Whig and tribune. [volume] (Jackson, Tenn.) 1870-1877, 1872-09-14
EASY TO BE AIIsTA KEN.

"Will you let me have it, John"
"NO, George, l can't"
John Randall uttered his refusal
of his wife's request very decidedly,
as if he felt that the request was un-
reasonable; and yet there was an
undercurrent of grieved impatience
i'm his voice, and look of perplexi-
ty and Standardization in his
ewes. He wanted to see his wife
rise from the breakfast-table, and
thereby -ignify her acquiescence in
his decision, before he went off for
his morning walk to the mill.
George, however, did not rise
Her looks did not express acqui-
escence. She was avery pretty wo-
man-very pretty; tall, slight, very
fair, with large, clear, steady eyes,
and profuse brown hair. Besides
her beauty, she had All air of deli
cate, graceful cOmposure rather pc
culiar, and a voice that suggested
alto flute notes. For all this she
was simply the wife of master
machinist in the great Halliburton
Print Works of Milville, and
mistress of one of the small,
white factory tenements, whose
long, orderly rows constituted Mil
Vile proper.
But George did not belong to the
factory element, although she had
married into it. She had been
brought up by a relative, upon
whom she had been left dependent,
and whom she called Aunt Apple
ton.
Aunt Appleton lived at the other
end of Appletou-the west end
among the Haliburtons, the Lilo
ways, and the Verses.
Perhaps, under the circumstances,
George might have looked a little
higher than John Randall. But then
John was as good as gOld-strOng,
steady, manly, true.
Aunt Appleton had the sense to
rejoice at the perception of her
pretty protege, and the generosity
to give her a liberal outtit-her fur
niture, a complete wardrobe, nice
wedding.
1t had been very agreeable to
George to have these things. She
was fastidious to the core. She en-
joyed advantages of position-her
good clothes, her prestige among
the wives of the other officials in
the print works. She was fastidi-
ous-perhaps q little too fastidious
for her place.
John Randall had reached his last
buttons somewhat shiny button
on a somewhat shabby coat. He
had neither time nor pretext for
lingering. At this lastImOment his
wife raised her eyes clearly, ,unflinch-
ingly, to his face.
"Why not?" she asked, in her own
sweet voice.
1t is never pleasant for a man to
be called to an account-to Gu ac-
count about money (and of course
it was money George wanted) by
woman, and that woman his wife,
Johns face flushed a little; a hot
retOrt pricked the very tip of his
tongue, but he did not utter it. He
was a very patient man, naturally;
and then he had that deep, pure love
for his pretty wife which overreach-
es all slight shocks
Il have exceeded my salary every
month since we were married,
Georgia." he said. "The first of
January will be here in q few weeks,
and / shall not be able to meet all
the bills that are due. / don't feel
that we ought to trif1e away a penny
of money. l don't believe you do,
either"
i shall say no more about it,"
she returned. 81 ought to wear a
new pair of gloves to call on PauPs
bride, but if you can't give them to
me l must do without Them"
John RandalPs brain was fine
enough to understand that this was
not the acquicscence he wanted. He
would like to indulge her, but there
was the fact that, if he begun it, he
should be always poor.
This was his fact. Georgia had
hers, also that she was always TO
be denied and disappointed. She
didn't mind so much wearing the
old gloves, on this occasion; that
which troubled her, which was
wedging itself painfully into her
convictions, was that she would
have to give up all the little luxu-
ries and elegancies that she so
craved; that her future was to be
plain matter-of-fact routine, de-
prived of those Qualifications in
whose absence she felt a sort of
moral starvation.
lit don't seem as if you ought to
be disappointed, GeOrgie," said the
husband, finally. "Hou know Just
what my salary is, and know just
how far it will go. We used to talk
about saving something every year,
so that l might better myself one
of these days. Idon't like to deny
you"
'Never mind" she said, rising
She was one of those women who
say too little rather than too much.
John went of to his work, BIidg-
ct, the girl-of-all-work, came in to
clear the table. George busted the
parlor, and made the pudding, fed
the canary, and then placed the sew
ing machine in the window, facing
the dull, leaden light of the Novem-
| her dav and sat down IN stitch