Middletown transcript., 1901-10-19
nearly as long as that.

she said in low voice.
"Why didn't you answer when
I spoke ?"
T-I wanted you to think I
was asleep" and she smiled
family.
"Why we're you crying"
Il was wakeful, and I wanted
to do something to pass away the
time"
He looked at her reproachfully
then putting her off his knee
arose and walked to the other
side of the room, and stood there
with his back toward her.
She watched him for moment,
with with d miserable expression in
her eyes, then followed him.
Maurice, I will tell you
something about it. I have a
little cross-you would doubtless
think it very, very little that
concerns no one but myself. 'Tis
the only one thing I have kept
from you. And now I ask you
to trust me, ,.and-and let me bear
it in peace" she ended whimsi-
cally.
"Tell me what it is and let me
help you bear it ?"
She shook her head. "The
only way you can Tighten it is to
be patient with me when-when
I am so weak as to show 1 have
it,"
She looked at him beseech-
ingly, and he forebore to ques-
ton her.
Very likely it was a small mat
ter, as she said, and perhaps the
best way was to ignore it or treat
it lightly.
So, after this, when he fancied
he detected the shadow. he would
ask, SIS it the little CROSSE" and
be especially kind. No doubt
she was childish and notional, as
his mother had said; but then she
was young, he reasoned, and
very likely her little troubles
seemed large to her. He wished
she had more of his mothers
strength of character. He saw
her partly through his mothers
eyes, and though he would hardly
acknowledge it to himself, was
not quite satisfied with her.
One autumn day it happened
that owing to repairs being made
in the Office where Maurice
worked, he came home very
early in the afternoon.
As he opened the outer door
he heard someone talking. The
voice, curiously enough, instantly
recalled to his mind certain es-
of his boyhood. 1t was
strange, and yet familiar. He
went upstairs slowly, and before
he reached the top he knew it
was his mother who was speak
ing He paused on the landing,
q startling look in his eyes.
"These windows ought to be
on the outside" she was
saying scolding, ra tn er.
''They're a disgrace to decency!
And there's no excuse at all, ex-
eept slackness. "
"I was intending to have Mrs.
Driscoll do them Monday" Ber-
5ha answered patiently; "but
here was a large washing and
she seemed so tired
"Some people would do it |
themselves" snapped Mrs. Gay,
'but other people prefer to
,quander their husbands money |
Ind be a constant drag"
81 have learned by hard ex-
oerience that it doesn't pay for
ne to do such work" The an
;wer was still patient.
"No, it pays better to gad |
sbout the streets half the after
1oon with baby-carriage. Oh, |
you needn't speak, know what |
you'll say to that: TT is neces-
sary to baby's health, - sneer-
ngly. "He'd be a deal better off |
n the house. But, no-you
want to CAD, and he makes a
good excuse. I never took my
oabies out at all when it was as
clustering as It's to-day. He
seems a little feverish, too"
81 think that mince-pie last
hight didn't quite agree with
1im.' Bertha spoke depreca-
,ingly. ell don't like him
aver to have it.
"Another of your cranky no.
ions!' Mrs. Gay was angry
low. "The idea of a little mince-
Die hurting a year-and-a-half old
BOY! 'Tis ridiculous, and l tell
L 4