The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1891-10-06
MR.. AND MRS. BoWsER.
1t Makes Quite a Difference Which One
Of the Two Is Sick.

" M ALL IL AOAAAS II
finds his wife lying down with her
head tied up, he is real sorry for her,
of course-just as sorry as any hus-
band could be. And, like any other
husband, he stands and surveys her for
a moment and then bluntly says:
q expected it! Finally got fat
down, eh!"
Its nothing" she family replies.
ooh? it isn't! Nothing for a wife
to flop down and upset the whole
house, I suppose! Well, I've been
looking for it the last three months,
and so I'm not much surprised. Mrs.
Bowser, it's a wonder to me that you
or any other woman in New York is
out of her coffin"
Its only-only headache, dear"
Yes, only headache; but what does
headache lead to? If you are not a
dead woman before Saturday night you
may consider yourself lucky. Didn't
[ warn you not to sit in a draft, not to
wear thin shoes, not to eat too much in
warm weather? Little good it does to
talk to a woman"
You can't help ailing OCCASIONALLY"
she replied, as she got up to wet the
bandage around her head.
Mrs. Bowser, look at me-" he said,
as he struck an attitude and held one
hand aloft, "When am l ever ailing?
When do you hear me complain?
Never! And why is it? Because,
Mrs. Bowser-because | don't ran
my stomach with watermelon, butter.
milk, gumdrops, custard pie, sweet
cake, ginger ale and all that! Because
Idon't go around with my feet sopping
wet Because l know enough to come
in when it rains! Because I exercise a
little common sense In taking care of
myselfI'
"YOur dinner is ready"
"And I'm ready for dinner. A
healthy, happy person is always ready
for his meals. You won't try to get up,
l SUPPOSED"
mot now"
well you have only yourself to
blame. You may learn in time, but [
doubt it. I'd like to find one woman
with about two ounces of horse sense
in her head before 1 die, but I don't
expect to do it. Well, it can't be
helped, 1 suppose. The lord made you
that way, and it's no use to argue"
Mr.. Bowser eats his dinner, smokes
his cigar and sings and whistles as if
the slightest noise didn't go through
her aching head like a bullet. 1t never
occurs to him to fan her, wet the band
age or ask if she can't sip a cup of tea.
1t does occur to him, however, to say
about bedtime:
I'm sorry, of course, but then you
must have more sense. I'll go up to
bed and you can come when you get
ready. If you r going to kick
around much, you'd better sleep in the
spare rOom,"
Now and then the tables are turned.
Mr.. Bowser comes home to lunch, drag
ging his legs after him and looking
pale and scared.
whats the matter?" asked Mrs.
Bowser, as o as he steps into the
house.
LOOT a sore throat and I feel feverish.
II think I'm going to be sick"
She doesn't call out that it's just as
she expected and declare that no hus-
band in New York has sense enough to
look out for his health. She knows he
was out in a draft in his shirt sleeves,
but she doesn't even mention it. On
the contrary, she remarks:
TRY and eat a little something and
then lie down. You'd better gargle
your throat and then tie it up"
do you-you think it's anything
serious?" he whispers, as he grows
paler,
81 hope not, but it's best to be on
the safe side. You are subject to
quinsy, you know, and spinal men
nights begins just this way"
L O6lI0N0 LII gum W uI6, SdSpS
Mr.. Bowser, and he grows so weak
that she has to take off his coat and
vest and get him on the lounge. Every
thing about the house is ordered to go
on tiptoe, and even the cat is put out
and the clock stopped. After his
throat has been tied up, his shoes
taken off and a quilt thrown I'VE him
Mr.. Bowser plaintively inquiries:
Don't you think you'd better send
for a doctor9"
mot just yet, dear. don't think
rs, -o,- oo,;o,o