Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1883-05-23

She was patching pair of old and
dirty trousers which had reached the
vexatious age that required patch upon
patch to make them preseutable,
r 81 could do more work than you do,
Mrs. HaTcourt, and get along with less
money, and carry rail on my shoulder
ali the time, at that!" said Harry Har-
court, contemptuously.
"Could you, now?" asked the pale
little woman, with bitter smile.
:Of course [ could Women have no
responsibilities. I support my family
and bear all the burdens of life. / can
remember, too, since reflections are in
order, Mrs. HarcUurt, that there was a
time when | had no cares nor respor ST.
bilities, no wife nor children to bother
me, and nothing under the sun to rUlffie
my temper"
"Would you like to be rid of me,
Harry?" s.. a#E
The indignant husband did not answer
in words, but he gave vent to a pro-
longed whistle and left the door, bang
ing the door after him with a vim that
Jared the whole house and set her nerves
a-tingling like so many stinging bees in
swarming time. .-.....
The baby sobb d itself into a grieved
and uneasy slumber, the tandem team
and rollicking drive of boys skurried off
into the woodshed, and the house was
still again.
In little while the trousers we're
mended, but the overturned contents of
the upset work-basket fairy appalled,
her as she contemplated the promiscu-
GUS piIe--socks out at toes and heels and
ragged in the ribbing; shirts, minus but
tons, with sleeves torn at the elbows,
and wristbands frayed at the edges;
jackets with Innings torn and pockets
worn into shreds, more trousers, torn
mitten, two school books to cover, an a
lunch-bag to supply with a new strap.
1t was almost supper time, too, and this
was Saturday.
Mrs. Harcourt was far too conscien-
tious to do any work on Sunday that
could be avoided, and all this amount of
"easy, irresponsible work" must be fin
ished before she could sleep.
Monday would bring another school
day, and it would also bring about the
inevitable washing. The CHILDREN ''must
look like other children" if their mother
lost her life in the effort to keep them
scrubbed and fed and whole and clean.
Mrs. Harcourt tiptoed softly out of the
room.
The baby was nervous, like herself
no wonder poor thing-and was easily
awakened from its fitful slumbers.
There was no kindling wood for the
kitchen stove, but Mrs. Harcourt was
used to that. She split pi ce of pitch
pine into sphnters and soon had roaring
fire and red-hot oven. In her haste to
prepare the meal before the baby should
awake and cry, she burnt her meat and
scoIched her potatoes and burned
heavy crust on her biscuit
So the supper was indigestible-an
unusual thing--but Harry ate heartily
and as usuaI retired early to rest, leav-
ing his pale-faced wife to wash the
dishes and scrub the children, and after
they we're safe in bed, apply herself to
finish. the huge basket of mending be-
fore the mantle clock should chime the
hour of midnight.
Harry Harcourt felt little anxious
and a trife mean as he watched her fur
lively and saw how very pale and weary
she was; but be was not the man to IN
bend from bis fancied dignity, nor did
he really believe that his wife deserved
his sympathy. He 10y upon his back in
the bedroom adjoining leaving the door
slightly aiar.
Stitch, stitch, stitch, went the weary
fingers of his pale-faced wife, So the
hours went Oh, her feet IN the meantime
keeping up a ceaseless rock, rock, rock,
with the swaying cradle.
Harry Harcourt was uneasy. Perhaps
1t was his supper, perhaps it was his
conscience. But his stomach and his
conscience were alike imperv;ous to ordi-
nary disturbances, and [ leave the rea-
der to guess the cause of his uneasiness.
He raised up on his elbow and g8zed
out into the room where his wife was
sewing.
Stitch, stitch, stitch; rock, rock, rock.
Would the stitching end rocking never
stop?
''But pshaw!" thought Harry Har-
easy? A woman's work is nothing. Let
her stitch and let her rock. It's what
women are made for
Still he could not help reclining there
and watching her.
The clock struck eleven, and still her
silent, weary work went on; and, as
Harry Harcourt gazed, he fancied that
her entire brain and body became trans
parent, and could see himself reflected
in her thoughts as he had never seen
himself before. Yes, yes" she soIilo-
pulsed, and her mental thoughts thrilled
his like electricity, Harry thinks he is
the head of this family, and its only
provider, stay and support, But bless
him, he doesn't know. I guess Til re-
tire from the firm and give him much
needed lesson"
= And she bent low over the cradle and
kissed the sleeping baby, and even while
he gazed at her she disappeared.
What had become of her?
Harry Harcourt arose from his couch
and put on his clothes and approached
the cradle reverently and cautiously.
Near it was her low rocking chair, and
by it's side the heaped-up work basket,
and her scissors, spool and thimble. On |
the floor which was yet damp from the
after supper hopping it had received
when the children and himself were in
bed, lay a promiscuous array of old |