Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1877-03-08

souriug her spirits. Now and then,
when she gave back sharp or bitter
retort, Robert wondered: she who
used to be so sweet-tempered.
All through the long forenoon Mrs.
Thompson nursed her wrath. Robert
was st fish and unreasonable, and she
did not care who knew it. She aooutd
not have the sewing-club at the farm,
come what might The potatoes got
boiled; the big piece of beef was sim
mering on the fire. Before twelve
o'clock had well struck, she saw her
husband and his two friends coming
through the orchard, with red and
hungry faces. Mr.. Thompson always
wanted his dinner boiling hot: and
she fastened to lay the cloth in the
cool room off the kitchen. Frank and
Charley, her boys, came rushing in
from school, each striving to claim
her attention. She felt tired, heated,
and very cross.
"Why! isn't dinner ready?" deman-
ded Mr.. Thompson, not seeing it ac-
tually on the table when he entered.
81 told You we had no time to waste
to-day" he added angrily, in his
haste and hunger. fl hadn't any
thing to do all the forenoon but get
dinner, I'd have it ready to time, |
know.
A bitter retort was springing to her
lips; but ere it could be spoke, Char
lev DANGEROUSLY interposed, pushing
his new copy-book before her eyes.
"Look, mother! am going into
sentences now, like Frank. The mas.
ter wrote it; aud he said was to get
it by heart, too. and always remem-
Der it. Do read it, mother"
Mrs. Thompson, her arms full of
the cracked old mulberry plates,
paused moment to let her eyes fall
on the new copy. "a soft answer
turneth away WRATH" was what she
read. 1t was not that the proverb
was new: she had read it scores of
times: but there was something in its
appropriateness To the present mo-
ment. that fell like cool, sweet wind
on her heated pulses.
T will have it ready ia moment,
Robert. she said quietly.
Mr.. Robert Thompson looked up.
Evidently he had not expected so
pleasant reply. If the truth must be
told. he had thought a good bit that
| morning of his wife's request about
the white ware. Not in the way of
granting il; but that she would prob
ably be sulky over it when they got
in to dinner.
att doesn't feel here as it does in
that blazing meadow" he remarked
to his friends, as they went into the
cool north room to dinner. "Folks
that can keep indoors this weather
have an easy time Of IL: they don't
know what heat is.
Mrs. Thompson wondered whether
this was clap at her. Her face look
ed scarlet enough for any amount OF
heat. AS to sitting down with them,
she had enough to wait on the party.
II was washing day, and Molly must
not be called.
"This butter must have been kept in
the kitchen: it's like OIL" said Mr..
Thompson.
81 took it out of the cellar since
Won came in; l will get some more II
You think | had BETTER" was the re-
ply, given pleasantly.
"Neyer mind. Well. | declared
do you call this meat boiled?" went
on Mr.. Thompson, as he began to
carve. "It's harder than rock. Ii
meat has to be cooked pretty fresh !,
this weather, it needn't be like this. .
"I tried to have it nice, Robert"
she said, striving to choke down RI
sing sob-as well as an angry word.
Mr.. Thompson, aroused by culver
in the tone, looked at his wife: his
friends glanced at one another. She
sat down at length, but could not eat.
Mr.. Thompson finished his dinner IN
silence.
| He was watching his wife's face:
there was something in it he did not
understands kind of patient, hope
less look, az if she no longer cared to
struggle onward. The old mulberry
ware did look dingy on the snowy
white table-cloth; almost too bad for
these chums of his to sit down to: he
| wondered he had never thought so be-
fore. Robert Thompson grew thought
full.
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 south meadow. His
wife had been in it cooking: that must
have made her face scarlet Indoors
was not so comfortable 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 mp
from the south as he went out, walk
ing slowly; but the sun was burning
hot still. Robert Thompson waited to
wipe his brows: and in that moment
the voices of his comrades came to.
wards 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 a slave, and does not get
even thank ye' for it from Thompson
He's a good fellow, but uncommon
down on work. Strong as horse him
self. he thinks, suppose, women mus.
be the same"
eyes. Bob's sterling good fellow,
but Jane Lawrence made mistake
when she said Yes to his asking" cried
the other. "Jones. she wasn't cut
ont for a farmers wife--especially
one who keeps his folks to it like
Thompson does. She's over sensi-
tlve-delicate: any lady but her
would have turned long ago and bid
him give her proper help. He won't
make his mnoey out of her many
years if he don't take better care OF
| har. she'll rnp Jowp fo.t a.uc.JIx =,