Morris tribune., 1911-08-18

| more thoroughly cleaned than IL ever
had been under his practiced hand,
and in addition a fresh coat of white
7 wash dazzled his eyes. Several busy
hens poked impatient heads at him
from nest boxes filled with fresh hay.
| "Humph!" muttered Mr.. Shafter, and
carried the tools into the shed. Once
more he sought his wife "Helen, you
didn't clean that chicken house? he
| demanded authoritatively.
"No, 1 didn't" returned Mrs. Shat
ter, shelling peas on the side piazza
Aunt Electa is responsible for that"
"Aunt Electaw shouted the Mortified
husband. "Why-why-that's no sort
of work for an elderly LADY,
"Who calls me an elderly lady""
demanded Aunt Electa from the door
way.
"But, Aunt Electa, that chicken
| house is not the sort Of work.
"Go to, James," interrupted the good
lady smiling; "stop arguing and enjoy
your holiday"
"Holidayv snorted James from force
of habit, and then, with sudden recol-
lection of how his work was dwin-
lar to vent his discontinue in slapping
whitewash on its stone walls. But
once more was he foiled-again he was
dazzled, for the work was done. He
opened the door and peered into the
coal bin in the desperate hope that
the-coal man had neglected to come,
snd he almost whooped with joy when
he saw that his hope was fulfilled.
He was Gathering in the seclusion of
that blackened, stone walled room
when he heard the shrek of the speak
ing tube in the outer cellar.
He answered it.
James," said his wife's voice, and
there was a tremor in its evenness-
he wondered If she was laughing
"James, dear, just to make sure tele
phoned the coal Office and as it is
holiday they will not deliver until to-
morrow. l can see about it when it
comes. Now, do clean yourself up and
try and enjoy your holiday, that's a
dearr'
The dear" choked helplessly. "Did
Aunt Electa do the cellar?" he asked
weakly.
Both Of us-we did it last night aft
er you went to bed. 1t was fun for
us. You know we get tired Of our
monotonous tasks. Please, James,
aren't you going to come upstairs. 1t
will soon be dinner time"
The newspaper lasted until dinner
time and after dinner was hiatus to
be filed in some manner. James Shat
ter was man Of activity. He must
be doing something every moment and
however he might fume and sputter
over his self imposed tasks, he took
certain enjoyment in them. Now, his
occupation gone, he wandered aimless
ly around the house and grounds, sat
awhile with his wife and aunt on the
piazza and then strolled down the road
for solitary walk.
A wooded lane led him in a new di-
rection, and presently he found him
self leaning over an old picket fence,
surveying rood grown VegetaDle gar
den with disappearing eyes, A voice
startled him, and he had glanced over
the shabby little old fashioned house
before he saw the open window in
which sat a man of his own age with
a gaunt, haggard face and sunken, pa
tient eyes.
II said it was pretty day." re-
peated the man in the window.
"Yes," returned Shafter cordially;
tits hot, but mighty pleasant. You've
got nice little place here"
''1t was nice before l got cut up in
the railroad wreck. l planted that
garden, sir, and now | can't keep the
weeds out of it. My daughters got
the ambition to do it, but she's young
and frail, and there's plenty for her
to do waiting on sick man and TAX
ing in work from the mill to support !
me-" He spoke bitterly, and it was
plain to be seen that he resented his |
inability to work "It's Labor day, i
sir, and it seems as if I would give
most anything to get in line with the !
boys and march, but not for mev' !
He held up the stump of an arm, |
and in response to Shafter's inquiry i
said he had lost foot also. He was
too poor to emplo7 a lawyer to take !
his case against thc railroad !
where's your garden tools?' de-
manded Shafter, entering the gate. |
And five minutes later he was stripped !
Of coat and vest and working in the !
garden with hoe and rake. The sick !
man talked to him from the window, |
and his gratitude to the stranger was |
pitiful. When the garden stood forth |
Weedless, with straight brown earth !
ridges crowned with green and the
corn rustled in the breeze that came |
up from the south, James Shafter
Strengthened his bent back and mop
ped his dripping face.
''God bless you, sir! muttered the
man awkwardly as his benefactor pre- |
pared to 60 "It isn't every gentle |