The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1902-09-15
Concerning a Drip Coffee Pot

| never expected to insult my stomach with,
| and you make me set in room all fixed
up with what you call art and sech fool
| 1shness, but not step further, Marthy.'
says l. So since then we done pretty
| well.'
The unappreciative husband of a pro-
gressive woman walked into the house
with an amount Of self tisfaction rather
| remarkable, considering the troubles that
the morning had brought him.
Breakfast time was passed. His wife
| hustled about to set warm food on the
| table while he washed his hands. Her
| merry eyes and firm mouth indicated
| sweetness tempered with an appreciation
of authority. She and her husband, q
| childless couple, had lived together fifteen
years. -."
"All right, old lady," announced Bax-
| ter. Bring on the coffee" He ate his
| cereal and other foolish vittles" which
had followed the advent of the wonan's
club, and, depressed by these, he medi-
! tated on the lame horse, the dead COW
| and the drenched hay.
| "Marthy," he began, and sat up very
straight, whats that?" he demanded.
That's a new coffeepot," vouch-safed
| his wife calmly. It's called a drip coffee
! pot. There was paper at the club told
| all bout Them e,
| The word which slipped from the lips
| Of Lyman Baxter, church member, as
tonished his wife into letting her spec
| tacles fall. Lyman Baxter!'' she gasped.
Martha, either me or that coffeepot
leaves this house. Understand that. My
grandmother's hair wreath I forguv you.
| My miserable, God forsaken food, 'hygienio
food" he sneered, II forguv you But
mans got a right to decent coffee In
| his own house. Don't tell me that coffee.
pots any good. know it amt. Marthy.
you got to stop, right there
| 'Lyman!" cried his wife.
| Il mean 1t, Marthy,' he shouted
| IF you treat me this way, I'm going
for good and all, Lyman Baxter" She was
In tears now, but they had no effect on
her husband.
| go and be welcome!'' he shouted II
can hire some one to wait on me that'u
| give me peaceful life!"
Mrs. Baxter went. She was astounded
beyond measure when she found herself
in her sisters" house, but she went, and
once gone she would sooner die she de-
| clared, than return to tyrant.
But free life palled on her after the
first day. Lyman's faults were carefully
magnifed, but the effect was never salts
factory. Sometimes in her own room she
cried and called herself names.
In this way three months passed. Mrs.
Bakers anxiety to know whether or not
the hired girl looked after Mr.. Baxter
linen grew daily more unbearable.
, 1t was a chilly night of late September.
| The Baxter place, quite outside the town
limits, looked desolate. 1t seemed -espe-
cially SO to one woman who climbed the
hill with short gasps and stopped fire.
quently to look about her. II amt goin
back" she murmured, her careful speech
deserving her. I'll just look inside and
see as how he's comfortable
Within, Mr.. Baxter sat before the
kitchen stove and smoked a pipe in q
1 mournfully meditative fashion. He sal
that way and smoked every evening. .
Il guess she's bout right" he muir.
INJURED. Il am an old fogy. Oh. yes;
I guess she's right. Who's there? Mar.
I thy!"- He pushed back his chair ant
l gazed as at ghost.
Lyman" sobbed Marthy. Lyman,
didn't mean to come in, but you looked
S SO lonesome and I'm so lonesome, too
t Lyman, and if you'll forgive me-
l Lyman put shaking arm around her
and they wept together in open disregard
r of the Unconditional creed of their kind
e Lyman, do you forgive me?" I'll leave
VI the club. I will never do anything new
Y again.
e He turned her round gently and pointed
i, ITO the stove. There stood, bright anC
r Imposing, the drip coffee pot. I've beer
: usin it every day, Marthy. since 70,
), went I did 1T to try not to be an OLE
+ fogy for your sake. You can do what 70,
= like, old woman. And, say, it make
/ great Coffee