The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1910-01-20
The EVENING STORY
The Right Thing.
(By Joanna single.)

he was supposed to keep the force har-
moniously It work. He was tired and
a little disheartened. He wondered, be-
ing already at his limit of expense Tor
a delicate wife and four robust children,
how he was going to send Katherine
aged fourteen, to the expensive private
school Mary had decided was the right
| thing and which she had awakened
him in the night to discuss He had
not opposed her-he never did. What
| was the use? And probably she was
right. She herself had been to pri-
vate school; was just out of it when he
had married her.
| When the office work was running
smoothly and he was going over the
plans for the Parsons mansion his mind
| still ran on the private school. And,
/ for the first time, it came over him that
| he was approaching middle age and
was on salary, generous enough, but
which was not like being in business
for himself. Once, ten years ago. he
had turned down such a chance for q
partnership. He could run no risk of
not succeeding. There was his family.
| On the New Years eve when he mar
| ried his girl-wife he made to himself
| the sincere vow to do always the right
| thing by her. He kept the vow, and he
renewed it yearly and at the birth of
/ each child. Because of this he belonged
to no clubs, did not smoke, denied him
self any friendship that would cost
| money, for otherwise he could not
| have carried heavy life insurance with
| out restricting household expense. He
wondered If other men had this limp,
! gray. grimly respondent feeling tol
| night? He tried to shut his mind to it.
But the private school required. 1t
would eat into the money he had been
putting aside for capital IL ever he saw
| chance to get into business for HIM
self. He had said nothing about this
fund, but it had meant self-denial. He
supposed, however. that the grades she
| had just finished were enough of the
public schools for his super-refined lit
| tie daughter. his pride, and the chief
pawn in Mary's carefully planned So
cial game. But he worked on with that
! steady reliability that evenness that
held him in his place when logically a
/ younger and more brilliant man would
| long ago have replaced him Sometimes
he had an uneasy feeling that the firm
would be glad if he gave them a good
reason to let him go.
He thought now OF Sorter, a little
younger than he. of "Sorter and Sorter'
/ across the hall in the big office build
| ing. He liked this go-ahead young fell
| low. his zeal and ability, his self-con-
| fidence. He had longed to accept his
proffered friendship. but he could not
afford it. He could not afford to lunch
where Sorter did, to belong to his clubs,
| to share his amusements.
| When noon came Hart dismissed the
working force-it was to be a half
holiday, but with the force OF habit he
continued going over the Parsons
plans Young Doty had made a mis-
take here-another there. His quick,
practiced, conscientious eye missed
| nothing.
1t must have been one o'clock when
| Sorter himself put his head in at the
door. saw Hart and, coming over be-
| hind him, took hold of his fine but
rather bent shoulders and straighten-
| ed him back.
You're coming out to Luncheon
me, and / won't be refused-again.
You always turn me down, Hart, but
I believe on my soul you've nothing
against mel I want to see you-come
along!" Hart, hesitating a moment,
made ready.
IF your wife expects you this after
noon, you can phone her you are not
coming; want you for the matinee
and for something else, too,'' contin-
ued Sorter.
Despite himself, Hart cbeyed-in-
deed he was willing to be amused
! he wanted to forget the private school
and some proposed alterations in the
house, and a dress suit for Don, who
thought he needed one. and who
thought himself q candidate for COL
lege.
The two men had a substantial
lunch at good place, and then went
to Sorter's club. where they played
billiards. and finally sat together in
the library. They talked, Sorter
leading where he wished, and Hart
had a queer feeling that this man, al
belt in a friendly way. was Sizing
him up" but he always had seemed
to do that.
i The play to which they went was
a light thing enough, modern to a
| degree, still it bore it's lesson, and
was a fruitful theme for comment
lightly and continually made by the
= 10
can story of the overburdened man,
the overindulged family living a little
beyond its means.
THAT fellow is paying for the sin
of not doing right by himself" Sorter
remarked. ITS a common mistake.
No man who pfnches and deprives
himself can grow. AS he gets older,
he gets afraid to take the initiative,
to risk, because his caution for his
family hampers him. In the end it is
even worse for his family than for
, himself"
Hart nodded. and finished slowly.
. but from his heart. ''And finds him
losing ground, falling behind, while
his children-and his wife. Keep up
: to things. Pretty soon he begins to
; feel like an alien in his own house
, he has no time to keep abreast of
/ anything outside save his business,
. and when he gets home he's SO tired
that he can attend to nothing but the
bothers.''
u "Dodson." continued young Sorter.
'is case in point. Bent. a back num-
! Der. simply purse constantly empty
: ing itself into the hands of a family
: which he himself has spoiled into a
I selfishness they will some day have to
r suffer their way out Of! His daughters
t Il are in expensive private schools, his
' son is white-handed hanger-on of
society girls. His wife absorbed in
bridge and her neighbors' clothes It's
a rnistake--a man has to launch out
2 to the limit of his capacity, and let
? his family take with him any reason
, able risks. My wife pushes ne-never