The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1914-01-24
ALL The TIME THERE IS

| Tell through the tender leaves or the
grape-arbor. The little tendrils had
] begun to show their hyacinthian
curves. Arthur Bowen took the cup
of tea his wife offered him, and looked
through the long arbor to the road. A
little girl, very poorly dressed, was
passing down the road.
Mrs. Bowen replaced her cup and
saucer on the Sheffield tray, and fol-
lowed the child with her eyes. The
husband finished his cup of tea. He
was thirsty; he and his wife had
walked from Vespers in the Church at
Seagirt
"Ah, my DEAR" he said, this is
comfort! No visitors expected, a
lovely afternoon, and that bad, bold
baby boy of ours sound asleep and
quiet!"
For shame!" said Mrs. Bowen,
rather unattentively. HE is an angel
even when he is naughty. That was
little Clara Fallon. Did you notice
how poorly she was dressed?"
"Rather!" said her husband, TAX
ing another piece of toast. Il fancy
she feels it, too. I see that she al
ways takes the last pew in church;
and noticed that, after Mass, she ran
off as quickly as possible"
tits too bad!" burst out Mrs.
Bowen, her brown eyes flashing. If
I were John Wilson, with fifteen thou
sand a year, I'd learn something of
the lives of these decent poor folk
around us, and help them. But there
he is with a new automobile every
year. I'm sure, Arthur, that if you
had fifteen thousand instead of two,
( if you could go up to the Office every
day in a white Mercedes instead of
going in a cramped car seat as com
muter,' you'd do something for the
people about us. Rich people are
heartless. What a callous old bach
elor John Wilson is! And yet there
he is every Sunday, in the first pew.
praying away, at the 9 o'clock Mass
and then rushing off somewhere in
his white devil. He is heartless!"
"No, MOI" answered Arthur Bowen
nibbling at cake. "He doesn't think
because he hasn't time"
Hasn't time!" exclaimed his wife
incredulously. Hasn't time! he has
all the time there is Sara Fallon
the elder sister, goes only to the
o'clock Mass now; her hat and old
mourning dress are dreadful. Since
her father died, she does plain sewing
wherever she can get it. She did all
baby's things; when she finished his
last little frock, noticed that her hat
was awful. There are some beautiful
spring straws,' 1 said, at Prices fol-
only Is cents You don't know she
answered, with that soft glow in he1
face that makes her at times a very
pretty girl, how hard it is for some
of us to earn Is cents She keeps
Clara at school and pays off the in
terest on their house. Of course she
can't afford to buy new clothes. Oh
these heartless rich people!"
"They haven't time," repeated he1
husband, seriously. 1--WE haven't
time"
Certainly we haven't time.
haven't time. I'd help the Fallons i
| could. l often think that I'll senG
Brigetta over the Fallons to buy some
of their early egetables-Clara ha:
actually raised some lettuce an(
things under glass-but she's too busy
With one maid, it's really hard!" add
ed Mrs Bowen, with sigh. 81 mus
finish those napkins-I must EN-
broider ten initials; and then I've go
to make a hundred little sandwiches
for the Sodality supper for Tuesday
each tied with light blue ribbon t.
match the candle shades"
How tired you will be, my dear!
said Arthur, with twinkle in hi
+ eyes. Think of sandwiches withou
blue ribbons to match the candl
shades" And then he added, hastily
81 must remember to bring down
box of Henry Clays tomorrow. Do re
mind mel"
"I once thought that that stupid
=, heartless John Wilson rather live
Sarah Fallon; he used to see her a
! church on Sunday. Now he neve
sees her, because she has nothing t
= wear; and she and her little siste
are very sensitive about it. A ha
makes a great difference to a girl
: Arthur Bowen chuckled moment
, then, remembering the piteous littl
figure stealing shame-facedly fror
the church, he became serious. UI
, like most men, he could, when it wa
+ carefully pointed out to him, under
f stand woman's point of view.
a The shadows grew longer. Tn
. spring chorus from the salt marshe
. strengthened as twilight approached
3 Dear! DEAR" said his wife. 81 hat
!. to think of tomorrow. Every Monda
h seems buster than every other MOI
: day. l must try to tuck baby's dress
and the Wizards are coming to Dime,
n I'll have to make the mayonnaise m!
o self, and run everywhere for som
= spring flowers for the table. don
, think l can find enough violets-ol
8 dear! There's babyi" And she "a
: off.
Arthur Bowen sat contemplate
. the darkened landscape. He lit
! cigar, and said to himself: "The ric
Il we're always blaming the rich; W
4 never blame ourselves. And yet "
have all the time there is, too. Tt
I rich make a thousand artificial care
:. for themselves, and we, too" 1
!. drifted off into reverie, for his cigs
l L