Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1892-07-08
A REAL AWAKENING.

She leaned her round face on hel
hands, looking afar off. 1t was little
moro than the face Of child, albeit she
was twenty and had been wife for two
years.
A sound of walking drew her blue eyes
in another direction. A man was com
ing up the walk. ID was her husband.
Did she run 10 meet him with words OF
welcome and n caress from her dimpled
arms? Oh, no; he had taught her better
than that, she bitterly thought, quickly
uncurling her dainty feet and speeding
away 20 her kitchen. How gracefully
she ran awayl The motion was like q
startled fawn's But she was peering
soberly into the stove oven when the
kitchen doorway was darkened by the
entrance of John Hardy, her husband.
as supper readyf" he asked.
No word of greeting further; no word
Of praise for the pretty, flushed face
nothing but careless glances at the pan
Of crisp. brown mullins she was carrying
10 side table.
w
"ln few moments, John"
lie turned ON his heel, going out to
bathe his hot face and hands. Lucille
how well the name suited the dainty,
delicate face-hastily arranged her tea
table ai.l rang the bell. John came in,
sat down and silently proceeded 10 eat,
helping himself, not noticing the face
opposite.
Another cup Of coffee"
She gave it to him, saying anxiously,
docs everything suit youY'
"Ycs. Oh, yes" he answered care
lefsly. still no word Of praise. Her
face became downcast. What a fool
she was 60 expect praise for anything
she dill he wearily told herself as she
set thc dining room in order. Her hus-
band was 1T the door again. Lucille.
have '.i ready when | come back.
I'm going to the depot for our new
boardcr"
New hoarderl Oh, John, tonight"
Yes" and his shadow disappeared
from the doorway
Aul this WAS her first intelligence Of
A4t lAIA llliA DpHll ldil ldhtH
for the summer? Oh, why had he not
told her sooner? But this was Johns
way in all things-not to make conf
daut of hcr-and with leaden feet she
went MP 10 the "spare room" to array
the bed in sheets, etc. Otherwise it was
always In order. After fresh water had
been Thought and fresh towels laid out,
she gave last weary glance around,
then descended to the kitchen again. OF
course the stranger would want supper.
n am so tired of it all, she sighed.
And yet why was she weary and tiredi
She was the healthy Young wife Of q
prosperous young farmer. Either Lu-
ellie Evans should not have married q
farmer or else she should have been ed
ucated with the idea Of being a farmers
wife. She was a village girl, having had
all the exaggerated ideas of such girls Of
the sweets of farm life. John Hardy
had thought her extremely pretty, and
had thought she would become an excel
lent manager and capital housekeeper
under his tuition. II he was satisfied,
she had become the two latter in a spirit
less, plodding way, unlike what the
blithesome Lucille had been two years
ago.
Before she had rekindled the fire the
spring wagon was heard to stop. As she
hastily blew the pine into blaze her
husbands voice sounded:
Lucille, Mr.. Bellairs must have sup
per-"
Indeed, no." And Lucille got slowly
up from her knees and turned about.
Never had she heard such n singularly
sweet voice. Mr.. Bellairs had taken in
the situation at u glance. The wife was
the servant here He would rather go
TO bed hungry than add TO her toll.
"MY wife" .IOhn had the grace to say.