The San Francisco call., 1904-12-18

papa
Tom passed his hand over her f1axen
hair.
Sleep quietly, darling he said. For
quiet and peace were possible now.
There had been no expectation that
Tom would be home to dinner; and
though Suzette assured him that some
thing could easily be prepared (and
that homely sort of attention was new
and pleasant to Tom), he accepted
John Fanshaw's invitation to take pot
luck with him. They walked off to-
gether. rather silent, each full of his
own thoughts. They did not speak un-
til they had almost reached Johns
door.
s"That's the sort of sight that makes
a man wish he had children" said John
slowly.
i've often wished 1 had none. Poor
Harriet
But you're glad of them now?''
''Why, I've nothing else, 1t just
makes the difference to life" He
paused a moment, and then broke out:
And they've nothing but love for me-
Not word, not a thought of reproach.
Just because I've never been cruel TO
them. whatever else I've been! Poor
little beggars. We can't keep like that
when we grow up. We're too fond of
our grievances, .eh?"
John looked at him for a moment.
but said nothing. They went into the
house in renewed silence. It seemed
very large. empty and dreary.
Your wife not back yet! l heard
she was staying with the Imasons.
She's there still. / don't know
when she's coming back"
Rather dull for you. isn't it? You
know you always depended on her
lott
John made no answer, but led the
inf Liz u cav ~
evening paper, and began to open his
letters. But his thoughts were not on
the letters. They were occupied with
what he had seen that afternoon ana
with the words which had fallen from
Tom Courtlands lips. The children
forgave with that fine free forgiveness
which will not even recognize the need
for itself or the existence of any fault
toward which it should be exercised.
1t is there that forgiveness rises to and
is merged in love. But when people
grow up, Tom had said, they are too
fond OF their grievances John had
been very fond of his grievance. 1t
was a fine large one-abOut the
largest any man could have; every
body must admit that; and John had
declined to belittle it or to shear OFF
an inch of its imposing stature. All
it demanded he had given. But had
he? What about Frank CayleSham's
something which he had refused? But
he had given all it asked so far as the
sinner who had caused it was con-
cerned. Against her he had nursed
and cosseted it; for its sake he had
made his home desolate and starved
his heart. Aye, he had always de-
pended on Christinei Tom was
right. But because of his grievance
he had put her from him. He was
fond of his grievance indeed If Toms
children had been old enough to
recognize the true value and pre-
ciousness of a big grievance, they
would never have received Tom as
they had that afternoon; they would
have made him feel what he had been
guilty of. He would have been made
to feel it handsomely before he was
forgiven. Children were different, as
Tom Courtland said.
John got up and poked the fire
The house is beastly coId," he
grumbled.
''Ah. it wouldn't be if Mrs. John
was at home!" laughed Tom. she
always looks after the fire, doesn't
she ?"
John Fanshaw bitterly envied him
his peace and happiness. He forgot
how hardly they had been achieved.
The vision of the afternoon was be-
fore his eyes, and he declared that
fate was too kind to Tom. A heavy
dullneSs was over his face. and a
forlorn puzzled look in his eyes. He
must have done right he must be
doing right. How could a self-re-
specting man do otherwise? And yet
he was so desOlate, so starved of hu-
man love, in the end so full of long
ing for Christine-for her gracious
presence and her dainty little ways.
With an effort he recollected his
= y -
began to read his letters. Tom was
still occupied with his paper and his
cigar; but he looked up at the sound
of an "Ah" which escaped from
Johns lips. John had come on a let
ter which set his thoughts going
again-a letter from Sibylla. She up
braided him playfully for not having
come down to see them and Christine
I'm sure Christine must be hurt
with you, though she's much too
proud to say so. We want to keep
her over Christmas. Will you come
as soon as you can and stay over
Christmas and as long as possible?
I've not told her I'm asking you, so
that she mayn't be disappointed if you
can't come"
There was diplomacy in ST.
bylla's letter. since she knew
the state of the case far
better than her references to Chris
tine lDlpleO.
But John was not aware of this. His
attention was fixed only on the invita-
tion and on the circumstances in
which it came. He could not go to
Milldean and take his grievance with
him; it was too big and obstrusive for
other peoples houses-it could -four
ish properly only in a domestic tete-a-
tete. So he must stay at home. He
sighed as he laid down the letter
Then his fingers wandered irresolutelv
to it again as he looked across at Tom
Courtland, who had now ceased read
ing and was smoking with a quiet
smile on his face.
Anything up, old fellow?" asked
Tom. noting the gravity of his express
sion.
mo. It's only from Mrs. Imason,
asking me to go down there at Christ
mas"
You go,'' counseled Tom. Better
than bringing your wife back here"
There was a third course@the
course favored by the grievance. John
did not speak of it, but it was present
in his thoughts. He shook his head
impatiently and began to talk of gen.
o11 he