The Lambertville record., 1918-03-28

rag. Why, I'd rather play the piano
in fivecent moving picture house
than do what I'm doing now. But
the old man wanted his son to be a
business man, not crazy, piano-play-
ing galoot That's the way he put it.
And | was darn fool enough to think
he was right Why can't people stand
up and do the things they're out to
do! Not one person in a thousand
does. Why, take you-I don't know
you from Eve, but just from the. way
you shed the briny l know you're
busy regretting.'
"Regretting?" repeated Emma Nc
Chesney, in a wall. DO you know
what l am? I'm a lady drummer
And do you know what l want to do
this minute? l want to clean house
want to wind a towel around my
head, and pin up my skirt, and slosh
around with a pail of hot, soapy
water. l want to pound a couple of
mattresses in the back yard, and eat
cold dinner off the kitchen table.
That's what l want to do"
We'll, go on and do it," said the
fat man.
DO it? l haven't any house to
clean. l got my divorce ten years ago,
and I've been on the road ever since.
l don't know why | stick. I'm pull
ing down good, fat salary and com
missions, but it's no life for woman,
and | know it, but I'm not big enough
to quit It's different with a man on
the road. He can spend his evenings
taking in two or three nickel shows,
or he can stand on the drug store
corner and watch the pretty girls go
by, or he can have game of bill
liards, or maybe cards. Or he can
have a nice. quiet time just going up
to his room. and smoking a cigar and
writing to his wife or his girl. D'you
know what l do?"
NO" answered the fat man, inter-
estedly. "What?"
Evenings l go up to my room and
sew or read. Sew! Every hook and
eye and button on my clothes is
moored so tight that even the hand
laundry can't tear 'em off You
couldn't pry those fastenings away with
dynamite. When | find a hole in my
stockings I'm tickled to death, be
cause it's something to mend. Ant
read? Everything from the rules o
the house tackled up on the door tt
spelling out the French short story IL
tho back of the Swell Set magazine
It's getting on my nerves. Do yol
know what l do Sunday mornings
No, you don't. Well, | go to church
that's what | do. And l get greer
there getting nervous about 11:45 o
so, when the minister is still in knee
deep, and | know they're wondering
if Lizzie has basted the chicken oftel
enough, and if she has put the celer!
in cold water and the ice cream Il
packed in burlap in the cellar, and /
she has forgotten to mix In a table
spoon of flour to make it smooth. Yol
can tell by the look on their faces
that there's company for dinner. Ant
you know that after dinner they'll sill
around, and the men will smoke, and
the women folks will go upstairs, and
she'll show the other woman her new
scalloped, monogrammed, hand-em
broidered guest towels, and the waist
that her cousin Ethel brought from
Paris. And maybe they'll slip off then
skirts and lie down on the spare room
bed for ten minutes nap. And you
can hear the hired girl rafting the
dishes in the kitchen, and talking to
her lady friend who is helping her
wipe up so they can get out early
You can hear the two of them laugh
ing above the clatter of the dishes
The fat man banged one fist down
on the piano keys with a crash.
I'm through" he said. Il quit to
night. I've got my own life TO live
Here, will! you shake on 1t? I'll quit
II you will You're a born housekeep
er. You don't belong on the road any
more than l do. It's now or never