Baraboo weekly news. [volume] (Baraboo, Wis.) 1912-197?, 1915-01-07
A BOX
FROM HOME
Copyright The Frank A. Munsey Compan,
BY INA BREVooT ROBERTS


IN response to a knock, Mrs. Har-
mon opened the studio door. TO find
Wynne Wright on the threshold
May | come in and wait for him ?"
the visitor asked, when she told him
her husband was not at home. 81 came
to say goodbye" he added as he re-
moved his coat. 81 sail for America
tomorrow. I'm going home to spend
Thanksgiving"
mats NICE" replied Mrs. Harmon.
trying not to feel envy because Wright
mad won success, had painted his pic
ture, while her husband was still un-
known as poor.
Yes, the young artist said, making
himself comfortable in an easy chair,
my nome Is up in New York state.
and maybe l won't be glad to see the
Old place and the old folks again"
Il can imagine how glad" returned
MRS. Harmon. my home was in New
YORK state, too" She smiled as she
spoke. but there was a note in her
voice that made Wright give her a
keen look
There, now I've gone and made you
homesick!" he cried, penitently. "How
stupid of me. / fancied you were from
New York city, but I might have
known you were from farther up the
state; you're so hospitable."
Mrs. Harmon did not reply. She
was looking out of window, her eyes
on the Paris street, her thoughts three
thousand miles away in snug, well
kept house at the edge of a green and
white town.
Are your parents living?" inquired
Wright. Since the subject has been
opened he knew that her loneliness
would be lessened by talking of her
old home.
Il don't know" she answered hest
tatingly. "You see, they did not ap-
prove Of my marriage. Father object
ed to Harold because he was an artist.
If he had painted houses or signs it
would have been all right; but pic
lures. If you marry that painter ia
Their told me, I never want to see you
or to hear from you again. The next
ried Harold, and we came to Paris.
I've been very happy ever since, but
/ get lonely at holiday tines
The conversation was interrupted by
footsteps and the sound of whist1ing in
the hall outside, and a moment later
Harold Harmon pushed the door open
with his foot. His arms were full of
bundles.
"Hello!" he explained, as he caught
sight of the guest. Going to stay and
have tea with u.s."
Harmon was a good looking young
fellow with fine, frank face, and
habit Of cheerful whistling, which did
not always accord with his inner
mood.
yes" Wright said in answer to his
hosts question, and told his news.
Harmon did not even have to try not
to feel bitterness, although he knew
himself to be be as clever and as much
In earnest as the other man, and as
deserving of success.
When the meal was over the two
men smoked and talked art, while Mrs.
Harmon sat sewing, silent for the most
part, but occasionally asking intelli-
gent questions. There was nothing to
mar the evenings enjoyment until
some one on the floor above began
playing American college songs on a
piano. Harmon began whistling a gay
French air as soon as the music stop
ped, and his wife hummed the tune
with him; but Wright could see that
though she resolutely kept her voice
steady, her hands were trembling.
"Good-bye, old man." said Harmon,
when the guest rose to go. Take care
of yourself, and eat some Thanksgiv-
ing turkey for us, Perhaps the next
year we'll be taking run over to the
old country ourselves"
Mrs. Harmon shook hands without
speaking, but with look in her eyes
that haunted Wright during his voy-
age