Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1874-03-12
Many are foolish enough to think
such things below them" he said, with

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"Many are foolish enough to think
such things below them" he said, with
almost n sigh.
II don't" said she, smiling, 81
think nothing below mo that helps to
make my husband happier, or to bright
Oh my home.'
1t was Il simple little saying, but
Maynard pondered on it long. Was it
the secret of household bliss?
He looked Mt her little ctargc of we'll
selected books-the guitar and pile Of
music i'll the corner-the exquisite
drawings hanging Oh the wall, which
Milford proudly told him were Amy's
own-the pine cone temples and moss
baskets, and little womanly trifes she
had amused herself witll-the bits of
embroidery-the stand Of geraniums
and helitrope-even the piled-up work
basket-and thought within himself
how true woman graces AMI. alorifics
everything on which her hand may rest |!
| Finally she came in from the Kitchen
beyond, the white apron exchanged for
a timer one of black silk, and sat down
ny the table to work, every now and
then joining in the converse with q
zest that seemed the life and spirit of
the whole. How proud MILFORD was of
her! How he appealed to her iudg-
ment on every occasion! and how fond
~ his eyes rested on her blooming face {!
She wasn't doing crochet work she
wasn't embroidering web-like muslin :;
she was just darning her husbands
stockings; and as the shining needle
cleaned i'll and out among the interlac-
ing warp and wool, Maynard thought
he had never seen a prettier or more
graceful employment.
For Amy brought spirit and soul to
her homely work that would have made
the coarsest fabric bright with the tint
of Persian looms.
And when ut length Maynard took
his leave, the reflection, "What hap
Ply fellow MILFORD is!'' was accom-
panied with something very like a sigh.
HIS home was different, far.
He breakfasted alone next morning
his wife had been out late ut ball and
seldom rose before eleven O'Clock. The
coffee was cold and muddy, even in the
frosted silver urn; the toast was burn
ed, the steak sodden and raw the fire
smouldered away under it's accumula-
tions of ashes, and he read the morning
paper alone, with no bright face oppo-
site to share his interest in each para
graph.
The button was off his wrist-band :
but no matter, Clara must not be dis
turbed-he could just pin it over for
the day his toes peeped out as he
changed slippers for boots-but never
mind, he would ask Clara tonight
where the others were. Pshaw! he
could not tie the cravat to suit him, and
dragged it into a limp knot; there was
no little wife to stand on tip-toe and ar
range it, and then get kiss for her
pains!
He went silently away, with no light
foot-step tripping after him to the door !:
the shadow of no sweet "good-bye :"
following him like guardian angel on
his way-for Clara was fashionable
wife.
At dinner time he came home, half
hoping that there would be a glance and
smile like Amy's to greet him-a
home influence around his luxurious
apartments.
"Where's Clara?''
She lounged on Il damask sofa, the
rings flashing on her slender fingers, and
her delicate figure arrayed in folds of
lnstrous silk, while the slippered foot
peeping from beneath seemed fit only
to tread the roses of life.
She hardly glanced up from the novel
she was reading as he entered-why
should she he was only her husband.
He sat down and began drumming
carelessly on the table with his fingers.
Isn't dinner nearly ready?"
II don't know. It's the cooks
business"
"But she ought to be more regular, :"
said he.
II can't help that. I wish you
wouldn't plague me about such things. I"
The tone was little pettisll, as Clara
brushed away her brown curls, and re-
sumed her book, and Maynard relapsed
into silence again.
Presently another idea struck him.
Cant you play something tonight,
Clara? The piano hasn't been opened
in an age: Come sing me some of the
old ballads"
II can't" she said listlessly; I'm
out Of practice entirely. Do let me
read"
If you'll lay aside your book after
dinner, and have good old-fashioned
evening of talk and music gossip"
Impossible! I am engaged for
every moment after seven-the opera
first, and then the fancy ball.
"Couldn't you let them go for one
EVENING""
20, no it would never dor
He was silent-but there was a dull.
dead pain at his heart-some void which
art could never fill.
The silent dinner was over; she went
forth in her shining robes, with pearls
in her hair, and bracelets clasping her
arms, to an evening of reckless dissipa-
ton and gaiety, with smiles for the
beau monde but none for home.
While Raymond after long and
gloomy reverie by his lonely firesile,
took his hat and went away to the club,
that brilliant place of gaiety and mirtl,
through whose chandeliered portals SO
many foot has trod the broad path of
destruction Poor man he had no
home.