Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1889-11-21
UNCLE AARON
A WIFE REDEEMED.
a Pathetic Story Of a Woman's
Folly and Mans Heroism.
BY MRS. ISOBEL H. FLOYD.
copyright, 1891
CHAPTER III,


Eight years later, one day at the end of
summer, Jacob, then a strong young fellow
Of eighteen, announced his intention of go
ing to New York.
'What for can't We bide as MatthewP'
asked his mother, querulously. ''New
York; What will yer do there? Why can't
yer let well enough alone? You're better
of now than yer father was when we mar
ried. Yer have a hundred dollars in the
bank and schoolin'-why can't yer bide!"
The young fellow laughed awkwardly,
and said, looking at his father, although he
talked to his mother: "I-have an idea
could do better for myself in big city.
think could-I feel could"
''Feelr' calculated his mother, with a con-
temptuous shrug.
''Let be, mother" interrupted Uncle
Aaron, sternly; ''don't make game o. the
lad. He's old enough to have his bent, and
lam going to give it to him"
That was all that was needed. The boy
wanted but his fathers sympathy and the
woman but firm hand to quell her rebel
lion
"Well-if yer say it" she said.
"Yes, say it," said Uncle Aaron, rising
in his agitation and pacing the room; 81 say
1t. The lads been good lad, and has a
right TO have his fling. What if he does
come back in a couple of years, glad to go a.
farming? What harms been done, sayl
What harm?p
''Oh, thank you, father" said Jacob,
huskily; Pm obliged to you"
''Will yer be a-going soonl" said Aunt
Kate, presently, accepting the inevitable
with feminine quickness; "'cause yer'l
need some more socks, Pm thinking"
eyes, mother" said Uncle Aaron, smil-
ing, as one humors child; "yes, he'll need
the socks.'
'Fll 20 and see if the yarn be there" said
Aunt Kate, suddenly all wide-awalze and
energetic; ''if he goes soon they're not
made in day." and she jumped upfrom her
seat, climbed the ladder and disappeared in
the loft above.
''Let's go outside" said Uncle Aaron.
They went out and stood side by side under
the big pine trees.
Father" said Jacob at last, ''if you had
rather 1 didn't, 1 won't. 1t wouldn't be
worth while, you know, to worry you" All!
the sweet smile that came over his face.
'Dear lad, 1 would not keep We. Go!
Ye're young and smart, and 1 know
ven do WE'LL know ye'll do we'll
Why, some of these days it'll be an
honor for me to say yer my lad-and, per-
haps, ye'll be ashamed of yer poor old father
and mother"
"What" cried the boy, and such look
of indignant love glowed in his face that
his father added, hastily: "Im but joking,
lad know my boy" and reaching out his
hand he clssped the others close.
"Father, wish you could go with me-"
Eyes, yes," said Uncle Aaron, dreamily.
81 wish had been born twenty years later
and different. Sometimes, do yer know,
lad, see another sort of life from this. l
feel as if-as if-if I'd had but the schoolin'
it would have been different. Do yer un-
derstandr' he said, modestly; 81 sound
queer to ye, mebbe?''
"No," said Jacob, earnestly; ''you don't.
Oh, fatherl fatherl What a puzzle life is,
anyhow" and the young fellow buried his
face in his hands, and with the selfishness
of the young groaned aloud. The greater
soul merely stiled its pain and said:
''When will We go, think yea"
81 don't know; next week, guess" said
Jacob, looking up. "Win that be too soonr'
"No," answered Uncle Aaron, mot too
soon-not too SOON"
''Some way, father, can't bear to think
Of settling down here all my life. 1t just
chokes me-"
'Don't fret, lad; don't fret. understand
yer feelin's, and it makes no differ what
the others say--it makes no differ"
81 guess" said Jacob, at last, after they
had stood silent some moments, ~ guess
I'll chop pile of wood before go, 70 keep
mother agoin'"
"An right" nodded his father.
The boy went about his work, but the
man stood still looking out over the valley.
In dumb way be felt penned in, stif1ed,
himself. he had felt so often during his
later years, something as Of reprcssed force,
imprisoned power. He was like grand
lion Gagged, restlessly pacing to and fro,
stronger than his keepers, and yet unable
to break the bars by which they bound him.
Those slight and unseen keepers of educa-
ton and worldly knowledgel With them
he could have done wonders in the world
he felt it. Without them he was but big
wistful-eyed brute, that eat its food and
eat and slept again.
But the boy-that was his one outlet.
Gently he turned, and, smiling, strode back
towards the house.