The Virginia enterprise. [volume] (Virginia, St. Louis County, Minn.) 1893-19??, 1912-02-16
DRESSING UP
By ELIZABETH ARMSTRONG
Copyright. 1911. BY Associated Literary Press>

Copyright. 1911. BY Al
A rainy day in early summer sent
Jim Bomar's motherless girls to the
attic to rummage in the capacious
chests for old-fashioned dresses. In
great glee.
"Oh, but aren't we f1ne?" cried
Mamie. Lets go down and show
father"
Father might make us take EN-
OF" rejoined practical Grace; hes
feeling sad anyway"
Il 'spose the house bothers him
cause it's so kind of mussy since
Mrs. Mott left. but l tried to scrub
that kitchen just last Saturday. and
father washes the dishes himself
whenever we leave 'em long enough"
And Mamie sighed over house
keepers trials.
Poor Jim Bomar was used to cold
meals and general lack Of cheer.
Even before his wife's death. the
house had borne a down-at-the-heels
aspect, and Jim had been wont to
escape to the harness room in the
barn. where he could find order and
peace.
AS refuge the harness room was
exceptional. Besides being clean, 1t
was warmed in winter by a small
wood stove. and made airy in sum-
mer by two enormous windows. The
west window had the advantage of
which they arrayed themselves with
looking toward the homestead where
Mary Andrews had lived alone since
the death Of her mother. Mary's
younger sister Jennie was Jim's wife.
He had never understood just how it
happened that she had supplanted
Mary, If not in his heart, still to all
intents and purposes in his life. He
and Mary had been sweethearts for
years. and at last he had written
asking her to tell him where he
might see her for most particular
talk. He knew that Mary would un-
derstand. and he had laughed, when
he gave her the note, at his little
subterfuge, when he might 80 easily
have told Mary he loved her then
and there. But Mary craved TO-
nance, and Jim was doing his hum
Bile best in arranging this dark plot
for her entertainment.
Mary ran up the steps. with his
note in her hand. waved her hand at
him in good-by-and he had not seen
her again In months. She did not
answer the note. and gave Jim no
chance to ask an explanation Of her
strange conduct. Deeply hurt, he
learned the next day that she had
gone for long visit to her aunt In
the city.
Jim took his dismissal hard, and
Jennie was full Of sympathy when he
came. night after night. for news of
Mary She did not tell him outright,
but limited delicately that Mary had
been counting only in fun and had
taken this way Of letting him down
easy. And after a time Jennie's
sweetness won Jim to believe that
her heart was pure gold, and it was
his fault If he could not appreciate
her as he should. So on the night
she told him that Mary was to we'd
man in the city whom she had
known for several years. Jim asked
Jennie II she would care for what
was left of his life. and Jennie ad-
mitted that she would.
Mary did not return for Jennie's
wedding, nor did she make any prep
arations for her own; and when she
had lived quietly with her mother
for number of months doubts as
sailed Jim concerning the truth OF
his wifes story Of her engagement
During the ten years of Jim's mar
ried life Mary went in and out of his
home and his children took their
griefs to her more readily than to
their mother But Jim had seldom
seen her, and for several years he
had not crossed the threshold Of the
Andrews home.
AS he looked over the fields green
with sprouting grain and saw the ap-
pie orchard at the homestead in
bloom, he imagined that he could
see Mary herself walking among the
trees in the sun that had just come
out and was coaxing the earth to
bloom and laughter. He knew
that her brown head would be barred
in the breeze and her eyes filed with
a love for all growing and blooming
things. He recalled the last time he
had walked along the orchard path,
when, after Mother Andrews's death.
he had gone to Mary in an impulse
of sympathy, but had unfortunately
managed to convey some expression
of his long repressed love- Then did
Mary's brown eyes flash and her
gentle mouth stiffen to rebuke.
Jim Bomar. never let me hear
such words from you. There can be
nothing between you and me after
what has passed. And l cannot bear
the sight of your deceitful face"
Jim, sorely wounded, was reused
to reply in anger. VERY we'll. Nary.
will never enter your door until
you send for me"
While Jim was dreaming In the