The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1899-10-06

the little front porch where they used
to sit of evenings. When he and l sit
there in the summer time and l see his
eyes way off yonder, l know he's
thinking of her."
She ironed slowly, staring throug i
the window, her own eyes moist. II
know" she reiterated softly, that he
is thinking how he used to sit there
with her, and he is wishing it was him
and her again instead of him and me-"
She took to ironing faster.
"Ill never forget the day she died."
she continued. "She died three days
after the baby was born. She never
liked me somehow, but l didn't let that
interfere with doing my neighborly
duty by her. l went over and helped
take care of her.
"The baby was born dead, but she
grieved after it the same as if it had
been a living child. She would lie there
staring up at the ceiling and grieving
until it was pitiful to see her. l be-
lieve it was that that killed her. She
didn't want to live and it dead. One
day II llu0C u Dl1AS Jul IFS 1llllS
clothes and lay them On the bed all
around her. She fingered the sleeves,
the tears rolling down her cheeks.
'There'l never be any little arms in
| tnem,' she said and turned her face to
the wall.
Il put the things back in the drawer
where she couldn't see them any more.
'That last day she was burning up
with fever. Her little feet were hot rs
fire. So We're her hands. She talked
Tightly about the baby, about how she
wanted to see it and they wouldn't let
her. How could they and it dead? l
sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her
poor hot feet, when suddenly they be-
gan to get cold, and she stopped talk
ing.
81 sent for John in a hurry. When he
came, he was like a mailman. He
knelt down by her bed and begged her
to listen to him. Don't go away with
out telling me goodby, sweetheart! he
said, a-sobbing between the words.
Don't leave me like this! Say goodby
to me, sweetheart!
81 put my hand on his shoulder. !
wanted to tell him that she was past
speaking, and past hearing for that
matter, but he stared up at me as If he
had never seen me before. Go away
he said. Leave me alone with her,
can't you? Go away! And he gave me
a push.
81 went out and shut the door,"
Che aJo1~oI how olhou,o an tho hrord
and looked hard at Susan, who had
dropped her knitting in her lap.
- II think the only reason he married
me-" she said sadly, "was because !
took good care Of her. But sometimes l
wish he hadn't. He'll never forget her,
and l can't make him. l do everything
l can to please him. l keep this place
like wax from garnet to cellar, but it
might be heller skelter from n weeks
end to the other for all the notice he
takes of it. I stand in this kitchen for
hours cooking things to please him,
and he hardly tastes them. He sits and
stares across the table at me- and I
know he doesn't see me. He sees her
there opposite him in her old place
that / have taken. The look in his eyes
hurts me, Susan"
Susan heaved a sigh and again took
up the glove. Maybe you imagine it,"
she said.
Ann stood erect. She replaced the
cold iron with a hot one.
81 wish ! did," she said. 81 only
wish l did. l don't complain. You
mustn't think that. He is kind to me.
There couldn't be a kinder man, but
kindness amt all a woman wants. She
wants a little love mixed up with it
sometimes-just a little bit of love.
"Listen! Last night l was lying by
his side wide awake and he asleep and
dreaming. After awhile he threw his
arm around my neck and kissed me in
his sleep. Sweetheart he said, my
sweetheart! You'd have felt sorry for
me then if you could have seen how
still lay, hardly daring to breathe for
fear he would wake and find that it
was me there by his side and not his
sweetheart"
maybe he meant you," said Susan.
"Don't he ever call you sweetheart 2 "
mo, and he never called her any
thing else"
The basket was empty. Not a single
towel, sheet, napkin or FELLOWSHIP re-
NAMED to interfere with AIMS work
on Wednesday-her baking day. She
was ironing the last piece, a damask
tablecloth, her best cloth, which she
reserved for company. Traced upon it
was a pattern of ivy leaves. Under
the manipulation of her iron this pat
tern shone, raised into brilliancy by
the heat and the pressure Of her strong
right hand.
A tear dropped. She quickly ironed
1t out and, passing her sleeve across
her eyes, caught two other tears.
Then the slow, soft sweep of the iron
over the steaming linen, back and
forth, this way and that and sidewise,
made r%hythmical music in the silent
room, while Susan's needles clicked in
silent sympathy.