Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1903-11-25
A THANKSGIVING AFFAIR
BY LOU ELLEN TETERS.

BY LOU ELLEN TETERS
Another cup of tea. Jennie?" asked
the hostess, from the daintiIy appointed
| table in the corner where a vase of nod
ding La France roses made pretty YER
nal background for her brown head. Out
through the window one could see the
dull perspectives of the park, where
gaunt avenues OF trees stretched iii
bleak. leatlesS outline. Jenne ForShay
turned quickly to the radiant room,
aroused by the musical tinkle Of 4 silver
spoon against SevreS cup.
drown your SORROWS, cried her host
ess. Come. the idols you nave loved So
long have done your credit in mems eyes
much wrong so drown your SORROWS in
shallow cup, and sell your reputation
| for popular song with apologies to
Omar. What's the matter? Was your
soup ruined last night, or did your dress
maker forget to put two darts in the
waist of your new silk dresS?"
"Jenne's conscience is prickling her,
put in Mary Goodson from an easy chair.
above the back of which her hat showed
like d demure flower garden with its
mass of pale blue roses. She has no
doubt just refused another man and
stepped heavily on his heart
''I-?' Miss Forshay retorted "My
dear, you flatter me. | am not honored
y -
full animals. | have always preferred
them to cats; cats are real Injuries
they eat SO much cream"
''And-men?" Nora Tracy, her hostess,
asked quizzical.y.
Well said Jenne. ''tle genus homo
is more tractable, and there's such an
endless list of them. Cats are not so
extensive Of course, they do make you
feel good. they purr so delightfully."- If you
just give them bit of meat-but | like
men better-for pets
Poor Jenne," sighed Mary Goodson.
Another lump of sugar, DEAR Nora
inquired.
No, I'm in a horrid mood, beyond any
sWeetening. I've been staring markedly
at my past all day long, trying to put
some patches on some old grefs SO [ can
manage to stagger through another year
Of it, and placing brand new monuments
over some old graves-where the head
stones tumbled down. [ always forgot
to water these graves in my heart /
remembered this morning one that | had
intended keeping green, with bunch of
immOrtelles on it. | haven't even the
privileges of a widow to mourn for them
| must go on wearing blue and red and
keeping a smile on my lips. But my
mirth is no deeper than the lips. | am
really, truly lonely-beyond the aid of
cats even"
''Or men, one of the girls suggested
No; that's just it. Girls. do you
know, I'm getting awfully tired Of havinf,
such poor company as myself. When [
look in the glass and see my own face it
it. I'm tired of being alone We are all
over 80, so l can talk plainly. You
know how dreary life at my boarding
house is, where, like convicts without the
stripes, a solemn procession of us face
each other three times day in lu-
gubrious awe and politely try to ignore
the many masquerades of the Sunday
turkey. Then afterward, like a helpless
piece of cork in a tub, we drift into the
parlor, where there is an album contain
ing picture of the landady's husband,
who was pOliceman-and an easel with
the Thing enlarged on it. 1 always feel
as it were going to be arrested / do
respect the law, but my flesh is tortured
by a remembrance of all of my sins of
commission at the sight of such remind
ers."
II hope you haven't stolen anything.
JENNIE" they laughed at her.
And there's a lady there whose hus-
where she buys her undertaking in a
breathless whisper during dessert. I'm
consciously | have grown accustomed to
associating rice pudding with lingerie,
and stockings with pumpkin pie. You
see the state of my nerves. Then there's
shop girl there, from the mouse-trap
department Of a large store, whose
grandfather came over in the Bellfower,
and who thinks George Eliot was the
'grandest man that ever lived
haven't the heart to undeceive her; illu-
SlOnS these days are SO rare, and | can't
make UP my mind to bring an iconoclast.
Really my existence is simply resolved
into soup-and a discussion of the wealth
er and probability of hoop skirts this
FIR. NOT FOO md IL T
waists buttoned in the back, and do l
pronounce the Il in neither; salad-inter-
spersed with aphorisms on making mo1l-
choir cases, and do / think mustache
cups are not nice gifts for young men
or would pale blue suspenders, embroid-
cred in forget-me-nots, be more proper
dessert-well. [ am in a hopeless tanglc
of knotty questions by that time, and in
a collapsed state listen to rhapsodies on
Nalenciennes lace by bolt, beading, and
how many you can buy for So. And
Thanksgiving next week. Ugh!" She
ended with a tragic wave Of her hand
as if she We're protesting against some
displeasing picture.
We'll, how can you cure it?' asked
Mary Goodson as. she slipped her tea.
Your lot isn't any worse than mine.
Five mornings a week behold me in !,
shabby blue flannel waist hearing the
conjugation of French verbs. | even
hate the sound of 'Je vos aIme-je vos
adore, que voulezvous de plus If a man
even should say it to me now / GER
tainly believe / should redress the af-
front ut police court
And l" said Nora, paint such i'm
possible daubs for uneducated people
who don't know any better than to buy
them-and thus encourage my vice.
am the only one that knows what big
humbug | am. And what is Thanksgiv-
ing to me. Simply an arrangement, Il
happy compromise of the governor and
the calendar-and mocking memory OF
other days Of thanks when I used to be
thankful"
Its your own fault Jenne inter
rupted. you should have married, then
all of your pictures would have been
living ones. Think Of the paint you
would have saved