Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1919-09-02
The Old
Homestead
BY ALDEN CHAPMAN
wright. 1919. By western Newspaper Uaion.l

81 don't seem to please her." spoke
Martin Frey to his old-time friend,
Judge Bartlett.
swell, Mary is not a demonstratiYe
person." said the Judge. Don't get
lot of nonsense into your head. Mar
tin. You have provided a beautiful
home, the children are healthy and
happy-what more can you expectp
But Martin Frey sighed and shook
his head, and although he did not pur-
sue the subject it remained in his
mind. He had married Mary back at
their home town, Leighton, twenty
years since. Never had there been a
And now, only q month before he had
confronted Mary with the surprise of
her life.
For years he had planned 1.-THE
building Of d model home as good as
any in the town. He had cherished
the idea, saving, scraping, for nearly a
decade. He had never let Mary even
surmise what he was at. When the
beautiful house was all completed and
newly furnished he had appeared In
a brand-new automobile and had piled
in the delighted children, with the
brisk, CHEEKY hail:
"Come, Mary, I'm going to take a
driver
And then, as they reached the new
home he had so proudly acquired, he
drew a key from his pocket, handed 1t
to her and said, grandly waving his
hand toward the pretty house:
There's your new home, Mary, and
no one ever deserved one as you dol"
Mary was pleased, there was no
doubt of that. She admired all the
fine points of the handsome residence
and her eyes frightened as they noted
the comfortable and even luxurious
furnishings.
You are a good man, Martin" she
said, and her voice quivered with emo
ton, and then she kissed him, and his
heart warmed toward her.
For all that, as time went on, Mar
tin noticed that Mary did not seem to
exactly fit into her new environment.
They were able to keep maid now,
but Mary was welded to her old
housekeeping ways. She missed the
old kitchen stove and the shining gas
range troubled her. She missed wash
ing the children every Saturday night
in the old-fashioned wash tub.
ITS beautiful, Martin" she would
say, "but 1 can't help thinking of the
old home back at Leighton. Don't
you remember the view from the old
open piazza there, just far and grand?
And the cool well water, and the
honeysuckle vine, and the little school
house just beyond our LOTT"
II do, indeed" Martin would reply,
land it's the sweetest picture in the
world iii my memory. But ways have
changed, Mary. And the old place?
Twenty-years-why, l suppose Leigh
ton is just bustling little city now,
and you wouldn't recognize it, with all
the old landmarks gone"
Still Mary cherished her dream. 1t
was not difficult to convince her that
the children We're given great advan-
tages under the new order of affairs,
but the old home seemed to beckon
her. 1t was shrine in memory and
devotion and she longed for sight of
it once more. How much, Martin never
knew until Mary was under a spell of
sickness. He was spelling the nurse
one evening and seated in the half
darkened room where Mary lay, when
he knew from her restlessness that she
was fevered and incoherent. He
caught some words that unclaimed at
tentiOn and interest. In her delirium
Mary fancied she was conversing with
an Old-time girl friend.
II don't want Martin to know. dear"
Mary was murmuring. He is so good
and kind to me, but it has seemed to
me for years that the greatest boon l
could ask would be to visit the dear
old home again. II 1t is only to
freshen my memory and help the long
ing l cannot repress, it would be a
blessing TO me. l hope some time be-
fore l die Martin will visit Leighton
and 1 will get my wish.''
You poor, romantic, sentimental
dear! That you shall !" whispered
Martin to himself, and until the day
far ahead when Mary regained her old
strength the idea never left his mind.
The glad look in her eyes fully re-
paid his care and thoughtfulness,
when he one day announced that he
was going to take a trip to Leighton
in the automobile, children and all.
With eager, expectant eyes Mary
leaned from the vehicle as the ma
chine turned into the street where she
had passed her early childhood. Slow
ly her face lost its token of delight.
There were stores where the houses
of her youth had been. The old-time
green lawns were gone. The quaint,
aforementioned little schoolhouse
was occupied as repair shop, the
grand valley view shut out by the
smoke of great factories, the honey
suckle vine was no more. and the
house, always so neatly painted and
kept seemed ready to collapse with
the first strong wind and was given
over to poor mill workers.
Mary drew down her veil to hide
her tears. "We had better go on"
she said forlornly, and was very quiet
all the way back TO their starting
point. That evening she was more
kind and gentle than ever to the chill
dren. and she placed her arm about
her husbands neck when they were
alone.
kissed him fondly, 81 have learned q
Iesson-hOme is where love is; and. !
oh. | am so content and happyv