Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1902-07-03
FOURTH OF JULY AT ToOKER's.

The Sd of July at Orr's Mills was
full of the stinging noises that seem
to belong to very hot, breathless days.
1t presaged even hotter things for the
Fourth of July.
Mrs. Tooker was ironing in her lit
tie, sitting kitchen. Her meek, thin
face was unwontedly flushed and
trickling with little streams Of perspi-
ration.
Windows and doors were shut
There were no screens and Lavinla
Tooker couldn't "abide" flies. 1t was
the only thing she had ever felt
courage enough to abide or not abide.
Adam Tooker lounged outside in
the shade in his shirt sleeves. Aunt
Lois Knapp, next farm, said body
hadn't only to look once at Adam
Tooker's chin to see who was head OF
that house.
Mrs. Tooker looked at it now
through the window, but she saw only
the grizzled forerunners of beard.
In it's firm, hard lines and masterful
curves she saw no significance.
"Seems as if I never knew starch
to stick the way this does" she
groaned, scraping little fakes of 1T
from the iron with a case knife.
"And just when I'm in an awful hur-
ry, too wish Adam would let me
try that satin starch Aunt Lois brags
about. But he won't. It's 5 cents
pound more" She sighed gently.
The sitting room door opened sud-
denly and Mary Tooker came out.
She had some sewing in her hand.
"Why, mother, she exclaimed
you'll melt This kitchen is like
furnace of fire. If you'd only have
the window open But, anyway, III
leave the sitting room door open
thatll be some help"
"No. 10. Mary, DON'T There don't
need to but one of US melt"
"Well, l guess l can stand it as
well as you can. I'm going to see If
I can't" She edged herself gently
into her mothers place and wrested
the iron from the tired fingers. Her
sewing slipped to the floor.
Was it the influence of Independ-
ence day, forerunning it little, that
put the accent of command into Mary
lockers voice and the little jerk of
mastery into her shoulders? Her
mother succumbed to them weakly.
81 am tuckered," she said, "but
your fathers shirts got to be done up
and the collars aud cuffs. He's de-
cided he's going to the celebration
over to Strattord." }"
"Yes, he said he was at dinner,
mother" the girl faced about reso-
lutely. "Why don't you go with
him ?"
"Me? Why, Mary Ann TOoker !
Me -
"Yes, you. l guess it won't hurt
you any to have one good time IN
your life. guess you deserve it.
There, there, you needn't look SO
scared. Father won't hear me. He's
fast asleep. You go up stairs and lie
down, mother. I'll finish the ironing.
Mary Tooker was 20 years old, and
she Cooked it, Aunt Lois Knapp
said. Over her temples already the
hair was thin and had its gray lining,
which Mary kept snugly covered as
long as she could. Her shoulders
stopped little. Even her skirts had
reuounced the follies and the frills OF
youth and fell scantily around her,
like an old womans.
Mary Tooker had never been young
in her life. There had been a short,
young month, to be sure, when John
Tracy came nearly every afternoon up
the front walk and staidly drank tea
with her out of the best china teacups,
but could "being young" be crowded
into a month +? When Msry's father
came back at the months end, the
lines in his chin had deepened obsti-
nately, and John Tracy. in pity of
Mary's frightened distress, had agreed
to stay away.
Until you call me back, Mary"
he had said gravely. 81 shall wait. "
But that was years ago. Now
John Tracy's hair was thinning, too,
and growing gray. His shoulders
stopped too. Would Mary ever call
him back?
Mary Tooker ironed the sticky shirt
bosom with conscientious care on July
Sd in the little sweltering kitchen.
Every crease she pulled out painstak-
l'inely. Every speck she sponged