Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1900-11-21

The last tack was In now. He stood
up and surveyed his work with an ex-
preston of satisfaction and then began
to gather up his tools.
Tel me about your marriage and what
1t is that makes you so happy" said the
mistress of the house persuasively.
He seemed quite willing to comply with
her request. He slipped on his thread
bare coat, and, leaning, tall and ungainly,
against the doorpost, he folded his arms
and began half apologetically:
Il know very well that hadn't ought
to marry, there being circumstances in
life when man has no right to think of
his own comfort. The rest all took it for
granted that I'd never marry, and l al
ways said l wouldn't. But that was be-
fore I'd seen Lizzie.
"She was all alone in the world, poor
little thing, and worked in restaurant
down town. i couldn't afford to take
many meals at restaurants, as you may
guess, but | used to drop into that one
sometimes and order a doughnut and
cup of coffee. If l couldn't get seat at
Lizzie's table, could watch her wait on
other people, and even that was worth a
good deal"
You considered her pretty, of course?"
Yes, ma'am, as picture. You'd nev-
er see prettier complexion nor clearer
blue eyes nor nicer hair, of light color
and soft as a child's, and her hands were
little bits of white hands, like born Ia
dy's. She had such a kind look on her
face, too, and wearing her white apron,
always so spick and span clean, and that
little white cap she looked like an angel
to me, though l expect angels don't ever
wear aprons and caps.
81 don't know, 1 don't, indeed, how l
ever mustered up courage enough to ask
a girl like that to marry me, but / did,
and she said Yes though l was a good
deal older than she was and was poor
and nothing to look at. Then there came
the dread of telling the folks at home l
knew mighty well they wouldn't like it,
and they didn't. Father and mother
were both awful huffy about it, and Aunt
Jane was just wrathy; said she'd always
known that men were selfish, but she
hadn't thought that even l could be so
bad as to take the bread out of my own
family's mouths to give to stranger, a
silly girl, she said, who'd faunt round
and put all my wages on to her own back.
well, l did feel little guilty when
they called me selfish, and could under
stand just how they felt about it, but l
lost my temper and made Aunt Jane keep
quiet when she began ON Lizzie.
After we were married-that was four
years agony wife wanted to keep right
on In her old place, but l wouldn't hear
to 1t. I'd married her to take care of her,
and | was going to do it if / worked my
fingers to the bone. But she was such a
good housekeeper and fine manager that
she saved money out of what i gave her
for the butcher and groceryman, and we
just had loads of pleasure on what she
saved. Saturday she'd fix a lunch in a
basket, and when my work was done
we'd meet some place and go to Lincoln
park, where we'd have a little picnic all
to ourselves, and sometimes we'd take a
trip to Cheltenham or even go as far as
Pullman. In the winter we sometimes
went to the theater-not the expensive
ones where they cut and slash around in
grand style, but to the 80 cent shows,
where they come out and sing and dance
ut wasn't reasonable to expect that
such luxury and happiness could last
long, and it didn't. Lizzie was taken sick
and had to go to the hospital, and there
were weeks and weeks of misery for her
and for me. When she came out, she
was like little ghost, and though her
eyes were as pretty as ever, she couldn't
see out Of them any more"
His voice faltered, and his listener said
sympathetically:
THAT was very sad for both of you"
The doctors gave us a little hope, but
told us not to build too much on it. They
said that, as her blindness was caused by
surgical operation and not by disease
OF the eye itself, she might get her sight
back some time and suddenly.
She must have led miserable life
all day with the old people, all Of 'em so
fretful and she all in the dark, but the
little woman never complained. When
I'd ask her about it, she'd beg me not to
talk about her, but to tell what I'd seen
during the day. And used to tell her
of the fine houses I'd been in and of the
ladies I'd seen and describe what they
had on, though l don't think | could
write for fashion book. I'd tell her the
funny things that happened to make her
laugh, and as don't see much really, be-
ing always so busy when I'm in peoples
houses, l got to making up lots and lots
of things that never happened. Why, it
was only yesterday that l told her of a
quarrel heard between a fat old man
and a cross eyed woman, and neither of
'em ever lived in this world or any other
Ananias amt in 1t with me!
But this morning, this blessed morn
ing, while l was taking my breakfast
my wife got up from her chair, and, put
ting her arms around my neck, began to
cry, oh, JoeP she says, just like that
oh, Joer
"1t wasn't bit like her to act SO, and
| says, astonished:
Why, Liz, what's the matter with
you| And she says, 4 can seer"
The mistress of the house turned her
head and looked out of the window, but
her eyes were yelled by mist.-Chicago
Evening Post.
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