Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1919-09-16
AND DAD
BY C. 3. BROOKS.

making a sweater, another a pair of
socks. the third helmet, all for the
boys.
He took up his paper and reread the
paragraph that told what dads bit in
the war consisted of-the one who
stayed at heane caring for the younger
children. while mother goes TO the Red
Cross rooms to work, and the money
he gave the girls to-aid the sufferers
Of the stricken countries, and after all
not one show of appreciation or praise
does a father get. He was not sup
posed to cherish tender memories Of
his boy as child and man.
"Hm!" grunted Mr. Morley, doesn't
dad sacrifice his son and feel the
loss of cOmpanionship? Doesn't he
share in the proud possession of a
soldier boy?"
Now, John Morley was quite fire.
quent visitor at the fire station, where
his friend, Tim Bourne, chief, was al
ways glad to welcome him. This eve
ming found Morley at his old retreat.
Even there he could not escape an
array of sweaters and socks.
How did you Learnt he asked.
''My daughter Grace showed u.s."
proudly admitted Bourne.
''LoOks queer to see men knitting.
I've never noticed it so much before
fascinating by the looks" yielded Nor
ley.
"'Tis," lacOnically agreed the chief,
struggling with stitch half escaping
his clumsy fingers. "She-comes-
nearly every-evening," he added,
hesitatingly, SO engrossed was he in
his struggle with the truant stitch.
Coming tOnight?" asked Morley, his
voice half tremuIous from the most as
founding idea working in his brain.
"Ye-es," answered Bourne, trium-
phantly catching the stitch back on the
needle.
1t was with hands trembling with
pride and fear that Morley took his
first lesson from pretty, goOd-natured
Grace Bourne. How the man worked
and perspired over the arduous task
I'm coming again. | won't give it
up. | want to make. a sweater for my
boy Bill. over there" Morley c0nfid-
ed to his young teacher.
"Why, I'm making one for Will; so
Wen both be making William sweat
err; how funny" laughed the girl.
"YOur brOtherT' asked Morley, mis-
chievOusly.
"N-nO-a friend" blushed Grace.
81 see," answered her pupil, staring
audaciously at the ring sparkling on
the young teachers finger.
Late that night his opinion of the
young teacher was set forth In glowing
terms In a letter to his son, Bill. The
letter ended with these words:
"-- and Bill. don't get entan-
gled In any love affairs over there, for
have found perfect sample of
wife. No, you can't have this one, for
sparkling ring tells me she is mort
gagged to another fellow. Remember,
1 said sample, SO she's not for sale.
Remember my advice
81. YOUR OLD DAD"
There came an evening when Dad
entered the room a cOnQueror, with
head held high. He opened square
bundle. maJestically, and held aloft a
sweater and a pair, of socks.
Him" triumphed Dad; perhaps
dads are some use in this war;" and
he pointed to the articles.
"What-do-yOu-mean9 JOHN. be-
gan Mrs. Morley.
'Why, Dad Morley, yOu--you never
=" Blanche gasped. then paused in
amazement.
Eyes l did. Do you think fathers
are mere puppets; that they have no
patriotism? These are for Bill. Grace
Bourne showed me at the fire station"
Dad began rubbing his hands together.
"As If you had to go outside to
learn" pouted Ethel. "Why didn't you
ask us?"
Dad shook his head and then said,
jokingly: "A prophet in his own coun-
try, you know"
1T is not true here, you dear old
dad" and Ethel, Notwithstanding her
yarn-ensnarled feet, sprang to her IA
Their and Rugged him tight.
Mrs. Morley quietly put paper into
her husbands hand.
"Telegraml Bills coming home!"
Dads face fell little.
Sorry, Dadw exclaimed Blanche.
"N-no; sort of disappointed about
sending the sweater and socks That's
all. Bless the boyl 1 can't wait"
Perhaps he may need sweater in
America" saucily suggested Ethel.
81 hope he won't rave about any girl
over there, for l want to recommend
one like my ideal-Grsce Bourne.
What are you laughing att"
He turned to Ethel. who was IN
snarling her ball OF yarn. She sat
there giggling.
Now Bill is coming / can tell the
secret. Bill is engaged to as nice girl
as your ideal, Dad"
Don't believe il. He couldn't find
one like her over there" persisted Nor
ley.
Ethel giggled again.
He didn't have to try, for he got
her over here. lists" tantalized
the girl.
"Who is il, you tease? queried her
father.
"Its-it's Grace Bourne herself. II
you'd only had eyes and-why. where's
Dad gomez"
ITO the fire station TO find his future
daughter, no doubt" laughed Blanche.
And that's what Dad WAS doing.
Copyright. 1919. by the Mcclure Newspa-
per Syndicste(
Hadn't Seemed to Work.
An oldish man In rusty-brown clothes