Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1918-05-28
LETTER IN The
MORNING MAIL
How Mrs. Lane Finally Realized
That Thousands of Other
Mothers Sons Are at War
Scared Battle Front.
BY MAMMALIAN FOSTER
Of the ViuiIantes.

VI Tie tl9lldnLeS.
Mathematics teach us that l from I
leaves nothing, and there is also the
well known biological theorem that
you cannot get blood from a turnip.
1t is also assumed, Sir Isaac Newton
having demonstrated the law, that
what goes up is bound to come down,
but this is only abstract. Mrs. Lane
probably would have denied it.
The fiat rent, previously $1,000 a
year, now was 81 400, and it showed no
signs whatever of coming down. The
same condition applied also to her
children's shoes. The shoes now cost
81, whereas they formerly had cost 81.
But this was merely detail. A SINH.
lar phenomenon occurred as to beef.
steaks, potatoes, butter, fish and the
81 other varieties of domestic essen.
tails. All had gone up; none had
come down. About the only thing sta,
bic in Mrs. Lanes cosmos was Mr..
Lanes yearly income. This was $1,000
a year. Already Mrs. Lane had given
up one maid. The war literally was at
her door. True, Mrs. Lane had no son,
no brother-no kin of any kind-in the
war, but the war still was at her door.
Hard to Make Ends Meet.
Give money for the war? What do
you think she was doing, anyway?
She was giving every cent she had,
trying to make both ends meet in her
household. 1t hurt, though. Mrs.
Lane was a kindly, warm hearted wo-
man, and she would have liked to give.
The war was dreadful 1t was so
dreadful she'd stopped reading about 1t.
But one must read letters. One
must do that when a friend takes the
trouble to write: them.
The letter came in the morning mail.
Mrs. Lane read it, then she read 1t
again. Afterward she sat there alb
sorbed, silent, rigid. The color had crept
out of her face, and her breath came
swiftly from between her parted lips.
II haze Just come back from the
cGnteeas," it read. "Such an after
noon! A trGtnload of seriously
G0Ounded to be fed at once, tohich
Is trying, as one has to climb into
all the carriages, one after the 9TH
er. We begin aottb the men aph0
are 10eU enough to sit up and han
die their cups, and those tDhO are
too i'll eUen to lift their heads, of
course, zoe haze to lift and feed
bad face qoOU'lds are the hardest.
can stand ordinary aOounds of
! blood, but tohen q man ought to
haze q nose and mouth and all he
has tS-ughi-it takes all your
courage to get through q feeding.
managed to get halt pint OF
milk and q beaten egg and some
brandy doton the throat of a bog of
tt0e1tty aohO had no mouth left, and
had to clean 1t beticeen every
n1outbfuE. He had had no food for
fifteen hours and tDGs 80 thirsty
that he 4oGs nearly insane. held
his head against me, and I gagged
all the time, but Just kept think
ing, Suppose 1t UGs my boy tOho
needed q drink and there t0Gs no
one to giUe 1t to him. SO 40ent
through 10Th 1t, and he finally toent
to sleep. oh, Martha, Martha Lane,
zoe need .eUerything-GH you and
the rest can send"
If Lawrence Had Gone to War.
One o'clock struck, Mrs. Lane still
sat with the letter ciutched in her
hand. "What's for dinner?" asked Han.
nah, the maid. Mrs. Lane hardly heard
her. She was still sitting there when
Olivia floundered in. Olivia was four.
teen, the conscious age. Mother" she
said fretfully, II can't go to dancing
school again in brown gloves when all
the other girls have white ones" The
plant reminded Mrs. Lane that Law
renee at boarding school had written
that morning about his socks. He had
only two pairs of silk ones left. "And,
mother" said Olivia, continuing Blu.
what Olivia said Mrs. Lane didn't hear.
She had dropped her head on the table
and unaccountably was weeping. "Just
suppose it was my boy-minei" she
was sobbing.
"Why, motheri' u calculated Olivia.
She hurried toward her mother.
"What is it, mother? You're acting just
as though Lawrence had gone to warr
Mrs. Lane looked up, the tears
streaking down her face.
"That's just what is the matter with
mel should be acting as if Lawrence
were there. And so should you'll If
Willie were like these, the boys there"
she pointed to the letter that had Slip
ped from her lap to the floor-"it he
were, like them, in need, dying, want
ing eggs, milk, brandy, to keep him
alive, would you be buying white
gloves? And would we think what other
people wear or how they live or wheth-
er we had only one servant now? If my
boy was over there, if my son were"
But other women's sons are over
there. Mrs. Lane had at last realized
this. The tears were rolling down her
cheeks.
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