Fairhaven herald. [volume] (Fairhaven, Wash.) 1890-????, 1892-07-01
ON THEJUGSON FARM.
A FOURTH OF JULY STORY BY HELEN
FORREST GRAVES.

FORREST GRAVES.
'The Fourth of July?" said Mrs. Dop-
pleton. What is the Fourth of July to
me%
"a national holiday, my DEAR" said
her husband, who had been invited to
deliver the Grafton before the Pompville
Patriotic association, IAN anniversary
that should be dear to every man, wom-
an and child in this republic"
HOh, bother the republicr flashed out
Mrs. Doppleton.
"MariaI" said Mr.. Doppleton. This
from your
'I'm sick and tired of the whole
thing, said Mrs. Doppleton-and really,
when one came to think how often she
had listened to the howery perorations
OF the address (Mr. Doppleton was lit
tie uncertain as to his memory and
liked TO practice on any audience that
etaaced to be nearest), her remark was
II unnatural-"and I'm not going to
< ct pville to see you make fool of
= ;self. So there!'
Sfoompville, Maria" said Mr.. Dopple-
eSI, lis to be our future home"
Your, perhaps" said Mrs. Dopple-
~, mot ours"
MariaI'
"Josephp
Perhaps" said Mr.. Doppleton, 'you
will be good enough to explain your
selfr
81 don't see the use Of it," said Mrs.
Doppleton, ''when I've already explained
myself forty times. But if you really
insist upon IT.
81 do, Maria"
"Why, then, I'll repeat it for the
forty-first time" said Mrs. Doppleton,
with every symptom Of coming hyster-
les 1--WE never known happy hour
Hnce your distant cousin Jugson died
and left us that old rattletrap of a
house.
81 beg your pardon, Maria, that an
cestral residence" corrected Mr.. Dop-
pleton.
81 should like to live in the country
well enough" went ON Mrs. Doppleton,
''that is, if you can call a village like
Pompville the country"
at is one of the sweetest spots in the
world" said Mr.. Doppleton.
"But as for moving into low ceiled,
badly drained house like that, with the
middle of it taken up with stack of
chimneys, not closet on the premises
except a few three cornered affairs
whose shelves aren't big enough to hold
a cat; the parlor by 10, and twenty
eight panes Of glass in every individual
window won't do it, that's all. And
unless you will consent to build new
Colonial cottage or a sweet little Queen
Anne cottage on the grounds
"Never!" cried Mr.. Doppleton. "Do
you take me for a Goth or Vandal?
Why, my dear, that house is 10 years
oldf'
II should judge by its looks" tartly
responded Mrs. Doppleton, that it was
1,010 years oldr'
MARIA" said the orator of the day,
"have you no regard for my feelingsT
you don't appear to have any regard
for minel" sobbed Mrs. Doppleton.
81 intend to move into that house on
the first of next September" said Mr..
Doppleton, when the lease of the fat
that we are at present occupying ex-
pires."
'1don'tp said Mrs. Doppleton crisply.
May ask, then, what you do intend
to dor"
ITO go home to my mother"
''Marial"
Joseph
do you forget that you vowed to keep
you unto me only until death did us
partY'
'rDo you forget that you said you would
love and cherish meY'
Mr.. Dcppleton was as stubborn as a
mule; Mrs. Doppleton was as obstinate
as only woman could be.
And the upshot of this pretty little
difference of opinion was that freezing
GOODNESS established itself like a wall of
ice between husband and wife, and a
legal separation seemed to be the one
thing impending
Mr. Doppleton selected a hard fea-
tured single cousin, Jemima Parker by
name, to serve as audience to his great
oratorical effort.
Mrs. Doppleton began to pack up her
wedding presents, her bric-a-brac and
her personal belongings.
Both Of them were very wretched, and
neither of them would concede an inch.
Don't you think, dear, you might