Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1871-01-27
Tales aud Sketehes.
MRS. rnOMPsOy's WHITE wARE.

son.
IL took 1t out of the cellar since you
came in. l will 60 down and get you
some more, if you think l had better, -
was the reply, given pleasantly.
Never mind. Well, l declare Do
you call this meat boiled ?" went on Mr.
thompson. as he began to carve. 'It's
harder than a rock. If meat has to be
cooked pretty fresh this weather, it needn't
be like this
II tried to have it nice, Robert she
said, striving to choke down rising sob
as well as an angry word.
Mr.. Thompson, aroused by quiver in
the tone, looked at his wife; his friends
looked at one another. She sat down at
length, but could not eat. Mr. Thompson
finished his meal in silence.
He was watching his wife's face; there
was something in it he did not under
stand-a kind of patient. hopeless look,
as If she no longer cared to struggle on
ward. The old mulberry ware did look
dingy on the snowy white tablecloth al
most too bad for these chums of his to
sit down to; he wondered that he had never
thought of that before. Robert Thompson
grew thoughtful.
He passed into the kitchen when they
were going out again--how hot and sitting
it felt with that big fire, as bad as the
cooking; that must have made her face
scarlet. Indoors was not so comfortable
q place after all, if you had hot work to
do, was the idea that fitted through his
mind. And, perhaps, the work was over
much for his wife, who at best was but a
delicate woman.
A fresh, cool breeze had sprung up
from the south as he went out, walking
slowly, but the sun was burning hot still
Robert Thompson waited to wipe his
brows; and in that moment the voice of
his comrades came toward him from the
other side of the hedge, where they stood
in the little shade it cast.
81 never pitied woman so much in
my life," quoth one of them. "She works
like slave, and does not get even
thank ye' for it from Thompson. He's
a good fellow, but uncommon down upon
the work. Strong as a horse himself, he
thinks, l suppose, women must be the
same"
"Yes, Bobs a sterling good fellow, but
Jane Lawrence made a mistake when she
said yes to his asking" said the other.
"Jones, she wasn't cut out for farmers
wife, especially one who keeps his folks
to it like Thompson does. She's over sem
sitive-delicate any lady but her would
have turned lone ago and bid him give
her proper help. He won't make his
money out of her many years, if he don't
take better care of her, she'll run down
fast. Awfully changed she is; she looks
as faded as the old house rooms-and they
haven't seen coat of paint since grand
father Thompson's day"
"Ah, she'd better have took Joe Burn
ham. The Lawrences used to have things
nice in their home, and she'd have got 'em
so still If she'd married Joe. HIS wife's
Just gone out in her pony shay. say,
Jones, / wonder whether Thompson's
wife's ever sorry?"
| Was she ? The unconscious comments
of these, his warm friends, came crushing
down on Robert Thompson's heart and
brain like a bolt Of fire. That she reject
ed Burnham tor him he knew, when she
came home to the old homestead and took
care of his invalid mother. Tendarly had
she done it, too. Could she be wearing
out her life in hard work for him; she the
mother of his boys; she whom he loved
well. for all his curlishness Robert
Thompson stole away; he could bear his
thoughts no longer, and he felt that he
could almost kill himself for his blind
heedlessness.
| The afternoon wore on toward evening.
Mrs. Thompson had finished her indoor
work-the washing up of the dinner dishes
and the putting of the rooms straight
and was going in with an armful of fine
things that she had taken from the clothes
lines, when the sound of wheels made her
look round.
h,,pnrrhf hat Mrc
Thompson" said the brisk voice of Grover
springing from his cart and lifting down
carefully large hamper.
"But didn't order it, Mr.. Grover" she
rejoined in rather a frightened voice.
The master did, though. Mr.. Thonip-
son come down this afternoon, and said
the things were to come up to you at once.
There's the dinner-set you admired and a
tea-set as we'll Where shall put 'em ?"
Bring them in please" she answered
rather family. He did hs he was bid, and
then drove off.
Mrs. Thompson sat down by the hamper
of crockery, and cried as if her heart
would break. They were magical tears.
too, for they washed all the WEAKNESS and
despair from her face, and the shadow
from her eyes and heart. She forgot that
she was tired or that the day was hot
she only thought how kind Robert was,
and what wicked woman she had been
fer saying to herself in her temper that
she'd rather have had Squire Burnham.
Then she unpacked the treasure, pulling
them out from amidst the hay, and sing
ing softly all the while. Oh, it was beau
tiful, that ware! with its clear opaque
white, and here and there delicate trac-
ing of fuchsia or convolvulus.
Mr. Thompson came in and found her
in the midst. "What is it, Jenny?" he
asked-the old fond name he used to call
her.
20 Robert" taking step toward him
He opened his arms and drew her
close to his heart, kissing her as fondly
and tenderly as he ever had in the days
of his courtship. ~ have been a brute,
little wife," he whispered, huskiy
"Can you ever forgive mep"
Forgive youP o Robert! never was
SO happy in my life! l have been to
blame! ! have not been as patient and