Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1895-05-04
CONVINCED.

from the table and surveyed the faded
little face on the opposite side of the tea
tray.
Faded enough now, though she was
barely o. You would hardly have be-
lieved how fresh and pretty Carry Car
yer had been on her wedding day. Her
husband saw the change, but somehow
he supposed all women faded just SO.
'There is so much to do, Peter, and
the children demand so much of time"
pleaded the meek wife.
eff | were manager in this household.
things would happen very differently"
81 have no doubt of it," said Carry
quietly.
"There is no earthly reason" went on
Mr.. Carver ignoring the sarcastic mean
ing of her tone, ''why the work shouldn't
be done and you dressed and enjoying
yourself, cultivating your mind or some
thing, at II o'clock every morning that
you live. Washing up few dishes,
sweeping a room or two-what does it
all amount to? Why, my dear, don't
you see the folly of asking for a servant
to help you do nothing at alp
The morning sunshine crept down the
pale green wall paper, sprinkling drops
of gold on the few little geranium plants
that Peter called waste of time" and
lay in noon splendors on the carpet, and
still Carry Carver stood there, thinking
thinking
Garry! Aren't you going to get up
this morning? 1t is half past Z, and"-
Il cannot, Peter" groaned Carry, turn
ing her face away from the light. Il am
suffering such dreadful pains in that foot
1 sprained last night"
"Well, what shall | do?"
"You must take charge of the house
keeping yourself, Peter" said Carry,
hiding smile in the folds of her pillow.
cts only for day or two, and J. don't
know of any help you can obtain. 1t
won't be much, you know"
That's true" said Peter, somewhat
encouraged.
"Please darken the room, and keep the
children away, and don't speak to me if
you can help it. l have such racking
headache, and the least excitement
drives me wild"
caution and went down stairs on creak-
ing tiptoe. AS he passed the nursery
door duet of voices chimed on his ears.
Papa, papa, we are not dressed"
"Dress yourselves, then, can't your"
said Mr.. Carver, pausing.
'Pet is too little to dress herself" said
Tommy loftily, land mamma always
dressed mer'
"Where are your shoes"
81 don't know" said Tommy, with his
finger in his mouth.
81 know" said Pet, aptly revenging
herself for the hit at her diminutive pro-
portions; Tommy dropped them out of
the window"
Crash! went fancy bottle of cologne
off the table as Tommy CROPPED for his
carriers. Bang! fell Mrs. Carver's rose
wood writing desk to the floor, bursting
off the frail hinges and scattering pens,
envelopes and postage stamps far and
wide.
Mr.. Peter Carver was an affectionate
father in a general way, but human ma
ture could not have endured this.
And he bundled the two little crea-
lures miscellaneously into whatever arti-
cles came uppermost, rending off strings
and fracturing buttonholes in frantic
desperation.
The fire obstinately declined to burn,
although Mr.. Carver opened the oven
doors alternately and drew out all the
hampers he could spy.
"Confound the fire!' said Mr.. Carver,
hopping his wet forehead with the stove
cloth. sit won't go. I'll have blaze
of kindling and try the breakfast on
that"
He seized the ham and carved several
thick slices, which he transferred deity
to gridiron, and then, elated with his
success, broke several eggs over the ham.
"Bless me, how they runr' he ejacu-
lated, rather puzzled. "But know I'm
right. / wonder why this coffee doesn't
boil. I'll stick in few more kindlings
that's the idea. There are the children
crying-hungry, l suppose. do believe
they do nothing but eat and cry" Mr..
Carver rushed to attend the peremptory
summons of the milkman.
And then he sat down, tired and spir-
itless, to a repast of half cooked meat
and liquid mud. by courtesy termed cof-