The Press., 1888-04-19

a lady, Molly. and have some one to talk tor I'd answer, q would, but the sarcasm wa1 never understood by his masculine stupidity. Baby had not been well for two weeks, and finally Glenn promised to take me to town to see the, doctor. We got up bright and early, the horses were harnessed, baby dressed and just putting on my bonnet hat, when Glen came in and said rather awkwardly:
 Mrs. France has sent for me-"
 ''Well?" answered coolly
 ssIt's this way. dear" Glenn went on hur- riedly. 'tYou see she wants my advice about bunch of cattle. They are here be- fore she expected them. I promised her to come, and am anxious to be on good terms with her.n
 s'So, see."
 He looked at me steadily. "I don't know, or will not know, what you mean," he said slowly; 'tbut shall go as have agreed. It certainly will do the baby no good to go on fifty mile ride because you think he is sick"
 stopped down and took off the baby's bon net. If he dies I. shall blame you," said, F and before he could stop me ran out with k the baby in my arms. He waited moment, then saddled the horses, for our man had all ready unharnessed them, and rode away.
 Late in the afternoon the baby began to scream as he never had before, and I called Olsen, our man, a good natured Swede, to help me- He held the child while I tried all the remedies knew; then, when it was qui- eter, he rode off for Mrs. Bohm. It seemed hours before he brought her back, but the baby had been still all the time and was less worried. She hurried to my side, knelt down and looked in the little face 'Its too late," she said sadly, "the dear baby's dy- ing" remember I gave cry that did not sound like my voice at all, and then tainted When came back to life Clem was beside me, so white and miserable might have pitied him, but I would not I turned my face away.
 He wanted me to go home that winter, but I would not. was ashamed to go back, shabby and faded. I had never written a word but that we were prosperous and happy, and Iknew besides the season had been bad, the crops poor and felt Clem had made a mistake in taking this ranch, which was only fit for cattle. He was very quiet and thought full all that winter, sorrowing, thought, over his failures and wasted work. was glad Olsen was with us, and yet think when 8 wife is glad of third person it is very sad and deplorable.
 Another summer came, and with the soft June days Mrs. France and number of city guests. There were gay parties and picnics, where we were invited, but l never went. Glenn accepted some of the invitations, though, and was angry that l would not go with him. I had nothing to wear, and he could not understand the difference between his picturesque frontiersman's costume, that suited his bronzed face and broad shoulders, and my old faded gowns on an exceedingly plain little person. Then had no saddle or habit. used to long then for the old home days, the merry young folks, the pretty dresses and music. Imagine, had not seen piano since was married, and I used to play well. Once in while thought of these things, but said nothing. Had love and caresses been given me I would never have thought this at all
 The day before the Fourth of July Mrs. France rode over and asked us to come to 8 picnic she was going to give to celebrate on the morrow. Clem said he would like to go and would try to persuade me. I noticed that he walked long ways beside her horse, and that they were in deep conversation, for she stopped long time looking toward the house. In the morning Glenn had the horses harnessed to the wagon and was dressed in his best. When he came in to breakfast I remember he was nervous and kept looking at me furtively.
 ''Do dress up and go, Molly" he said when handed him his coffee, ''be your old, sweet self. Why do you try to be so bitter and un- happyg'
 choked then. was near throwing my self into his arms and crying, 'Oh, love me as you used to, pet me and kiss me. I am starving for love, my heart is breaking." But, suddenly, I remembered the day before how interested they were.
 ''You are so used to going without me might spoil your pleasure" said coldly.
 He turned and lifted my chin, looking into my eyes. Ut can't be possible that you are so silly as to be jealous of Mrs. France,n he said slowly.
 ''There is no jealousy where there is no love-" cried hotly.
 "Poor little slave" he said sadly. 1T took you from the happiest home in the world to bring you to this" I was almost at his side then, telling him all my troubles, begging him to begin all over again and we might be happy, when he went on: "And yet they say wives are patient and enduring, satisfied to accept rainy as well as pleasant days. No girl raised as you were ought to marry poor man. We have made terrible mistake"
 Haven't I done your work we'll, as well as any farmers daughter used to this hfeg I cried in anger. "Can you not even be fair and just?'
 "You have done my work too we'll, !" he an- swered; 'it was a useless sacrifice" He caught his sombrero from the nail "Are you going with meg'
 "A dowdy in a faded gown and queer hat2 Mo- keep where belong. You might be ashamed of me as you were that day Mrs. France saw me washing"
 "Just put that silly idea out of your head, ," he said sternly, q never could be the mean fellow you think me, and yet you may be right in disliking me. I fancy never was