The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1895-12-08

L ought to have had more sense, but 1t
is pretty heavy and I'm not so strong as
1 used to be, lately. OF course, he grum-
bled; Bob don't believe in a man helping
about the homework; he says it's effem-
| mate"
Amaryllis paused to give vent to a
sarcastic sniff and examine the dinner,
which was progressing under the quick
| mechanical movements of her hands.
| 1T always did aggravate me-" she
resumed, ito see him lift anything. He
don't take hold of it as IL he meant
to move it. Well, he just kind of dragged
along, shutting his feet and letting his
| end OF the boiler sag and flop the water
| over, till finally, about the middle of the
Moor, told him to brace up and carry
his share, and If you'll believe me he
just politely stopped and set it down
right In the middle Of my new rag car
pet.-covered with SCOT. the bottom of
IL! You can see the spot yet where ii
went. though I've worked ever since
| with salt and meal trying to take it out.
WelL L was tired and cross, / reckon,
/ and when he turned away towards the
door, saying, kind Of smart, that moth
ing was ever done good enough to please
me, just stepped up and slapped him
/ in the FACET
Amaryllis paused in her recital, and,
| forgetful for the moment of the serious
| consequences Of the blow, gave a low,
| gurgling laugh.
/
him, and If ever saw a great, big, long
legged lout need good slap, 1t was him!
But, of course" she added seriously, 81
| didn't know that ornery Will Heddrick
that's been running here after Bob for
| some time was going to step right up
| onto the porch and see me do it. OF
course. 1 oughtnt have done it at all,
| much less before anybody
What did Bob do?" asked Minnie,
who was leaning upon the kitchen table
| In consuming interest
do? oh, he flew all to pieces! He
| said IT. was a shame for a man to be
| obliged to put up with a shrewish-tem-
| pered thing like me, much less to let her
beat him over the head, and he told
| Will Heddrick he wanted him to bear
| witness that he'd seen me strike him;
| and then he told me / should apologize
| or he would never live with me again.
| tell you, Min, when we were married
| / loved Bob just to DEATH did so;
worshiped the ground he walked on, and
| for years he would do things and bring
| trouble on himself and then freeze me
| into apologizing for them. I would take
| spells of getting mad because he neg
| lected me so. and saw me overworked
and worried, without lifting a finger to
| help me, and would vow never to care
| for him again, but then 1 would grow so
lonely and miSerable-a woman is such
| helpless creature was glad many a
| time to creep back into his arms and beg
| him to love me. And then / would take
up the hard end of the load more cheer
| fully for while. But somehow didn't
| care that day. I only said, Very well,
Bob and went to work dipping out of
the boiler and carrying out by bucket
| fulS. He went away and I've never seen
him since. But hadn't thought of the
children, then. Oh! how they have taken
on since he went away! Bob never took
much interest in them, but they loved
| him, only Milly sometimes asked me
| why i did the milking, and tended the
! garden, and carried wood and coal; she
| said even old man BEDFORD, who gets
drunk and drives the old woman out by
spells, does such chores around as that
for her. But 1 told Milly her pa was
a good temperance man and a worker
against the liquor traffic, and she
| oughtn't to compare him to old BEDFORD.
But the children took on so I was just
| about to write and tell him was sorry,
though, tell the truth, 1 amt, when
got the paper with his divorce notice II
it, and now ] will die before he shall
know that / care.
Still, Min, I've done wrong. It's
| woman's place to put up with the bad
| in her partners disposition and to try
to make the best of it. no matter what
| there is TO forgive. and / suppose
should go after him yet if it wasn't fol
one thing. 1 am an old woman, Min,
! the long days Of hard work that I have
He has taken his beauty sleep while
was uD milking and choring around for
| hours. 1t is easier to attend meetings
and such than to sit and sew and put
up with the romping of the children
| evenings. It's easier to write out deeds
and file away claims, and get up and
split the air with eloquence than 1t is to
wash and iron, rake and hoe, and cook
and scrub, and take care of the children
day and night. Well, he's still young
man-young and good-looking-for no
one Will deny that Bob is handsOme-and
| / Suppose"-here the resolute lips of ths
scolding wife cuivered-"I suppose h
thinks there are better women in the
world. But law me-" she broke off sud-
denly, there comes the children. Don't
let on about Bob, Min. 1 want them to
forget him if they can. 1 hear he's
moved to Benton, and it's likely they'll
never see him again. You see, this prop
tvs mine, and the cow and all the
chickens, and the garden. l guess
| can make out to raise the children
The little ones came running I'D the
walk and the visitor slipped quietly
away, pulling her sunbonnet over her
face, lest they should notice how much
their mothers artless story had aroused
| her emotions. The mother went to meet
her children and sat upon the upper step
to gather them into her arms with that
| devOuring tenderness often seen in wom-
en- with warm natures. The children
| glanced around nervouSly, and Milly, a
slim little girl of ten, peered inquiringly
| into her mothers face. and her own fell
painfully. The others. boy and girl of
| eight and six, were more outspoken.
| Hasn't papa come home yet? When
will papa be homer" they clamored.
| Papa isn't ever coming home any
more" said the woman slowly, as If to
impress the fact, once for all, upon their
minds. Papa doesn't love us any more
we must not think about him, but
mammals here and she will take care of
you, and we will have lots of fun"
She sprang up with an affectation of
gayety, and, plunging into a whirl of
nonsense such rs easily diverts children
soon had them laughing and chattering
over their dinner as though no trouble
had come, so early, across the course of
their little lives.
The sympathies of the village were
with Robert Crane. 1t was considered
a generous deed, the leaving of the chill
dren with a woman who had driven him
out into the cold world by her tongue;
nay, not that alone. but actually with
blowsi 1t was a scandal; he a church
member and a steady-going mani The
fact that Amarylls did not appear
against him in court was taken as evil
dence that she had no defense to make
and 1t was even limited that a darker
plea than the one presented might have
been made, but for the generosity of the
man whose life had been blighted by
domestic 'nfelicity.
Before the case came UP the minister