The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1902-01-03
BORN TO EERDE
Author Of I'm HIS STEPS. GLASS;
EDWARD BLAKE"
Copyright. 1900. BY Charles N. sheldon.)

might be expected in a man who was
''in good and regular standing in the
Marble Square church.
ct would be very funny, if it were
not so near a tragedy" he said to him
self as he picked up the broken dishes
while the two boys looked on. "It
would be comical, if it were not so
miserably serious in it's effects on our
home life. Here 1 am doing the dirty,
common work of the kitchen, I, Rich
ard Ward, the dignifed, well-to-do
member of the firm of Mead, Ward and
Company, all because of this girl,
who"
He did not finish the sentence even
to himself, but went on with the work
of clearing the table, making the two
boys sit down in a corner of the din
ing-room while he did the work. When
he had carried everything out, he let
the children go out into the kitchen
with him, while he carefully shut the
door into the dining-room and then
proceeded to "do up" the dishes, let
ting George help, and finally, in an
swer to the younger boys plea. allow
ing him to carry some of the indie
structible dishes into the pantry.
"It's fun, isn't it, papa?" said Carl,
as the last dish was wiped and the
towels hung up.
"Great fun" replied Mr.. Ward,
grimly.
Father means it isn't" said George,
with a superior wisdom.
anyhow, l think it's fun. Only I
don't like the old girls. They make
mamma feel bad. Do they make you
feel bad, papa?'
eyes, my son, they do" replied Mr..
Ward, as he sat down in one of the old
kitchen chairs and took his younger
son into his lap. And, if the truth
were told, if his two small sons had
not been present, it is possible Mr..
Richard Ward might actually have
shed tears over the constantly recur-,
ring tragedy of the "hired girl as it
had been acted in various forms in his
own household during the last five
years since they had moved into the
city and his wife's health begun to
break down from household cares.
"And yet I don't understand these
women" he said to himself, as he sat
there in the kitchen, his chin on the
little boys head, while George
perched on the kitchen table gravely
observant. eve have everything in the
world to do with. Our family is not
very large. Martha is kind, and gives
the girls very many favors. We pay
good wages and are ready to put up
with many kinds of incompetency,
and yet we don't seem to be able to
keep any sort of girl more than
three months at time. 1t is breaking
up our home life. 1t is simply absurd
that I should be doing this kitchen
work, but Martha isn't well, and
there's breakfast to get and all the
work after it."
He thought of his wife in the other
room on the lounge and was filed with
remorse for her.
81 was brute to talk to her so
sharply" he said, out loud.
"Brutes don't talk" said George,
from his elevated post on the table,
speaking from knowledge gained in
study of natural history given him by
his Aunt Wilson.
'Some of them do. The two-legged
c>es," replied his father. And he rose,
and with the boys went into the sit
ting-room.
They found that Mrs. Ward had gone
upstairs in answer to call from
Lewis, the oldest boy of the family,
at home, who had broken his arm the
week before while engaged in sport at
school.
The duty of putting the two young
er lads to bed devolved upon the
father. He performed the duty with
out much heart in it. His wife was si-
lent and in no mood for reconciliation.
When Carl said his usual prayer, he
added: "And bless Maggie, because
she is so bad, and has wandered far
from the fold" repeating phrase he
had heard at Sunday school the week
before. And Mr.. Ward listened with
anything but love of mankind in his
heart, wondering whether he ought
not to be included in the child's petit
ton, esteemed church member though
he might be in the eyes of those who
did not see into his home life.
In the morning he faced tired, list
less, discouraged wife, sitting oppo-
site him at breakfast which had been
prepared with his help, under protest,
and with a spirit of nervous depres-
sion that from experience he knew
well enough meant a miserable day at
home.
He rose from the table with really
desperate feeling, saying again to
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