The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1909-07-08
CALLED FOR IN PERSON.

Mrs. Thompson was the soul of happy
hospitality, shooting chickens, flaIplng
flies and talking to the cats as she
poured out coffee and handed fried po-
tatoes and meat and great soda biscuits.
Primus sat on the refrigerator, be-
tween two plates of freshly churned but
ter. and once great calf stuck it's head
in at the door.
81 don't think I can stand it nine
months" thought Elizabeth, as she drank
her coffee. Maybe I'll let him come for
me in two" Then she felt more cheer
full
''You can see the schoolhouse from the
first turn in the road" said Mrs. Thomp-
son at the gate, as she squinted her eyes
in the sunlight. cts hight beyond the
depot, and down the bayou a little ways
is the graveyard where Buddy is buried.
Well walk there some pretty evening"
:; Elizabeth squeezed her fat hands gent
ly. 1t was impossible not to like her, and
vet-how could the material part of her
stand it? She went along, needless OF
the morning sunlight on the fiat fields
where the cotton stalks were standing.
She did not feel that she could teach
school. She was no longer the capable,
we'll poised female that she had mag
ined herself to be. She was only a little
homesick girl, longing with all her heart
for the sight of big, clean man who
smelled of good cigars.
Then. suddenly she stopped short. In
front of her was a little red-roofed de.
pot. with some freight cars on a siding,
and telegraph and telephone wires ran
into it. She could, if she would, send a
message that minute-and he would
come In his new character-new and
delightful-she felt sure he would be
capable of anything. She need never
sleep on that feather bed or eat after
Primus. Neither need she starve or die
of insomnia. Almost before she realized
it she was startling the young agent
with a vision of youth and beauty seldom
seen there. Then her voice failed her,
and she seemed to wait interminable
minutes until he came into his office
and his voice travelled over a hundred
miles of sunlight space and reached her
happy ear. ia
at is To- she said, at her end of the
wire, and the young man in the office
listened eagerly as he wrote meaningless
things with stub pen. "Yes
No, not i'll, but so horribly lonesome,
and the cats fight all night and I miss
you Yes--I read it. [ found
it last night = y = No, not angry.
Il = IS No, no! y. But I wish I
had read it-or you had said it-before
1 bought my ticket
Then, needless of the agents surprise,
she laid down quarter and fled from
the office, with flame-colored cheeks.
Elizabeth could never remember after
ward, when she tried to recall the details
of that one day of her vocation, how
she found the schoolhouse or got through
the morning. In after years it was al
ways vague dream of dingy, ink
spattered room filled with girls and boys
all amazingly freckled. At IL o'clock
she sent them home, and, still in happy
dream, she went to Mrs. Thompson's and
sat down to soup and turnips and dried
apple pie, unruff1ed even by the sight of
Primus, which sat in the window washing
red tomato soup from his whiskers.
''I'm not going back to school," she
said, with a flush on her happy little
face. "Pye classed them and Pm going
for long walk
She put on soft, lace trimmed white
dress that made her look like big baby,
and hat trimmed with pink roses, and
strolled past the depot again and down
the old bayou by whose banks the dead
were laid away. 1t was quiet, peaceful
spot. Masses of honeysuckle and golden
rod hid the sunken graves. No new
mound struck note of pain. The sad
ness was gone, and only the peace of
death remained. A little farther on she
found Mrs. Thompson's little freckled
boy, who had been buried in his "first
long pants There was marble slab
with his name and age, and 1--WE Shall
Meet in the Sweet By-and- BY"
Elizabeth looked at it with misty eyes.
Il hope they WILL she thought, "and
that he will be just a little freckled-
faced boy"
Already she seemed to have learned
something of the everlasting Joy and the
everlasting sorrow of wifehood and
motherhood, and so she dreamed on un-
til the shrill whistle of the evening train
broke the silence.
1T is too soon to expect even a let
ter" she told herself; but with a move
ment like flower when it trembles on
its stem she arose and with quick, happy
little feet and a rose-fiush ON her face,
she went down the grassy path