McCook weekly tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 188?-1886, 1884-01-17
A HAPPY FAMILY.

IL was Sunday. Mr.. Skinner was
tired, and thought he would lie down on
the sofa in the back parlor and. rest.
People never learn by experience, and
he was no exception to the common
rule.
He Law down, and crossed his feet
with parade hardly justifable under
she circumstances His wife came in
and saw him.
"Why, Lot Skinner!" she exclaimed
s'If | ever heard of the like! Lying
down on that new sofa with your boots
an, and oh, my goodness! your head on
shat lace tidy had done up only last
week. You are the most inconsiderate
man ever saw in nv life!''
MIR. Skinner got up and his wife
smo0thed out the tidy and rearranged
Ii.
ssThe idea of anybody putting head
On that tidy" said Mrs. Skinner, who
Ind no intention of using slang. 81 did
suppose you had more sense"
t'I use to have," said Mr.. Skinner
good-naturedly. "Ya-a-a-h. l could
sake nap if could find place to
drop down. Ya-a-h."
s'You had better read your bible"
said Mrs. Skinner. She was a good,
uncomfortable woman, so clean and
meat and orderly that she made her
family wretched with her domestic
drill.
Something called Mrs. Skinner off
then, and when she came back Mr..
Skinner was gone. She sat down and
took book, when a thought struck
her, and she bounded from her chair as
II it had been "a cannon ball.
Yes, it was just as she had feared;
her husband had gone up stairs, and she
found him stretchhd out on the bed, on
top of white counterpart, his grizzly
gray head sunk deep into a white,
ssarched pillow-sham, with these words
embroidered in the center:
''Sleep sweet, beloved"
He was not only asleep, but snoring,
with look of sweet content on his
wide-open mouth.
'sL-o-t Ski n-n-e-rin
He got up in a manner chat would
have done credit to gymnast, and
stood staring at the fearful hollow in
the bed and the wrinkled dent in the
Dillow-sham.
81 declare forgot he said, looking
very foolish. "A1ice, haven't place
where 1 can lay my head?'
''Don't talk nonsense" said his wife,
sharply. ssThe idea of r sober man 60 :
ING to bed with his boots on.,'
tsWould you rather I'd GET
''I'd rather you'd get some common
sense,.'' she said. eff you must sleep
IN the daytime, why, there's an old
lounge down in the kitchen; no one
viii disturb you there. Or 1 suppose"
-ungraciously--s' can take off the
guilt, and the shams, and let you have
your nap here, though it's wicked,
that's what it is, to sleep Sunday. It's
bad example to set to the children,
lot, and you know it."
t'But am SO sleepy answered her
husband; s'my head is as heavy as lead,
and cannot keep my eyes open"
ssLaziness! sheer laziness!" said his |
wife sharply.
MIR. Skinner went down stairs and |
disappeared. The last words his wife
heard him say were that there was rest |
for the weary, but she was picking up |
she embroidery on the misused sham |
with a pin, and did not heed him. |
When she went down stairs he was not |
N sight and she busted herself with |
getting dinner, which on Sunday took
ahe place of supper, and thought no
more about him.
She was distinguished woman;
distinguished in the town where she |
lived, rs being the cleanest housekeeper
in it. No girl could be found neat
enough to live with her; all the mot
toes in her house were to the effect that
cleanliness is akin to goodness. She
busted every article of furniture in the
house several times every day; she
scrubbed so often that the children had
chronic diphtheria; she scrubbed so
clean that at last she scrubbed through
her kitchen floor into the cellar, and
was nearly lost to the community. 1t
was perpetual warfare between her
and dirt. The front parlor was never
opened to the family, and although Mr..
Skinner had furnished it he had never
sat down in it moment since. Its air
was that of tomb. After it had been
opened to company for an afternoon,
she children went round with fannels
about their threats and drank ginger
tea. II was the handsomest parlor in
the community, too, and had the family
pictures and their marriage certificate
framed and hung up there.
When dinner was ready-and it was
o good dinner, too, for Mrs. Skinner
was notable cook-she asked the
children where their father was.
They did not know.
This seemed strange: she questioned
them closely, but they had not seen
which way he went when he passed
through the room.