The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1896-03-25


><E "a street stood the little
" "a RS white house Jack Ward
EN0<w was pleased to call his
~ own. Fiveyears he had
~ ~ lived there, he and
ID IN - Dorothy. How happy
U ~ A. they had beenl But
things seemed to have gone wrong
some way, since-since the baby died
in the spring. A cob came into Jacks
throat, for the little face had haunted
him all day.
Never a sound had the baby lips
uttered, and the loudest noises had
not disturbed his rest. 1t had seemed
almost too much to Dear, but they had
loved him more, if that we're possible,
because he was not as other children
were. Jack had never been recon-
ciled, but Dorothy found a world Of
consolation in the closing paragraph
of magazine article on the subject.
''And yet we cannot believe these
Children of Silence to be unhappy.
Mrs. Browning says that closed eyes
see more truly than ever open do, ;
and may there not be another world of
music for those TO whom our own is
soundless? In certain sense they are
utterly beyond the pain that life al
ways brings, for never can they hear
the cruel words beside which physical
hurts sink into insignidcance. So
pity them not, but believe that He
knoweth best, and that what seems
wrong and bitter IS often His truest
kindness to His children"
Dorothy read it over and over until
she knew it by heart. There was q
certain comfort in the thought that he
need not suffur-t that he need never
find what wealth of bitterness lies in
that one little word-life. And when
the hard day came she tried to be
thankful, for she knew that he was
safer still tried 10 see the kindness
that had taken him back into the Un-
known Silence of which he was the
Child.
Jack went up the steps this mild
winter evening, whistling softly to
himself, and opened the door with his
latch key. "Where are you, girlie?"
Cup stairs, dear I'll be down in a
minute" and even as she spoke Dor.
othy came into the room.
In spite of her black gown and the
hollows under her eyes she was q
very pretty women. She knew it, and
Jack did, too. That is, he had known,
but he had forgotten.
"Here's the evening paper" He
tossed it into her lap as she sat down
by the window.
"Thank YOU" She wondered
vaguely why Jack didn't kiss her as he
used to, and then dismissed the
thought. She was growing accus-
toned to that sort of thing.
'How nice of you to come by the
early train 1 didn't expect you till
LATER" tsSSs
"There wasn't much going on in
town, so left the Office early. ANY
mail? No? Guess I'll take Jip out
for a STROLL" The fox terrier at his
feet wagged his tail approvingly.
"Want to go, Jip?"
Jip answered decidedly in the affirm
ative. "All right, come on" and
Dorothy watched the two go down
the street with an underlined feeling
of pain.
She lit the prettily shaded lamp
and tried to read the paper, but the
political news, elopements, murders,
and suicides lacked interest. She won
dered what had come between her
and Jack. Something had there was
no question of that, but-well, it
would come straight some time. Per.
haps she was morbid and unjust. She
couldn't ask him what was the matter
without making him angry, and she
had tried so hard to make him happy.
Jip announced his arrival at the
front door with a series of sharp
barks and an unmistakable scratch.
She opened it as Jack sauntered slow
ly up the walk, and passed her with
the remark, ''Dinner ready? I'm as
hungry as bear"
Into the cozy dining room they
went, Jip first, then Jack, and then
Dorothy. The daintily served meal
satisfied the inner man, and he did
not notice that she ate but little. She
honestly tried to be entertaining, and
thought she succeeded fairly we'll.
After dinner he retired into the depths
of the evening paper, aud Dorothy
stitched away at her embroidery.
Suddenly Jack looked at his watch.
"Well, it's half-past seven, and I've
got to go over to Mrs. Browns to
practice a duet with her for to.mor.
row"
Dorothy trembled, but only said,
ooh, yes, the duet. What is it this
timer"
"'Calvary,' ] guess. That seems to
take the multitude better than any.
thing we sing. No, Jip, not this time.
GOod-by-l won't be gone long"
The door slamme,, and Dorothy
was alone.
She put away her embroidery ana
walked the floor restlessly. Mrs.
Brown was a pretty widow, always
well dressed. and she sang diyineiy.
Dorothy could not sing a note, though
she played fairly we'll, and Jack got
into habit of taking Mrs. Brown new
music and 0uinU over to sinU n ,pitl,