The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1884-12-20
n I have explained to him that

l'Siy 4oiSsiy W ~ away, lOI Call SC
| that he is greatly agitated.
| But he is very courteous old gentle
man, perceive, as he makes me al
| old fashioned bow, with his hand upol
the door.
"Young lady," he says, with a pa
t,etic little quaver in his voice, "yo,
have given me back something of infin
| itely greater value than this money
my confidence in human nature. ;
| And then he asks me my name. MI
pride takes little alarm, as l thinl
| perhaps he is about to offer me re-
ward. So l assume my must dignifeo
al as I answer, "Mrs. Thomas Wicker
Asiam.n
| But I am not exactly prepared fol
tlasensation my announcement creates.
I . -are-Tom's wife |" he gasps,
a little disconnectedly. And then he
adds, half deprecating1y:
/ ri am your husbands uncle, my
dear. Will you shake hands with me. +"
Of course / cannot decline to shake
| hands with Toms uncle, but I do it a
little proudly; for sudden light has
broken upon me, and I feel little
stunned by the den0uement, as they
would term it in a novel. The story is
this: My husband had been reared and
educated by this same bachelor uncle.
One day some money had disappeared
money which had been brought in bysa
tenant and put away by the uncle, with
no one at hand to witness it but Tom.
There was either real or fancied dis
trust in the old mans mode of ques-
tioning.
At any rate Tom was fiery and head
long in those days-my poor Tom,
who permitted his children to ride over
him roughshod, with almost exasperat
ing patience--and the uncle was irrita-
BILE and suspicious.
1t ended by TOMS declaring he
could not eat the bread of the man who
suspected him of theft, and so they
parted.
Briefly my husband had told me this
sad story of his youth, but he was even
yet keenly sensitive about it, and /
knew that it had clouded the sunshine
of his young days. But he had strug-
gled bravely on without friends or
favors-only how was he ever to get
his foot upon the rung of fortune with
five little Wickershalns to hold him
down.
Ofcourse, this all happened long ago,
before I even knew Tom. Tom is ten
years older than 1. The dearest, kind
est fellow, without trace of that fiery
impetuosity which marked his earlier
days. If he has fault, it is a certain
placid abstractedness, which makes me
sometimes little doubtful whether he
has heard me, after I have made my
best efforts in the way of talking.
But think I will be able to gain his
, attention this time, as I roll luxuriously
homeward, in splendid landau, with
tall coachman towering above me,
Toms uncle by my side.
For he has expressed desire to see
Toms children; and as we drive along,
I listen with willing ears to anecdotes
of Toms boyhood-what a wonderful
boy he must have been-and my heart
warns to the dear old man, when I find
how dearly he loves Tom.
When we draw up before our modest
little home, l rush up stairs and find
the children amicably adjusting the
disposition of the chiffonier. / wash
their faces in whirl-tear off theil
dirty pinafores, and send them down
stairs to their new uncle. "And mind
Ted," I admonish, with a warning
forefnger-"No impertinent question
ings, if you please"
Ted is perched on his uncle's knee,
and we are all very merry, when my
listening ears catch the sound of Toms
latch key inserted in the door.
l rush out into the hall, and give him
a rapid, if not over lucid summary oil
affairs. I don't understand it very
plainly myself. How can any house.
keeper understand a piece of furniture
going untouched for fifteen years-just
rubbed up bit on the outside, 1 sup.
pose. 1t goes to show what bache.
lor's establishment must be. Every week
1 find some article of the children.
jammed behind the bureau drawers
after looking everywhere else for it.
But this is depression
l am very happy woman as 1 si
watching my husband and his uncle
while they talk over old times, with
eyes that looks suspiciously moist.
cat least, Rosie, you cannot be ac
cused of indecision of character" say.
my husband, smiling, when I have
again recounted the particulars of my
discovery.
s'I suppose the moral is: Scrub ou
your chiffoniers," I say, feeling that
must say something.
"Or else buy them secondhand, .
adds my husband, lightly.
"Do you know, uncle, I thought
recognized some of the old furniture
under the hammer-the old associations
i.Eame back so strongly, that could not
resist wishing to own something as
reminder of the old days."
"God bless you for it, Tom," say
his uncle, fervently.
"And you, Rosie" says my husband
taking my hand in his: "May HEAVIER
bless you, as the most untiring, unset
fish little wife, that ever poor mar
was blessed with" lean assure you thi:
is a great deal for Tom to say, and il
very nearly melts me to tears.
| So the good things of this world have
come to us at last.
And Tom may have a new overcoat
and Teddie the rocking-horse, SO long
coveted.
For next week we are to move into
Toms old home, which had grown in
suferable to the old man in his loneli
ness. Under my regime, promise
there will be no fifty-dollar bills lying
be,aW for fifteen years; but my chiffo
nier shall occupy post of honor, as {
sort of monument to our good fortune
And indeed this is happy Christ
| mas tide for all of us.