The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1903-01-17

side him once more. "You never think
Of me any more" ~. -. 49,. -. .. r.
But do think of you, sweetheart"
He patted her head persuasively. Lots
Of times when you don't know 1t. If
you'd only tell me what you want, dear.
I'm such a bad guesser. And you know
you really do wish to see my mother and
show her the children" .@ A.
Its the fourth time that she has sent
word that she was coming" said his wife,
pensively. She was already forecasting
the plan Of action to be pursued in making
ready for the expected guests.
AS Ethel Warning rubbed and polished
and busted she could but remember that
she had gone through the process Of
cleaning three times before for Henry's
mother, who had always hitherto disap-
pointed her. She prided herself on being
really fond of her mother in-law, and his
sister Nan had been her particular friend,
but Aunt Eliza and Mary Appleton were
| the kind Of people-well, the kind Of peo
pie that belonged to her husbands family,
and they always saw everything around
| the house. She cleaned now for the
| fourth time magnaninously, and there
was something grimly sacrificial In her
preparations now that upheld her in her
disappointment; her husband could not
remember her pleasure, but she was work
ing her fingers off for his people. Yes,
she had nothing to look forward to but
neglect-and the worst of it was that he
would not even know that he was neglect
ing her.
Perhaps, however, he did remember, af-
ter all. She watched every word and
gesture of his up to the very morning of
their anniversary. He was so happy and
merry and affectionate in his efforts to
win her smiles that she could hardly with
stand the infectiousness Of 1t. But she
felt after his cheerful good-by as If the
tragedy of her future years had begun.
| There was, indeed, no time for the lux
ury of quiet ,wretchedness. The two chill
dren had to be bathed and put to bed for
| the morning nap, which she prayed might
be q long one, so that the last clearing
might be done, and the table set, and the
salad dressing made, and the cream
whipped for the jelly, and she herself
| dressed and in the draWing-room before
~ o'clock. .... Is . .s.~--,sr- g.. ?
There was the usual panic when the
butcher was late with the chickens, and
the discovery was made that the green
grocer had not brought what was ordered
and the usual hurried sending forth OF
Beesy to the village at the last momen,
for the missing lettuce, only to be told
that there was none in town this day
4 But finally everything was ready the ia.
BILE set to perfection, the drawing room
curtains drawn at their most effective
angle, the logs burning on the andirons
the chairs set most coz1ly, and the vase
Of jonquils with, their long, green stalk.
showing through the clear glass, giving
a lovely brightness to the room In theil
, hint of approaching spring. The babies
sweet and fresh, in the whitest Of frocks
and hair curled in little damp rings, raj
up and down and prattled beside tn,
charmingly dressed, pretty mother, VIII,
sat with her embroidery In hand and VIII,
:. could not help feeling somewhat Of GLOW
: OF satisfaction through her sadness. Blu
5 after Harry had peeped out from the cur
! tains some twenty times to see If grand
7 mama was coming, and little Marjori
! had fallen down and raised large b,lm
on her forehead, and the O'clock trail
. had come In, there was a certain chang
In the situation. The cook sent up Wor,
should she put on the oysters. and Mrs
: Waring answered no, to wait until tn
1 next train, although that did not arriv
Z until o'clock. She pretended that he
i guests had missed the earlier train, blu
In her soul she felt the cold chill Of Ger
f itainty that they would not come.
4 AS she sat eating her luncheon after
ward in solitary state, and wishing tina
lShe knew any Of her neighbors well enous