Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1899-05-04
I cried over that, too; because

man really ought to be willing TO sacrl'
fee himself in every way if he could
only make his wife happy; but Tom
was obdurate and we couldn't starve.
So, stole the jam, His mother was
such suspicious woman that she al
ways kept her jam closet locked. And
one dreadful day our hired girl caught
me-hired girls were dreadfully un-
sympathetic creatures when I was
young-and took both of us upstairs
to mother.
| Oh, but Tom came splendidly to my
rescue. "Don't you dare lick her,
Mrs. Montgomery" he said, just as
big and brave as if he was truly grown
up. "She's my wife, and-and l
made her borry your jam just to keep
our family from starving. There's six
dolls to be fed and-and I eat a lot
and Katie has to have some"
Mother was busy, so she just laughed
and told the girl to give us some every
day and then we wouldn't be tempted
| to steal.
Tom said I had such splendid
mother he believed he'd come over to
our house to live--but he never did.
His mother acted dreadfully when she
heard of it. He had his things all
packed up in q valise and cigar box.
ready to come and, when he went to
say good bye, she cried and took on
awfully. Tom said it was perfectly
splendid-she could cry better than I
could, and then we had our first quar-
rel. 1t was dreadful, the things he
said, just like grown up man for all
the world; and I began sewing my
black calico strips together again, for
Tom vowed he was going off to fight
Indians and I instinctively knew I'd
soon be widow; for Tom never quit
anything until he had gotten himself
killed for me to cry over.
The very day he brought me this
bouquet he had died twice--once from
a terrific Indian battle and the mex
time from sunstroke-and suddenly
discovering he hadn't been at the of
fee at all that day, he hurried dowr
town and picked these flowers for mt
on his way home.
The next day cruel fate and oul
stern parents separated us. w
moved out West and I took along m,
black calico and was q widow when
ever 1 thought about it; but it wa
desperately lonely and I was trul.
heartbroken, and Tom-well, I neve
saw Tom until last winter when
!; came East and established a studio
He's grown to be big, handsome fel
low, little gray and-a bit of cynic
I fear. He comes to see me, some
times. He says it's quite refreshing
to talk to o genuine old maid whit
hasn't particle of sentimental non
7 sense about her.
D Tonight, when he said that, be
gan gabbling as fast as L could abou
. Dewey's bravery and Hobson's hero
s. ism, until he yawned gently behin
. his hand, and said quietly: "They ar
: all very well. I'm proud of them
$ but I cannot keep thrill at fever hea
l forever-could you?"
Hardly. Old maids take no stool
in thrills--they cannot be cashed,"
n retorted-hastily searching throug
+ my desk for paper of statistics h
} wanted, when the drawer fell out an
my precious bouquet came tumblin
/ into view.
"Whats that!" he exclaimed in
, tone that sent the blood flying into m
r face.
l I quickly put away my treasur
: : without looking at him (even an oil
, , maid doesn't like to be caught blush
ing) and carelessly answered: "Just
little souvenir given me by dea
friend"
He laughed-such a harsh, bitter
cynical laugh-and turned ava,
! abruptly, saying; "And Ihad though
you woman without any romance
whatever in her past! Heigho! but
women are all alike. If yol
. have that paper ready I believe viii
60 now"
I gave it to him and he left withou
l another word-and now-I sit staring
staring, staring at ny pitiful littl,
bouquet and, th hough flood of tender
, memories comes over me, [ almos
, wish he hadn't seen this bunch O
clover blossoms and grasses that h
gave me so long ago.
, He must have forgotten. Men al
ways do forget, 1t is only silly fool
; ish women who never can teach them
selves how to forget
J Heighol 1t is stupid, dreary oil
!, !, world-after all.
. . And L laugh-such q weary, sense
less laugh-as 1 think how fortunat
it is that I am genuine old maid
without any sentimental nonsense. -
Detroit Free Press.