The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1896-02-08

thing exactly the same amount as you
had given her." l said. $50 now, you
understand, the child belongs to both
of u.s."
She bit her lip. ut is all the same to
me-" she observed, after thinking for
a moment, and kissed the little one with |
a vehemence that sounded like chal-
lenge.
Our child, forsooth! l hardly ever |
got a sight of it, and all the changes oui |
establishment suffered on his account
happened as it were away over my head.
Sometimes, in more than usually inn
portant matters, my consent was
grudgingly asked. "We need a nurse;
l have already secured one, Anselm."
i nodded mutely.
Or il would be: "We must arrange n
nursery-it is too warm for the child up
there"
Again nodded, without a word-the
workmen were already busy in the pas
sage. There was nothing to be done, for
was it not all for our child?
We two seldom talked about him.
When we did, we always spoke of him
as at" But 1 was all the more con-
scious all day long of the presence of
this 1t in the house. "Hush! not SO
much noise; 1t is asleep. 1t must have
its dinner. 1t must go out. 1t has hurt
itself" The whole household began by
degrees to revolve around it. This
nameless Neuter annoyed me.
"It is absurd; he must have name,"
l said, at last.
81 quite forgot to ask the mother.
neon the woman-his name," answered
my wife. "She said she was coming
again, but she has never been; I sup
pose she is ill. Well, shall call 1t Max.
Max Is pretty and short. Don't you
| think SOP"
! "H'm," said i, between two puffs of
my cigar. "Fritz is nice name, too"
at can't have it's name changed about
| for what everyone Thinks" she an
swered, shortly; and, going to the door.
she cried: rs Max up YETI" Our child,
| indeed!
On one occasion, however, did assert
my due share in our child. At lunch
time 1t was having dinner at little
table in the adjoining room. In the in
tervals of our scanty, Pickering CONVEX
sation we heard his merry babble, ac-
companied by the rattle of his spoon.
Ny wife had not a moments rest; she
was perpetually to and fro between Our
table and his, to see If the soup were not
too hot, or if 1t were not perhaps taking
too much.
"Wife," / said, quietly, but very de-
cidedly, "from tomorrow 1t shall have
its meals at table with us. 1t is two
years old-quite old enough"
From that time 1t dined with us.
Sitting up in its high elbow-chair like
a prince, close beside my wife, the two
opposite seemed like hostile party.
The poverty-stricken yellowish palor
of the little face had given place to a
delica5e, aristocratic bloom, and the
round cheeks above the stiff folds of
the dinner napkin looked prosperous
and cherubic. Bravely did it work
away at its soup, and when it was fin
ished the little, round fist grasped the
spoon on the table like scepter. My
wife and had exchanged a few words
and now sat silent. AS the silence was
prolonged, the great eyes seemed to
open wider and wider. They gazed at
my wife, gazed at me, in establishment,
almost uncannily comprehending, like
the eyes of grown-up person who felt
that all was not as it should be between
us. l confess frankly that those eyes
confused me, and that it was relief
when Friedrich entered with the next
course. And l know my wife felt the
same.
1t was the same thing next day. The
big, wonderfully blue eyes always
seemed to be gazing sort of reproach-
full question at the pauses in our talk
and, absurd as it may seem, we two,
man and woman, felt ashamed before
the child. Thus it happened that by
degrees our talk became more ami
mated; we explained and elucidated
the opportune lispings to one another
and even sometimes laughed heartily
together over the little ones stumbling
efforts at talk.
|
bell. How was it had never noticed il
before? 1t happened often now that as
I bent over my writing that ringing
laugh seemed to sound clearly in my
ears, as though borne from affair.
With the first spring days 1t carried
on its doings in the garden, of which
/ commanded view from my seat in
the Office; and she was generally there
too. l heard the patter of the little
feet in the gravel, and then her step
Now, as she made snatch at it, its
chirping voice We'd with the chorus OF
sparrows-now she held it, and heard
the sound of kisses.
How could work with such music
going on? 1 had opened the window;
a warm balmy air streamed in, and a
butterfly strayed on to my writing desk
Then she appeared from behind green.
besprinkled thicket, dressed in dazzling
white, upon which the sun poureH n