Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1900-08-04

4
Friend. always the same! Sun
shine for others, shadows for mev'
where's the slate, honey2 Where's
the slater piped quavering voice, as
Ann stepped into the dim kitchen and
began to hustle about energetically.
1--WE nun cross it off, honey, we mum
cross 1t off. TITS the 21st to-day, and
the boy comes home on the Goth, bless
the Lordw
Here it's, mother-in-law. Bide quiet
a bit, while l sets the kettle on the
hob"
give days! five days!" echoed the
old woman. "We nun be busy, honey,
and get the place set clean, and the
sheets aired; and Pm thinking, Ann,
If you was to put the things ready for
me as l might make the ginger cake he
used to set such store by, ehP"
Now, mother-in-law, I'll not have
you messing round and making your
self ILL" Ann spoke with decision.
whats good enough for us is good
enough for him"
"But, Ann-'tis my son John-'tis
your own man, Annw
AIMS face grew harder and harder
as she left the kitchen and went up
stairs to her bedroom.
II can't stay, nor l WON'T" said Ann
Friend, suddenly, as she stood looking
out of the window. Nobody could ex-
pect me to stay. She won't care so
1Cnnr oh l. ~
care so long as he's got his liberty and
a roof over his head"
Bending down, she drew a box from
under the bed and began to pack into
1t the contents Of the one chest of
drawers that stood in the room.
At the bottom Of the last drawer she
came upon a little bundle of baby's
clothes, and for moment the hard
ness Of her face softened while she I'M
folded each tiny garment and exam
ined it carefully. Then the cloud re-
turned, the clothes were once more
tied into a bundle and returned to the
now empty drawer.
otis well she died." she thought to
herself. "Tis we'll she can't be
ashamed of her father. I'll leave them
there; he'll like maybe to see how tall
she grew"
Four years ago Ann Friend would
have told you that she was one of the
happiest women in the whole village,
and the village itself would not have
disputed the fact. Yet in two short
years the happiness fed, the husband
was a disgraced man, and Ann, whose
good temper was proverbial, knew her
self to have changed into soured,
hard woman.
The inhabitants of the little village
where Ann had been born and bred
said among themselves that Mrs.
Friend was rare good woman, and
had borne the disgrace of her husbands
Imprisonment as few women would
have borne it.
They never knew the rage that took
possession of proud Ann Friend when
the shadow of disgrace fell upon her
home. They never knew the bitter
contempt that filled her heart when she
thought of the father of her child work
Ing out his sentence in the neighboring
prison.
IF you are innocent, prove It," was
his wife's thought; but the thought
was never put into words for Ann was
one Of those strange characters whose
thoughts are worse than their actions
The mother believed In her sons
word, and counted the days for his re-
turn; the wife allowed her to believe
that she did likewise. Some of the
neighbors believed also in Johns inno-
cence; the wife held her peace, and
they accounted her loyal.
Every day Ann determined to break
down her long reserve-to tell the old
woman that she, Johns wife, would
rather die than be there in person to
welcome him home; yet each day saw
the momentous words unspoken.
AT last the morning of the 26th ar
rived. The explanatory letter was
written and pinned on the pincushion;
the box, corded and addressed, stood In
the clubhouse on the handcart she in
tended wheeling to the nearest station:
the old mother had been dressed In her
best Sunday gown and cap, the coffee
stood ready on the hob; and still the
eilence of two years had not been
broken.
Il may as we'll see how PRISONS
agreed with him" thought Ann, as she
looked at the clock, and saw it was
Just upon 7:30, and then felt irritated
with the consciousness that this
thought had been behind all her &C.