Barbour County index. [volume] (Medicine Lodge, Kan.) 1880-current, 1892-06-22
AND, with another kiss for us both,


cleaning my kitchen and baking tarts.
We could not afford to keep servant,
Johns wages being small, and / had
all the housewori- on my hands; but I
did not mind it at all ! loved my hus-
band, and he loved me, and q happier
couple did not live.
In the midst of my busy work. in
comes Miss Dorcas Dent, an old friend
ofothers- An old maid, too, was
Miss Dorcas. a great ~ -. ua'l'-
mony, and at mankind in general.
80 you're hard at 1t, Jennie" she
said, sitting down, and throwing back
her bonnet-strings. land drudging
yourself to death, and that child on
some lass as you used to be. and look
! at you nowl A poor, tagged slatternl
What fool ye were to marry, Jennie!
Weren't ye, now?"
mo, indeed. Miss Dorcas; I'd do the
same thing over again tomorrow"
''Pahl Such simpletons as you lasses
are. Well you'll open your eyes to the
truth soon enough. Working your
hands to the bone. and spelling your
good looks, as If any man that ever had
breath was worth it. 1 say, why don't
John supply a hired girl?"
"He can't afford it, Miss Dorcas"
Cant he? Maybe not. Has to
squander too much on his own pleas
ures, does hep"
mo, indeed" / answered, indig-
nantly; John never squanders a
penny"
Miss Dorcas shook her ample sides
with sarcastic laughter.
Never squanders a penny!' she re-
peated; land never stays out at night,
either, or goes gallivanting round the
town with other women, and you be
at home darning his stockings? Don't
tell me about them, Jennie-these
good husbands-I know them.
| haven't two eyes for nothing. Didn't
I see John only night fore last walk
ing down town, and another woman
beside him?"
'John?" / gasped-'my John2 Oh.
you must be mistaken"
81 never mistake. Twas your John"
"And who was the woman?"
Cant tell Didn't see her face"
When John came home to supper I
| determined to ask him, but a feeling of
shame kept me silent while we were at
table, and the minute he was done he
arose and took down his hat
why, JOHN asked, ''are you 60
ing out again? And it is raining, too"
$50 it Is; but I must go tonight,
| Jennie"
What for, John?"
His eyes fell, and he turned from me
| In evident confusion.
"Well-you see-don't ask me, Jen-
ME. I've promised to go, that's all; but
I sha'n't have to go again, maybe"
My foolish, jealous heart rose in my
throat, and stood hurt and silent.
John kissed me and kissed baby in
her crib Then he took off his coat
and threw it on chair.
IF you don't feel too tired, little
wife, you might fasten in that sleeve
| lining. I'll wear my thick coat to-
night
He was gone, and after clearing
! away our small table l sat down to
think, and I soon made myself miser-
able enough
At last thought of Johns coat and
| best coat, which he had only taken for
common wear few days before.
Brushing off the dust, I heard the
rustic of paper in the breast pocket
Is there a wife loyal enough, I'M
| feminine enough, to refrain from pry-
| ing into the secrets of her husbands
| pockets when she has chance?
drew the rustling paper forth. It
| was a note-a dainty, three-cornered
| affair, with rosebud on the broken
seal looked at the directions: John
Oanton," my own husbands name.
| written in fine feminine characters
sharp pang pierced my heart, a
mist dimmed my eyes What woman
was this who dared to write to my hus-
bandP l must know. had a right to
know. tore open the tiny sheet.
"MY DEAREST JOHN: Do not fail to come to-
| night am alone, and shall look for you"
] could not read another word. A
blindness like that of death filmed my
eyes, a faint horrible sickness crept
over me. Miss Dorcas had told me the
| truth John was untrue to me. And
had loved him sol
/ crushed the fatal note into nv
pocket and caught up my coat and hat
''Come, baby" | sobbed, driven out
of my senses for the minute by my
| terrible pain, 1--WE will go. When he
comes he shall discover that we are
| gone"
took up the little one, and wrapped
her in heavy shawl; then we left our
cheerful Preside, and set forth through
the pelting rain.
why, what in the name of wonder
has brought you out tonight, Jennie?"
| cried my father, when we entered the
sitting-room "And you've brought the
child, tool What's up?"
/ shrank down beside my mother,
and began to sob out my misery. my
head upon her breast.
John untrue?" repeated father. SIS
that what you're driving at? Oh, bosh.
Jennie; you're jealous, that's all
don't believe a word of it. A truer.
better man than John don't breathe"
/ drew forth the crumpled note, and
held it toward him.
| "He's out every night" | sobbed;
''and-and found that in his pocket"
| Father pulled his spectacles over his
nose, and opened the note. A minute.
perhaps, he peered at it curiously, and
then he exploded with laughter.
''Oh. Jennie, Jennie, what selli'
he cried. What precious little fool
you are! Take this note, and look at
it again. Did you never see it before?"
/ took the note and looked at it,
wondering what he could mean The
name at the bottom of the tinted sheet
caught my eye for the first time.
| l grew hot with shame from head to
foot. The letter was my own. written
to John by my own hand in the days of
our courtship. l fell upon mothers
bosom, and burst into tears
Come, Jennie, take up the child.
and I'll go home with you," said my
father. Now, don't you feel cheap"
did not; l only felt supremely
happy.
| fIod o,-l