The Watertown news. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1917-1919, 1917-07-02
HIS BELOVED Wife
BY MARIE A. GOLDEN.

There isn't thing you or anybody
else could possibly say against Mel
Satterlee. He's steady going and
thrifty. He's got that big farm on his
hands and money In the bank, and I
don't see what more than that you
want, Mary Ellen, or what you expect.
Land alive, when l was a girl we'd
have thought half that was catch"
Mary Ellen smiled, little wistful
smile, close Tipped, unsatisfactory, al
together aggravating to anyone who
tried to influence her one way or the
other. Her mother stitched along now,
on her sideboard scarf Of tan linen,
keeping one eye on Mary Ellen nurs-
ing lame chick by the kitchen fire.
There had been four Taylor girls, ev-
cry one Of them clever and pretty, and
all the other girls were now safely
married off; but the youngest had been
like the lame chick in her hands, deli
cate when young and brought up with
extra tenderness and forbearance. She
was twenty-five now, ripe old age in
Baldwick. She had gone to high school
"How old is Mr.. Satterlee, mother,
do you suppose?" Mary Ellen's voice
held low contralto note that always
seemed to clear the conversational at
mosphere when she spoke.
"Not day over forty" answered
Mrs. Taylor stoutly. "Fine-looking
man, too, and you can't say he isn't,
Mary Elem
1T isn't himself at ALL" said Mary
Ellen. tits his beloved wife, Ann"
Every time I think of him I see her
as remember her when l was little
girl. Wasn't she dear, mother? I
know loved the columbines that grew
in her garden. They were the pref
test anywhere around, and one day
he moved the whole lot down. Then
there was one place in the lower mead
Ow where arbutus grew around the
gray rocks. He blasted them all out"
"But that's just mans way about
such things, child" sighed her mother.
"'Hewers Of wood and drawers of wa
ter the Bible says they are, and don't
see what else the pesky things are for,
but woman must be patient. I re-
member Ann Satterlee. too-Ann Jen-
nings she was before she married him.
Used to teach school for awhile over
at Hampton Roads. Naturally curly
hair and sang In the choir. Seemed
as If Mel did"
''Did what, mother?"
"Oh, just took it all out Of her. Even
as a boy he was set in his ways.
Course he took his fathers place so
young. They say he's worth $1,000
now, besides the two farms and all his
timber"
Mary Ellen knelt down and pulled out
from the chair beside the stove. The
sick chick was doing III It's box. Out
Of doors the spring held full sway over
the land. She stood on the threshold
for an instant, her eyes uplifted to the
beauty of the distant hills, then took
the short cut through the fields to the
little village burial ground behind the
church. 1t stood within it's four square
rock walls, guarded by pine and hem
lock sentinels. Some Of the old head
In the earth, a century and half old
and more. Mary Ellen made her way
carefully along the narrow paths I'M
til she came to the one spot she sought.
It was the last resting place Of Ann,
beloved wife of Melvin Satterlee.
Mary Ellen knelt down pulling out
some stray weeds. Somehow she felt
yearning sympathy toward the wom-
an whose life she remembered SO we'll.
She felt IS If Ann alone could under
stand now and shield her from Mel
Satterlee's wooing, from money and
prestige, his woodlots and two farms,
and If she refused him she knew she
could not remain at home. And be-
sides there was ElwoOd-ElwoOd, only
q year older than herself, who had new
er settled down, never made a success
of anything he put his hand to.
They had gone to school together,
and she had always helped him to pass
his examinations. Later, when she had
gone ahead, he had written to her of
all his trips away from home, of the
long, joyous road jaunts he took by
himself, youths vagabond, with only
hope for comrade. Now he had come
into possession of the sawmill in the
valley. Half the time when people
came there he was away and the big
wheel idle. Yet Mary Ellen loved him.
He knew every flower and plant in the
hills, the call Of every native bird and
every favOrite spot that she herself
loved well.
All the arguments of her father ran
through her head, all the obligations a
child owed to its parents, as he ex-
pressed it. 1t was flying in the face
of Providence to throw away >the
chance of being Mel Satterlee's second
wife. But Mary Ellen wondered as
she knelt in the myrtle and clover
whether Ann in her last summing up
would not have placed love and ten
derness ahead Of woOdlots and farms.
All at once from the old wind
ing up the hill she heard q call,
whistle that initiated the whippoorwill
over in the old hemlock near the iron
gate. 1t was Elwood walking leisure
ly along up from the post Office, bare
headed as usual, with his two Gordon
settlers at his heels. Mary Ellen rose
and laid her hand half unconsciously
on the granite shaft.
"ElwoOd," she called clearly, wait
for me- !" Inst for q moment she