Middletown transcript., 1909-03-20

7 ~ W@& AW4AA4 AAvg p%AS NAS
she was wont to sit beside him,
ia summer upon the porch. and
In this sort Of weather on the
other side OF the open CRATE
where the open chair stood nov.
The funeral had taken place that
afternoon, friends were kind,
very kind; old comrades had
pleaded with him to come to
their homes or to let one Of them
stay with him. But with gentle
resistance he had refused all
their well-meant compauionship,
and was according to his advice,
alone. What his plans fer the
future might be did not natter;
for tonight no one should intrude
upon his sacred communing.
1t had happened. Hardly did
he realize it yet, and, being
man of slow perception and de-
liberate action, be needed time
and solitude to adjust himself TO
changed circumstances.
Besides, he was not lonely, no
storm Of grief had as yet rent
his being. It may be that he
had not felt Alright. but true it
was that not even when they
brought her in from the street
dead had a tear rolled down his
cheek. Dead! Why should he
say that word? Why, there she
was in her chair on the other side
of the blazing logs; he could see
her knitting in the dusk and hear
her say, Yes, John, dear, think
it is time to make tea. Was not
that she now, moving about in
the next room, tinkling china?
The kettle was singing upon the
stove; was it not awaiting her,
toog Yes, and she was coming;
he could tell her step in million;
it was scarce heavier than forty
years ago. Forty years ago! The
half-bnrnt log gave sudden
lurch and he stopped to fix it.
Forty years ago! Why, that was
way back before the war-yes,
he remembered now. 1t was
when she wore that lilac
dimity, when her curls were
sunny brown. A mere slip of a
girl she was then, and slender
and fral always. And his daily
prayer had ever been that he
should be spared to protect her,
that Martha might never be left
alone.
Plants are different !; some
strong by themselves, other are
of a twinlng nature: yes, he had
prayed that Martha be never left
alone without him. That was Z
the way he had put the request;
but what the granting of it c
might mean to him, he had never
dared formulate And he never !
suspected that her secret suppl
cation was similar concern for '
him. J
Never overstrong for some !
time back Martha's heart had b
futtered like d frightened bird, g
too much and too frequently. 4
Still, only three days ago, in the b
afternoon, seemingly as well as s
ever, she had put on her little I
bonnet with the soft lavender a
bow and fur coat, preparatory to i
going down town. He had pro. s.
tested for it was bitter cold, and q
) wind was coming up. But
Martha was laughingly rebellious *
Ind would have her own sweet N
way, refusing even to let him II
accompany her. il
Why, I'm sixty years young, k
he exclaimed, with an echo Of D
he old youthful ring in her b
voice. Can't I 60 down street ty
lone and do a little shopping? in
And she kissed him and called OF
i'm a great followcat, and was is
II. He could see her now as she 10
rent through the doorway; he vi
nd watched her admiringly and W,
nxiously to the end of the street, af
here she stepped upon the car, IA
Why had he let her go? Why Ri
nd he not kept her with him Sc
lille he could? Perhaps it was ex
etter not-he would try to think gil
1-lest Martha should some day ha
9 left alone. And having seen ba
DE- take the car safely, he re-
lrned to his chair by the fire, lin
ordering what her little sur an,
rise was now. He had forgotten lit
let il was his birthday, and did che
it think Of it even now. It vas be
st until they brought her back we
rough The same doorway and ma
Id her upon the old horse.hair his
ia dead. Dead. Was Ii really Ge
/? Martha dead and he alone by mo
3 fire2 fer
He would not remember his tha
y + 4 I44l