The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1909-05-20

bring 1t. Tell you what, Mag. I'll bet
you the ice cream he brings ii to-
| night"
Mrs. Fink was thinking deeply.
my Mart" she said, never hit me
a lick in his life. It's just like you
said. Name; he in grouchy and
Amt got Il word to say. He never
takes me out anywhere. He's a chair
warmer at home for fair. He buys me
things, but he looks 50 glum about it
that never appreciate en-
Mrs. Cassidy slipped an arm around
her chum.
You poor thing" she said. But ev-
erybody can't have a husband like
Jack. Marriage wouldn't be no failure
if they was all like him. These dis
contented wives you hear ~about-what
they need is a man to come home and
kick their Stats in once a week and
then make it up in kisses and chocolate
creams. That'd give 'em some interest
in life. What | want is a masterful
man that slugs you when he's Jagged
and hugs you when he amt jagged.
Preserve me from the man that amt
got the sand to do neither
Mrs. Fink sighed.
The Railways were suddenly filled
with sound. The door flew open at the
kick Of Mr.. Cassidy. His arms were
occupied with bundles. Name flew
and hung about his neck. Her sound
eye sparkled with the love light that
shines in the eye Of the Maori maid
when she covers consciousness in the
hut Of the wooer who has stunned and
dragged her there.
"Hello, old girl" shouted Mr.. Cas-
sidy. He shed his bundles and lifted
her off her feet in n mighty hug. 81
got tickets for Barnum & Bailey's, and
If you'll bust the string Of one Of them
bundles / guess you'll find that silk
waist. Why, good evening, Mrs. Fink!
Mart coming along?"
Hes very we'll, Mr.. Cassidy, thanks"
said Mrs. Fink. II must be going
along up now. Mart II be home for
supper soon. I'll bring you down that
pattern you wanted tomorrow, Name"
Mrs. Fink went up to her fiat and
had q little cry. 1t was a meaningless
cry, the kind Of cry that only a woman
knows about, n cry from no particular
cause, altogether an absurd cry-the
most transient and the most hopeless
cry in the repertory Of grief. Why had
Martin never thrashed her? He was
as big and strong as Jack Cassidy.
Did he not care for her at all? He
never quarreled. He came home and
lounged about. silent, glum, idle. He
was a fairly good provider, but he ig-
nored the spices Of life.
Mrs. Fink's ship Of dreams was be-
Gained. Her captain ranged between
| plum duff and his hammock. If only
he would shiver his timbers or stamp
his foot OF the quarter deck now and
then. And she had thought TO sail so
merrily, touching at ports In the De-
lectable isles, but now, to vary the
figure, she was ready to throw up the
| sponge, tired out. without n scratch
to show for all those tame rounds with
her sparring partner. For ono moment
she almost hated ~Mame-Mame, with
her cuts and bruises, her salve OF
presents and kisses. her stormy voy-
age with her fighting. brutal. loving
mate.
Mr.. Fink came home at Z. He was
permeated with the curse Of domes-
ITCHY. Beyond the portals Of his coy
home he cared not to roam. 10 roam.
He was the man who had caught the
| street car, the anaconda that had swal-
lowed It's prey. the tree that lay as 1t
had fallen.
Like the supper. Mart?" asked Mrs.