The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1903-10-22
Woman Work

Faded enough now, though she
was barely twenty-seyen. You would
: hardly have believed how fresh and
pretty Carry Carver had been on
her wedding day. Her husband saw
the change, but somehow he sup
posed all women faded just so.
"There is so much to do, Peter,
and the children demand so much
of my time" pleaded the meek wife.
<'If | were manager in this house
, hold things would happen very diff
ferently."
81 have no doubt of it," said Car
~ quietly.
"There is no earthly reason" went
on Mr.. Carver, ignoring the sarcas-
tic meaning of her tone, "why the
work shouldn't be done and you
dressed and enjoying yourself, Guilt
waiting your mind or something, at
II o'clock every morning that you
live. Washing up few dishes,
sweeping a room or two, what does
it all amount to? Why, my dear,
don't you see the folly of asking Cor
a servant to help you do nothing at
all?
The morning sunshine crept
down the pale green wall paper,
sprinkling drops Of gold on the few
little geranium plants that Peter
called "waste of time" and lay in
noon splendors on the carpet, and
still Carry Carver stood there,
thinking-thinking.
Garry! Aren't you going to get
up this morning? 1t is half past Z,
and"-
81 cannot, Peter" groaned Garry,
turning her face away from the
light. 'I am suffering such dreadful
pains in that foot l sprained last
night
'Well, what shall I do?"
"You must take charge of the
housekeeping yourself, Peter" said
Carry, hiding in the folds of her
pillow. '1t's only for a day or two,
and I don't know of any help you
can obtain. 1t won't be much, you
know"
'That's true" said Peter, some
what encouraged.
"Please darken the room, and
keep the children away, and don't
speak to me if you can help it. l
have such a racking headache, and
the least excitement drives me
wild"
Peter shut the door with distract
ing caution and went downstairs on
creaking tiptoe. AS he passed the
nursery door a duet of voices chimed
on his ears.
Papa, papa, we are not dressed"
'Dress yourselves, then, can't
you?' said Mr.. Carver, pausing.
"Pet is too little to dress herself"
said Tommy loftily, "and mamma
always dressed me"
"Where are your shoes? %
"I don't know" said Tommy,
with his finger in his mouth.
81 know" said Pet, aptly reveng-
ing herself for the hit at her di-
minutive proportions. "Tommy
dropped them out of the window"
Crash! went fancy bottle of CO.
logne off the table as Tommy
CROPPED for his carriers. Bang! fell
Mrs. Carver's rosewood writing desk
to the floor, bursting off the frail
hinges and scattering pens, envel-
opes and postage stamps far and
wide.
Mr. Peter Carver was an affec-
tionate father in a general way, but
human nature could not have en-
dured this.
And be bundled the two little
creatures miscellaneously into what
ever articles came uppermost, rend-
ing off strings and fracturing but
tonholes in frantic desperation.
The fire obstinately declined to
burn, although Mr. Carver opened
the oven doors alternately and drew
out all the hampers he could spy.
"Confound the frep' said Mr..
Carver, hopping his wet forehead
with the stove cloth. ct won't go.
I'll have blaze of kindling and try
the breakfast on that"
He seized the ham and carved
several thick slices, which he trans
ferred deftly to a gridiron and then,
elated with his success, broke sew
eral eggs over the ham.
"Bless me, how they runp' he
calculated, rather puzzled. "But l
know Pm right. ] wonder why this
coffee doesn't boil. I'll stick in a
few more kindlings-that's the idea.
There are the children crying
w hungry, l suppose. | do believe
they do nothing but eat and cry"
MIR. Carver rushed to attend the
peremptory summons Of the milk