The Monticellonian. [volume] (Monticello, Ark.) 1870-1920, 1917-07-12
JOHN J0NES-HERO!
BY JOAN Rugby.


watch with the other Mrs Jones knew
what he was going To say next. He
said it. Five minutes. Guess I'm all
right"
If he had not uttered those very
words as he had every morning, except
Sundays and holidays, for II years,
Mrs. Jones would have taken his tenn
perature and sent for the doctor, Jones
was very methodlcal, deadly method
ical.
II Mr.. Jones missed his train-al-
though that never happened-it would
have been not because he was late hut
because the train was early and II he
came down 20 breakfast ten minutes
ahead of time II was not that Mr.
Jones was early but TINT the clock
was slow and breakfast late. Mr.. Jones
was never wrong; he was never ex-
cited. nor in hurry, nor out of hui
NOR, nor anything for that matter.
but plain John Jones. Even his maine
had to be John. If 1t had only been
Florian. or Absalom, or Ishkabiladab.
or something
Mrs. Jones sighed. 1t wasn't sigh
of regret, for she had nothing to re-
greet. John was good to her. The treu-
Bile was that Mrs. Jones would have
welcomed something to sigh for. II
only something would happen. Any
thing
Every other woman she knew had
something to keep her occupied. To be
sure, ii was trouble in some cases;
but even trouble is better than an
empty nothing
Mrs. Jones began 10 realize that
something was very much wrong this
morning. She was tired Of washing the
dishes and putting them away only to
get them out again for lunch she was
tired of darning Johns little, worn
socks, tired of making apple tapioca
pudding the way John liked it, tired of
doing everything.
Finally she went into the living room.
There was Johns chair with the deep
hollow worn in the seat. there was the
footstool he liked, his smoking stand.
his humdor. the book he had been
reading with the place carefully
marked Mrs. Jones looked ut all
these things with sudden revulsion and
gave the stool little kick out of the
way. John Jones' I'm sick and tired
of everything she said aloud, then
started at the sound of her o~n voice.
"What's wrong with me to be acting
like this. | wonder! But can't help
IL whatever II is"
Then she turned to II picture of her
husband she kept on the top OF her
desk. "I'll tell you what's wrong, John
JONES' I'm tired and sick of every
thing and I'm tired of-of you. Yes
| am. | don't care. can't help it.
You're just the same all the time and
| can't stand II. You'll 90 on being
perfect till your dying day and I'll 90
crazy
The morning wore on and Mrs. Jones
finally went about her work. The old
apathy had replaced the turbulence of
the early hourS-but With Il difference.
Her resentment against her husband
had come 10 stay and she was already
planning dozen ways to rid herself
of this monotonous thral that bound
her
Il could 30 to Aunt Mary's in the
country for month, but that
wouldn't help much. 1t would be just
the same when | came back. or l
could study To be nurse. but John
wouldn't let me. and, of course, now
that | am married to him | guess he
has right to expect me TO stay at
home and keep house for him.
The surprise came when Mrs. Jones
WIS in the kitchen rolling out the
crust of lemon custard pie.
Mr.. Jones walked in-the only time
in l. years he had come home before
the five-ten train In the afternoon. And
with him came uniform of khaki
for he had it on.
The rolling pin clattered to the floor
and Mrs. Jones, with smudge of flour
on one pretty pink cheek, opened her
mouth without uttering a sound.
Mr.. Jones' eyes twinkled with amuse-
ment. salute your superior officer
Mrs. JONES' he commanded. coming
near and turning his cheek for a kiss.
why, John, you-youfe not going
to war. are your" Her face blanched
and her voice trembled.
"Sure l am. I'm going to camp any
way The commission came today. II
Is because of my experience in the
Spanish war. I'm Il major now. | am
going to train the Youngsters"
But aren't you afraid, John? You
might be killed -
afraid Killed Pooh, | won't !,
but if | am, what's the difference? We
only live once. But don't worry, little
girl, I'm not going TO get hurt. What
| want to know is, can we tear up here
and store things. and will you come
along? There's a place for you if you
will. grille. His voice was full OF
appeal.
Suddenly Mrs Jones face kindled
with fire that had been latent all
these suppressed years.
.'Tll go To the end of the world with
you, dearest, she said happily, and her
superior officer folded her tightly In
his arms.
Copyright, 1911 by the Mcclure Newspa,
per Syndicate4