Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1916-10-06

| soprano TO sing them. AS soon as
he heard me, he decided no one can
do justice to the songs as can. And
| he wants me to make the tour. He's
to play the accomplishments himself.
The tour starts in two months. Oh,
| Tom," she finished, in childlike ap-
peal, cant go? want to, so much!"
Tom Price came around to his wife's
side by the table. She had risen. He
put his arms tenderly around her,
as he made answer:
Sweetheart, l feel like brute, to
refuse you anything in the world. And
if it were really for your happiness,
wouldn't stand in your way for one
moment. But it isn't, dear. The truly
! happy woman is the woman with a
home and husband of her own. Not
the woman who must knock around
the country on stuffy trains and sleep
in cheap hotels, picking up a living
as a singer or an actress"
Gust as you say, Tom," she agreed,
meekly.
He kissed her good-by and hurried
off for his morning inspection of the
new building.
Laura looked from the window,
watching until he was out Of sight.
Then she turned back to her house
hold duties. She carried heavy heart
all morning, as she realized the hope
she must throw away.
She carried a far heavier heart,
| hot foil
at noon, Tom Price was brought home
to her on a stretcher-senseless, in
ert, terribly injured The ambulance
surgeon, who escorted the stricken
man, told Laura the story of the ac-
cident.
Tom had been standing on an upper
| floor framework, watching the unload
ing of an elevatorful Of brick and NOR
tar when the elevator rope broke.
A workman who was still in the
elevator had leaped for the scaffold-
ing, to save himself from a fall. Tom
had sprung forward to catch him. The
workman's convulsively outfung hands
had dragged Tom from his precarious
balance at the edge of the elevator
shaft. Together, the two men had
fallen to the ground floor.
Both had been picked up uncon-
scious. Tom had recovered his senses
long enough to whisper demand that
he be taken home instead of to the
| hospital.
The surgeon reported that Prices
right leg had doubled under him in
the fall, sustaining compound frac-
ture in two places. Also that he was
mass of Commissions and abrasions
and might perhaps be injured intern
ally, as well.
Laura installed herself as assistant
to the two trained nurses the family
doctor brought. Specialists were
called in to determine the extent of
the internal hurts. And the dreary
routine of sickroom life began.
The little nest egg in the savings
ball on hot stove.
Two months had passed since the
accident. Tom, fully dressed at last
(but with his bandaged leg stuck
straight before him on bench and
his crutches at his side), sat in the
little living room of the fat. 1t was
| his first day outside his own room.
And he glanced about him in per-
| plexity.
This room seems, somehow,
changed, since was cut here before"
he said to Laura. Its different and
and barer."
She hesitated an instant, then said,
very quietly:
Its the absence of my piano that
makes the room look queer"
"Your piano." he repeated, That's
so. Where is it?"
81 sold it. Last week"
"Sold it? Are you joking?" =
at isn't much of joke" she replied,
eat least, not to me-"
"But why did you do such a
thing?" he demanded. why did you
sell it? You were so fond of it. And
you needed it so, in your practicing."
There won't be any more practic-
ing, just now" she told him, Il have
stopped my music lessons"
But I don't understand" he stam-
mered. "They meant so much to you.
They and your piano"
Dear she said, softly, "they
meant nothing to me--nothing at all
compared to your precious self. Our
money ran out. You had TO have the
right food, the right medicines, the
right nursing. There was only one
thing left to do. So gave UP my ex-
pensive music lessons And / sold
my expensive piano. When the piano
money is gone / will try to figure out
some new way to meet expenses until
you are strong enough to work again.
A mist of tears arose in the eyes of
the illness-weaksned man.
"Ycu sacrificed your beloved piano
for mel" he muttered, brokenly, ooh,
darling, how can l ever make up to
you for that?"
by not thinking about it any long