The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1897-07-06

IaUUer course ana, with quivering lips,
LETT the room, and shut herself ND In
the nursery, where the fire was dying
on the hearth and the baby breathing
softly in strange contrast to her over.
wrought condition.
"Well, it was provoking. Women
always must Cry and fly into a passion
about trifles." y,
But her husband, even as he thought
these words, began to feel repentant.
He remembered the teething baby, and
the long day at home alone. In
another moment he would have fol-
lowed his wife upstairs and, with kisses
and kind words, make amends for the
pains he had given her. But q door
bell rang, and a summons to visit a
sick man at some distance away sent
him at once out into the wet night.
And all domestic grievances were for
gotten before he had driven two blocks.
The patient lived in a squalid part
OF the town, down by the river. The
darkness seemed deeper in this poor
neighborhood, the rain more soaking,
and the wind keener.
The river swept sullenly by, q black,
swollen tide re fl setting the faring lights
on the bridge.
But the doctor minded this discom
fort very little. He was in love with
his profession, ardent and young. Be-
sides, the despised dinner had given
him new courage to go forth into the
fight with pain and death.
He entered the room of the low house
to which he had been directed with @
face quite free from impatience. A
woman opened the door for him-a
lean, miserable creature, with pale
eyes void Of expression. Her thin
hair struggled over her neck; her cal
leo dress hung limp and dragged from
her sharp shoulders. She started at
the doctor as he entered, and he could
see that there were tears in her child
like eyes.
"Joe's SICK" she said, slowly, still
gazing into his face.
"He-he's goin' ter die, may be-, she
faltered, piteouely.
"Ohl / hope not" was the hearty re
ply.
"Joe's sick" she repeated in a whis,
per and shaping her head.
"Who's Gomez" exclaimed q voice
from one bed in one corner of the room.
'FNelly, girl, who are ye talkin' withG"
Its DR.. Ford, whom you sent for, "
said the doctor, approaching the bed.
Ona candle in tin candlestick lighted
dimly the untidy, comfortless place,
the stove, and q man with
tumbled~ hair and rough beard lying
among the pillows of the bed.
"OhI the doctor" said he, with few
erish eyes staring from under shaggy
brows.
"How long have you been illG" asked
the physician, sitting down on a rickety
chair.
Its a week since I give up" an
swered the sick man, ''but I've been
feeling bad a long time back"
DR.. Ford placed his little thermome
ter under the patients tongue, and
waited silently.
"Joe's SICK" moaned the girl peer
out of the shadows.
Tie sufferer seemed to be irritated
by the repetition of these words, and
made an impatient gesture; but as he
did so, glanced pitifully towards the
slouching figure.
what you most need is good nurs
ing" said the doctor, after examining
the thermometer.
The mans face darkened. The wo
man moved away and lowered aim
lessly over the stove.
she's my wife" said the sick man,
hoarsely. 81 know she amt quite like
other folks. But she's peaceable and
good, not bold and noisy like the other
women. I pitied her fret off; then I
got kind o. fond of her. And She"
His wife had crept to the bedside,
and stood there with her vacant,
troubled face fumbling with helpless.
looking hands at the pillows.
Joe" she said, "Joe," much as a
mother might speak her baby's name.
"5he can do nothing for me, MOI for
herself" whispered the man, as he
clasped fesbly one of the f~0ttering
hands in his.
81 can earn good wages when I'm
WE'LL" he went on, land 1 did the cook.
ing and keep the house tidy then. But
now everytbing's going wrong. She
spoils all the v~ictuals, but she don't