be controlled, and she
cared more for Robert Thompson's little
finger than for the whole poor, under
sized Joe. The Squire had found another
wife, and Mrs. Thompson, this weary day,
was furiously euvying her. Mrs. Burn
ham would come amidst the rest Of the
sewing club, too, aud see the miserable
shabb;ness Of the mulberry ware, and the
home generally. The butter got beaten
savagcly at the thought.