The Penn's Grove record., 1888-06-09
SOMETHING BEHIND 1T.

SOMETHING BEHIND 1T.
"Oh, yes, motherl you're always
"There'5 something behind it"
Pm glad Pm not so suspicious OF
and everything. 1 believe
there is such a thing as dlsinterested
though it is not as common
as it used to be. l give everybody
credit for meaning well till / find out
they don't; I'd hate to think people
were 80 selfish as you do; you can't
take any comfort in your friends so
long as you think there's something
everything that's said and
and Mr.. Thomas Martin lels.
urely changed the position Of his feet
the foot-rest before the fire, where,
encased in heavy, gray WOODEN socks,
he was 'toastlng 'em," and settled
himself a little deeper in the old rocker
that had held his massive form for
twenty years. and babe fair to do so for
another twenty. judging fromlthel iron
bolts which had been used to brace up
its departing strength.
Mrs. Martin, a pleasant-faced little
woman, considerably younger than her
husband, sat by the window darning
socks similar to those mentioned and
made no reply to his remarks. But he
needed no response by way Of encour-
agement.
"Nobody does you a favor, but that
you wonder what's behind 1t; no one
does anything a little out Of the ordin-
airy run without you say there's some
thing behind it; l don't tell you anyone
came to see me without you ask, What
did he wantp' just as though anyone
wouldn't come TO see me unless he had
az to grind. You've said it so much.
you're getting me all riled up against
and everything, and 1 don't
want to lose faith in humanity as you
seem to have done"
swell, then, I'll say no more about
1t, but l don't like to see you 80 often
deceived as to the real motives of peo-
pie, who pretend to be actuated by
friendship only. l have not lost faith
in humanity, for the poor souls cannot
help being selfish. and the half Of them
don't know themselves that tits selfish
ness that prompts their acts. You say
/ always ask, "What did he WANT"
Well, in nine cases out of ten, didn't
they want some favor Of you. some
help, or some. advicep"
Mr.. Martin made no answer.
II am going into the kitchen now to
show Kate about the baking; If you
want me you must call; If you don't
care to read, take a nap before dinner
time"
Left to himself lie leaned his head
back and closed his eyes for a nap. but
his thoughts were too busy with his
wife's words. He picked up a paper
but could not get interested in it and
laid 1t down again with the rain wish
that he might be down at the office, or
moving about the factory. A severely
sprained ankle kept him prisoner at
home.
To his great relief he heard steps
upon the walk and, turning his head,
he saw through the window the M
able Deacon Whiting approach the
door and heard his slow, important
knock. The deacon was an old ac-
qu~aintance, who had moved from the
neighborhood a few years before to a
farm some three miles out on the prai-
RE, since when Mr.. Martin had seldom
seen him.
A feeling of gratifed pride In his
visit showed in manner and voice as
he called out: 'Come in" and rose,
with the aid of a clumsy, home made
crutch, to wheel up a chair for the
Deacon.
Don't git up, don't git up, l kin
help myself" and the Deacon, shaking
hands very cordially, seated himself
near the fire.
"Tolerable cool weather agin now;
middlin' hard frost last night; leetle
more snow on top this freeze, an We'll
have good sleighin' an that'll make
things lively; folks kin git round to
town and meetin'. We had a right
smart number out to meetin' last Sun
day an l SEE then. after meetin', I wuz
cummin' to see you, an then l heerd
you wuz laid up an sez l. all the bet
ter; I'll ketch him to hum. sure"
During these sentences drawled out
deliberately, Mr.. Martin had been
thinking rapidly. So the Deacon had
decided Sunday to Call on him, before
he heard of his accident; evidently
then he had not come Tor the sole pur-
pose of following the injunction. ''visit
the sick" and the horrible suspicion
fitted across his mind that the Deacon
had San x to grind" Hecould take
no interest In the rambling talk that
followed, for he expected every mo-
ment that the sax" would be brought
forward. But no; a half hour passed
and the Deacon rose to go. Mr.. Mar
tins spirits rose; here was direct refu-
tation Of Mothers" theory; here was
a case of a friendly call, for friendships
sake, not for se~lf-interest. The Dea-
con stood with his hand on the door
knob.
"Ah! I kim near furgitting my ar
He came back and drew his
chair a little nearer his friend.
You see, we're a-tryin' to build a
meetin' house out in our nayburhood,
an we can't fix on the spot fur 1t.
Thar's a sandy null In Jake Stones
acre piece. that he SEE he'll give
'em. Now faint as good a spot as the
cross-road corner in my field, but l
can't see my way to give EN- the land,
and the trustees SEE seein' mines the
han'sumest spot, they'll give me a
hun'red dollars for it. if I'll raise fifty
it amongs my friends. An / tbo't
bein's we'd alters been good friends,
you'd give me a lift"
The revulsion of feeling was so sud
den and so complete that he could only
say. "Yes, yes, I'll think of it,"
"Sartainly, sartainly. you may want
to think 1t over" but his face showed
q disappointment his words belied.
''They won't settle the matter for
time UT. Wa'al. good-day, take
mood kaar of uoi1raalf