Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1903-11-20
AGATHA CLA|R'S Thanksgiving
BY HOPE DARING.


CO WO weeks from tomorrow Il
Thanksgiving. Let US 60 to Orley
- to spend it." $50 to Orleyl Why,
Agatha, you must be crazyr Agatha
Clair pushed back her unfinished cup of
coffee, a decided frown on her smooth
white forehead. Indeed, Eugene" there
was note Of irritation in her voice, 81
fail to see why a woman should be pro-
nounced crazy because she expresses a
desire to visit her home, after an abb
sence Of year and half" "Homep'
he echoed the word little reproachfully,
his eyes wandering around the neat din
Ing room. This is home, Agatha. The
FIRST real one we have either Of us had
for years."
The color deepened on the wife's
cheeks. Her husbands words were true,
her girlhood's home, with an uncle in a
distant city, had not been a happy one.
This uncle had been too proud to let his
sisters child earn her bread, and as there
had been more pride than love or money
In the home Agatha had realized the
bitterness of the bread of dependence.
The cozy farmhouse, shared with the
quiet man who had won her love, had
seemed a haven Of peace. Used all her
life to the hustle of city and to a home
crowded with gay young life, Agatha be-
gan, after time, to long for change.
Just now letter from her cousins, tell
ing of concerts, lectures and parties,
made the uneventful winter stretching
before her look very dreary.
She sat toying with her spoon until
her husband had finished his breakfast.
Then she looked up, a coaxing light in
her soft gray eyes.
"Why can't we so, Eugene?"
Cant afford it." he replied a little
ungraciously, for her persistence annoyed
him. Besides the railroad fare, there'd
DO lot Of new clothes wanted and"
"Clothesp Agatha was angry now.
Really, | didn't suppose you knew that
woman ever had to have clothes. I've
seen nothing since l was your wife to
chow any such knowledge on your part.
I'm tired of this scrimping and saving
and stagnating."
There was pause. Husband and
wife confronted each other, both with
flushed faces and hurried breath.
And Tn" he began holly. Then.
moved by some memory he stopped. A
moment later he cried out, ooh, Agatha,
never dreamed that you felt that wayl
1t cost so much for Us to start and the |
crops have been poor. thought you un-
derstood," and breaking of abruptly, he |
strobe out through the kitchen on his |
way to the barn.
As the heroine Of nineteenth century
story, Agatha should have sat down and |
burst into tears. But there was little of |
the heroic about her. She was only an
ordinary woman whose temper was
aroused, although not to such an extent
that she could entirely forget the unusual
chord of pain in her husbands voice.
However, she went about her work set
ting down her pretty china with an un-
necessary amount of energy and saying
to herself, II think It downright mean
In Eugene. | wonder how l shall ever
endure this long, lonesome winter. No
place to go and no one to see." The mat.
ter was not referred to again. But there
was a cloud between husband and wife
the first since their wedding day.
The third day after the scene at the
breakfast table a neighbor, Mrs. Ferris.
called and asked Agatha to accompany
her to a meeting Of the Sewing Society.
The young wife eagerly accepted the in
Eitation 1t would enable her to forget,
Tor little time at least.
Agatha went rapidly about her toilet.
Her guest was stated In the dining room.
md by leaving the door open conversa-
ION could be carried on during the hair
'rushing and the dress changing.
Where are you going to spend
rhanksglvingT Mrs. Ferris asked.
While she studied the arrangement of the
'iolet-strewn silkolene drape on the shelf
lear her, secretly wondering If she could
lot Initiate It.
Thanksgiving" Agatha repeated with