The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1896-05-02
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side whispered.
Mary had been tailoress before
she was married. She was ambitious
beyond her workers, deft with
her needle, quick with her tongue,
and she dreamed OF future far diff
ferent than the life of John Bray's
wife. But ten hours day at sew
ing machine, wears upon woman,
John asked her to marry him, and
she thought the little brown house
would be paradise. She kept the
rooms spotlessly neat, she planted
and tended flowers, and helped her
husband in the strip of land where
their vegetables were. She had been
married four years. Johns salary
was no higher, the house began to
look little shabby here and there,
and Mary pined for companionship
and grew bitter as she saw her ideals
of life being slowly strangled one by
one. John was away most of the
time. When he came home he want
ed his supper, or his paper, and his
wife dropped all her merry ways. She
thought he despised them and in
that she was wrong. He liked to be
amused, but he made the mistake
of accepting without thanks. She
thought him cold and irresponsible.
She thought him changed. 1t had
ing to him before that Sunday even
come that she was unhappy. Now he
brooded over it. Sometimes he re-
preached himself, more often, as poor
human nature goes, he was out of
patience with her. Day after day,
when he went home for his monday
dinner, the little kitchen reeked of
soap-suds, and the floor was damp
from scrubbing. Often it was SO at
night. He knew his wife was discon-
tented.
you'll wear that floor out" he said
angrily, one night.
"I'll wear the heart out of me,
first" was the retort. And John went
away without kissing her good bye.
sits enough to make man stay
out of his home," he muttered, and
then-he saw train stop, and half
mechanically he began to run. 1t
had only stopped for orders and
began to move before he came up.
Looking along the track, he saw
woman catch the rail of the last
car and swing herself on. When
he reached the place, he saw curl
GUS black object on the bank. He
jumped the ditch and took hold of it.
1t was basket. He opened it, be-
meath the red semaphore light, started
back with muttered words, shut the
lids tight down, and ran down to his
house. Mary was wiping the tea
things.
"What's up?" she asked.
"See here" he said, lifting both
lids of the old fashioned market
basket. A little baby lay there, blink
ing, squirming, and crying a little.
''Where did you get that, John
Bray?"
He told her.
Take it back" she cried. "I'll
have no girls brat around me-"
Hadn't we better keep it till
mornin'? I'll let the constable or
somebody know about it. Then they
kin take it away"
swell" Mary assented, ian I'll take
it out, it's all crowded up there"
John went off to his work, and
Mary's tea dishes stood while she
lifted out the tiny baby, and tended
to it. There were clothes and food
in the basket and note, beseeching
the finder to care for the three weeks
old baby girl. Mary wept and
crooned by turns over the wee, dark
haired thing and presently it went to
sleep in her arms.
Nine o'clock came, ten, half-past
ten, and still Mary sat with the baby
in her arms. John came in, and she
straightway motioned him to silence.
"Why don't you set it down9" he
asked.
Il waz waitin' fer you to turn down
the bed, fer she seemed so comforta-
BILE cuddled up here l hated to rout
her up, dom the things myself"
Johns boots were noisy, as he
stepped about.
"Hadn't ye better go stockin'-
footed? Yell wake her up" suggested
Mary. John took the oath of allegi-
ance to the baby sovereign mentally
and drew off his shoes.
"Ain't she a picture9" asked the
wife, when she had nestled the wee
thing down.
81 guess you liked holdin' that
baby in yer arms" John began, and
Mary hid her face on his shoulder