Montpelier examiner. [volume] (Montpelier, Idaho) 1895-1937, 1914-12-18

something other than fever. i've
something to say. It's just this. II
I'm going to be sick I'd prefer to be
sick right here, unless it's something
catching. No hospital. Don't ask me
why. l don't know. We people on
the road are all alike. Wire T. A.
Buck, Jr., of the Featherloom Petticoat
company, New York You'll find plenty
of clean nightgowns in the left-hand
tray of my trunk, covered with white
tissue paper. Get nurse that doesn't
nursed In last, where they treated her
like queen and waited on her hand
and foot. For goodness sake, put my
switch where nothing will happen to
1t, and If / die and they run my pic
ture in the Dry Goods Review under
the caption, Veteran Travelling Sales
woman Succumbs at Glen Rock I'll
haunt the editor" She paused q mo-
ment
Everything will be all right" said
the housekeeper, soothingly. You'll
think you're right at home, it'll be so
comfortable. Was there anything else,
now?"
YES" said Emma McChesney
The most important Of all. My son,
Jock McChesney, is fishing up in the
Canadian woods. A telegram may not
reach him for three weeks. They're
shifting about from camp to camp. Try
to get him, but don't scare him too
much You'll find the address under
]. In my address book in my handbag.
Poor kid. Perhaps it's just as well he
doesn't know
Perhaps it was. At any rate it was
true that had the tribe of McChesney
been as the leaves Of the trees, and
had 1t held family reunion III Emma
McChesney's little hotel bedroom, 1t
would have mattered not at all to her.
For she was ck-doctor-three-tim
OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES bottles-by-the-bed-
side sick, her head. with its bright hair
rumpled and dry with the fever, toss
ing from side to side on the lumpy
hotel pillow, or lying terribly silent
and inert against the gray-white OF the
bed linen. She never quite knew how
narrowly she escaped that picture In
the Dry Goods Review.
Then one day the fever began to re-
cede, slowly, whence fevers come, and
the indefinable air of suspense and re-
preston that fingers about a sick.
room at such crisis began to lift i'm
perceptibly. There came a time when
Emma McChesney asked in a weak
but sane voice:
Did Jock come? Did they cut off
my hair?a
Not yet, dear" the nurse had an
swered to the first, "but we'll hear in
a day or SO, I'm sure" And, Your
lovely hair! Well. not If l know it,"
to the second.
The spirit of small-town kindness
took Emma McChesney in its arms.
The dingy little hotel room glowed
with flowers. The story of the sick
woman fighting there alone in the ter
rors of delirium had gone up and down
about the town. Housewives with
fine contempt for hotel soup sent
broths of chicken and beef. The local
members OF the u. G. T. sent roses
enough to tax every vase and wash
pitcher that the hotel could muster,
and asked their wives to call at the
hotel and see what they could do. The
wives came. obediently, but with sus-
picfon and distrust in their eyes, and
remained to pat Emma McChesneys
arm, ask to read aloud to her, and to
indulge generally in that process
known as cheering her up" Every
travelling man who stopped at the lit
tie hotel on his way to Minneapolis
added to the heaped-up offerings at
Emma MeChesney's shrine. Books
and magazines assumed the proper
tons of a library. One could see the
hand of I. A. Buck, Jr., in the cases
of mineral water, quarts OF wine cum
Ling cordials and tiny bottles Of
liqueur that stood in convivial rows on
the closet shelf and floor. There came
letters. too, and kilograms with such
phrases as let nothing be left undone"
and spare no expense" under t. A.
Buck, Jris., signature.
So Emma McChesney climbed the
long, weary hill of illness and pain,
reached the top, painting and almost
spent, rested there, and began the
easy descent on the other side that
led to recovery and strength. But
something was lacking. That sunny
optimism that had been Emma Nc
Chesney's most valuable asset was alb
sent. The blue eyes had lost their
brave laughter A respondent droop
fingered on the corners of the mouth
that had been such rare mixture of |
hrmness and tenderness. Even the
advent of Fat Ed Meyers. her keen
est competitor, and representative of
the Strauss Sanssilk company, failed
to awaken in her the proper spirit Of
antagonism. Fat Ed Meyers sent a
bunch of yiolets that devastated the
violet beds at the local greenhouse.
Emma McChesney regarded them list
lessly when the nurse lifted them out
of their tissue wrappings. But the
name on the card brough a tiny smile |
to her lips.
He says he'd like to see you, If you
feel able said Miss Haney, the nurse,
when she came up from dinner.
Emma MeChesney thought a minute
Better tell him it's catching" she
said.
He knows it isn't" returned Miss
Haney. But If you don't want him.