The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1892-02-16

not care very much how live If can
make the public believe that loH In the
lap of luxury TIL it causes adverse crit
| cism
| could hear the conversation in the
next room. In fact, could not avoid
it. cannot wear cotton in my ears all
the time, as high as cotton Is now, and
SO | was obliged to hear the pathetic
words th;tt came to me over the transom
and through the walls.
There was little, dry, hard cough and
sigh of pain after it; then a woman's
broken voice:
Her cough is tighter tonight, Char
lie. It Is dryer and her temperature is
greater, dear. Oh, what shall we do?
What shall we do?-poor darling"
Somehow thought of my own home
and wondered if the little folks there
were well tonight, so many cold, weary
miles away in the old north state.
Then the mans voice said In deep.
rich tones:
81 think it is the crisis with her, dear"
Then the little cough once more and
patient little moan that died away in a
sigh. "If she can get through the night
we may hope for an improvement tomor-
row, Clara. See. she is going TO sleep
now"
Then there was long hush, but after
ward came the cough-that cough that
hurts a parents heart worse than it could
the child, it seems. Then a little whim-
per OF pain and then the voice of the al
most sobbing woman:
'What would we do without her,
Charlie? What would we do without
her? She is all we have. Icould not go
homo again without her and leave her
here. What would we do, Charlie?
What would we dor
| began to feel uncomfortable. Icould
not bear to hear this sort of talk. | can
not stand such things. | smoked large
brunette pipeful of the ablest tobacco
could get hold of and walked the floor
1t was terrible. | could not read.
could not write. When the dry, quick
cough, and the sigh, and the womans
sob came got so | started and turned
pale, and if 1t had not been too late at
night would have left the room alto
gether.
lyon must give her the medicine now.
1t Is II o'clock, and she had it before at
10. Be brave, dear heart. Have cour-
age. Others have passed through even
deeper sorrow. Clara" came the deep,
earnest, comforting voice of the hus-
band. Life and death are not in our
hands, We can only do our best and be
ready for the worst"
/ could not endure this. l am of too
sympathetic nature. | rang the bell
intending to order my room changed,
but got ashamed of myself before the
boy came and told him to have me
called at 1870 in the morning, and he
went away with bright new shilling
which had once owned.
''She is awake now, Charlie, and she
knows me. See! Yes, indeed she does.
She recognizes our voices, Charlie. But
she is weaker; Oh, so much weakerl She
can hardly turn over or lift her head
any more. On, my poor, poor darlingl
What can do for you? What can dor
Then | could hear her mingled sobs
and kisses. The husband paced the floor.
could not bear this any more.
arose and dressed. 1t was no sorrow |
that could relieve. might as we'll go |
away from it. | folded and put away
the rich nightrobe in my bag and |
dressed myself automatically. Then | !
went down stairs With my luggage, the
little hollow cough still ringing in my |
ears | said at the office that | would !
pay my bill and go. could not bear
the grief even of those whose faces | |
had never seen. 1t might be foolish, but
| could not help it.
'Do not go, Mr.. Nye," the night clerk
said. I'VE will give you 80, on the par
lor floor. 1t is much better room, with
steam heat in it. Here, Front! Show
MIR. Nye to 80 and tell SO that they will
have to leave in the morning. You are
the third man they have driven out with
their wild grief and their croupy dogw
If we only knew more sometimes we .
would grieve less.