The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1890-12-10
A Lesson For Husbands.
BY AMY RANDOLPH.

BY AMY RANDOLPH.
The little silver column in the ther-
moueter was gradually mounting toward
the nineties; the leaves hung motionless
in the furnace. like air, and the scent of
the perEumed swaths of newly cut hay
pervaded everything, as Squire Sadley
stood under the umbrella shaped apple
tree and wiped his reeking brow with a
yard.square pocket-handkerchief of yel-
low silk.
'Phcw!" cried the Squire, "this is
getting too much. I think I shall 60
home an hour earlier than usual"
- $50 d I, if wasn't workin' for days
wages" said Israel Newcomb, who was
vigorously turning the fragrant pillows
of green with fork which cleaned like
serried lightning in the sunshine. The
Squire glared angrily at Israel; it was his
pride that he worked as hard as any of
his hired men, rich land owner though
he was.
II s'pose I can do as please!" said
he.
'sartin!" observed Israel. II only
wish l couldw
The Squire went home, selecting the
shady path which lay part through the
woods, and crossing the noisy little
stream on make-shift bridge formed by
fallen cedar tree. Far down in the
green cross-lights and glinting reflections
of the glen, he could sec Wild Dallas,
who had abandoned all pretenses of fish
ing, and lay on the moss at Mary Sadley'
feet, reading aloud to her, out of some
pocket volume of poetry. The Squire
frowned.
"Spooning-as usual" growled he,
under his breath, and pushed steadily
on.
The old homestead, painted white,
with refreshing contrast Of green blinds,
lay basking in the vivid sunshine. The
Squire looked at it with o complacent
sense of proprietorship, as he went
around to the back-d door, where great
honeysuckle vine was all in curls of buff
and white blossoms. The roolay kitchen,
with its shining copper boiler and white
board floor, was silent and empty. He
looked around.
"Hallo!" he shouted. "Is every one
dead?"
Little Kitty came running out of the
front-room.
"Hush, father" said she, holding up
small forefnger. "Mother is asleep" -"
"Asleep!" roared the Squire. IA
pretty time of day to be asleep, and the
whole house wide open, ready for any
tramp that may come along, and your
grandmother's silver spoons in plain view
Oh the dresser shelf. Aslecpw
"I'm sorry, Titus" said an apologetic
voice, as pale, shadowy little woman
issued from the hall beyond, where she
had been lying on Procrustean lounge,
fashioned of unpainted pine boards, and
draped with lumpy mattress. IL
hadn't any idea Of falling asleep when
lay down; but my head achcd little
it's the heat, 1 suppose-and I felt dizzy.
I'm very sorry, but surely it isn't twelve
o'clock yet"
"It don't lack many minutes Of it,"
said the Squire, gloomily, looking at the
big wooden clock, whose fat, black Roman
numerals glared back at him from behind
green nebule of asparagus branches.
"The heat, eh2 Well, Is'pose other folks
feel it, too. My head aches, but I don't
take to my bed. And when a man comes
home tired and beat out from the hay
field, he materially expects to find things
comfortable. don't know what wo-
man has her board and her keep for, Il
it amt to see that meals is regular and
things decent"
"I'm sorry, Titus, "nervously reiterated
the little woman, huttering to and fro
like q lamc-winged pigeon, "but I'll
make all the haste I can. Dinner will
soon be ready. Here Kitty" Ito the
child, wash these potatoes in the sink
les quick as you can, and trim the beets,
While run out for some kindlings tc
hurry up the fire."
A minute afterward, he could hear the
quick strokes Of the hatchet, and he be.
thought himself that, in the hurry Incl
dent to haying-time, the pile CT kin.
dlings had been allowed to get low.
SIT does seem," he said ,petulantly, stas
if everything hindered mans dinner.
"Then, father" said Kitty, glancing
shrewdly over the top of the tin potato,
pan, ''why don't you 90 out and split tho
kinGlings, and let mothrr tend to tn:
things indoors"
"Hush, Kitty, "said Mrs. sadley, quick
", as she touched match to the mas:
OF crumpled papers under the CRATE.
Where's the last paper?" snarled ths
Squire, ignoring Kitty's query.
"Oh, Titus" cried his wife, "Pvt
Just set fire to it! I supposed, o
course, you'd read tits week old to
day, you know"
"Of oeltse," said Squire sadlcy, 81
might have known without asking! It,
waste and fling away and burn up in thi
house. There amt nothing safe where
an extravagant wonan's concerned!'