The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1889-03-28

AAolA os aAA o"outJ- Dix years OtQ, ana
YOU we'll, If you were a man you could
vote. Now don'tlet's be children any longer
We are at odds and acting foolish only be-
cause am not candid with you. Don't cry
another tear, but come and sit by me-"
She went gladly to the chair he indicated,
docile always when he chose to be serious
"You see, Maria, a fellow likes to be
thought we'll Of. He don't want to announce
to the world, nor to his wife, since both con-
cede him to be young, strong. gifted, edu-
Gated, prosperous, that he failed miserably
in his boosted profession, and that he now
gets only SIS per week. It sounds anoma-
lous. 1t reflects on his capacity. 1t lowers
his standard. It's far pleasanter to be
thought pocketing big fees, and to be looked
upon as the possible guiding spirit in some
stupendous public scheme, isn't it!''
II suppose So"
IA fellow in college has plenty of time to
initiate himself. It's only after experience
has punctured the wind bag that it is pos
sible to know its true size or carrying
capacity. Since graduated the world has
heard no voice from me except that of
escaping gas. You and the friends in
Clover-camp thought it the music of the
spheres. In Chicago they call me a blow
hard' It's vulgar, but it's pretty near the
truth, I guess"
20. JOhn.n
"Why, Maria, thought 1 was a great
man: didn't deceive you any more than 1
did myself. thought the whole world was
waiting for me- and that could pick up
riches with one fexile condescension of my
spine. had only to stoop-so, gaily, and I
had a pocket full. But the world wasn't
waiting-I had to scramble hard for my SIS
per week place-precarious at that"
tail Tohr
II was my own dupe, and in my egregious
vanity I dragged along with me you, my
little winsome country sweetheart. You
believed I was great man. man of
affairs, didn't you, Maria?'
Il believe yet you will be, John. am
sure you will"
II ought to be to justify your faith, but I
never shall. am just an ordinary, COM
mon-place fellow, we'll and hearty, and
deucedly-yes, deucedly poor"
But John-don't you practice-law."
"Maria, I never had client do odd
jobs whenever I can, to exc out my scant.
| wages. I'm in debt. and just manage to
keep soul and body together.''
1t took many minutes for Maria to adjust
| herself to this confession.
"Why didn't you tell me-" was all that
| she could say.
| home-ever so little, it would be more like
| living''
20, John, that's what say, ever so little,
out on the prairie-any where, except in
this coopy, dngy little room and with these
dreadfully common people. I could econo-
mize there-I know could. You can get
such beautiful bargains in tin things, and
china is so cheap"
20, but there's no chancel l couldn't
rent dry-goods box, much less buy one.
And if I could we'd have to live in the cram
MES with the mice for couldn't furnish it,"
But papa could, and he would, too. You
know he said on our wedding day. when we
were ready to live in good, sensible, old
fashioned way he would help US. I'll write
him this very day."
And she did; and the plain old country
squire came to the city, roamed through
the suburbs, bought little Queen-Anne
dove-cote, and settled his bird of a daughter
and his promising but impecunious son-in-
law in it, feeling greatly relieved to know
they had home
The furnishing made gala days for Maria,
and when they were finally established John
said:
You can keep accounts you know, Maria,
I'll add the figues for you. and what we save
now will be for the benefit Of" this he
whispered-"JohnS Skipping Jr.'
| CLARA DOTY BATES.