The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1919-08-16
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BY NSLLlE A. FAIRBANKS.

Jean Dickerman pressed her pretty
pink chin deep into the palm of her
hand. as she watched the small white
snowfiakes whirl around then land in
little piles outside the window
"HOw l hate this old, lonely farm
house with its rickety old roof" and
Jean shivered as the low moan of the
wind broke the stiffness.
"Just because Toms father left him
this old rattle-trap is no reason why l
should spend my life here"
Living in the old. lonely farmhouse
had been the bone Of contention be-
tween Jean and Tom ever since he had
brought her there bride one year be-
fore and while Tom could see nothing
but beauty in the place that had al
ways been home to him, Jeans heart
ached for coZy little apartment in
the city.
The sound of heavy footsteps told
Jean her big, good-natured husband
was approaching, and she realized it
was supper time. Leaving the WIN
|
be greeted by her husband with the
words: "Well, grille, l guess we are
in for big snOwstorm." Jean did not
reply. but prepared the supper in
gloomy silence.
After the supper dishes were
washed and put away Tom put some
logs in the fireplace and drawing an
armchair close to the fire he gently
pushed Jean into it. and seating him
self on the arm they watched the
burning logs in silence. Suddenly
jean spoke: 81 think l will run up to
the city tomorrow. Tom, and see
mother for a few weeks. 1t doesn't
seem as though I could stand this
place any longer" Gall right, Jeanne;
perhaps the change will do you good"
Tom said good-naturedly. But as the
light from the cracking logs fell upon
his face Jean could not help but sec
the panied expression. Nevertheless
she had made up her mind to go and
nothing could stop her. She just
longed for the noise and excitement Of
the city; and the next morning. al
though it showed hard, found her on
her way.
The train was four hours late, and
when Jean arrived at her mothers
coy four-room apartment she was
tired and cross. Somehow her
thoughts kept turning back to Tom as
she saw him last, standing by the win
dow, smiling and waving until she was
out of sight.
The evening hours dragged slowly
by, and as the steam pipes sizzled
Jean found herself comparing the
kissing noise to the soft cracking of
the logs at home.
At ten o'clock she went to her old
room, and after she had prepared to
retire, turned off her light, and raising
the curtain she gazed, as she had the
night before, at the white flakes pill
ing up on the roofs beyond. and as
she watched she pictured Tom, sitting
BY the log fire. The wind blew the
wet fakes against her window and
Jean hated the sound. She looked at
the clock on the tower across the way.
It was now IL 80. Just ten hours be-
fore the next train home! Home, how
strangely sweet the word sounded.
Then an awful fear seized Jean. What
II the snow continued and the trains
would be unable to run? Her fears
were realized, for when she awoke the
next morning the snow was still CON-
ing steadily down. Mother and father
pleaded with her to stay, but nine
o'clock found her on her way to the
station.
The train was stalled for hours at
different places, and it was not until
nine O'Clock that night that jean
reached the little country station, and
as no carryall put in its appearance
she started afoot to the farmhouse.
The big drifts in places were nearly
to her waist, and if it were not for
the bright light in the low farmhouse
window ahead Jean would have lost
her courage.
At last, cold and wet she crept soft
~ up the steps. then quietly opened
the door. Tip-toeing softly. she made
her way to the sitting room and up to
the old armchair, and by the light Of
the dying fire she could see that Tom
had fallen asleep. Pushing back his
ruf11ed hair from his forehead. she
pressed her cold cheek against his
warm one.
With a start Tom awoke, exclaim-
ing, happily: "Why. grille, what does
this mean?" Then Jean explained
how unhappy she had been the night
before. IF had been obliged to walk
oil the way from mothers, Tom. I
would have come Just the same" and
rs the wind moaned again through the
chimney, Jean nestled closer and
whispered: That's music. dear, COM
pared with the kissing Of steam pipes"
and the dying light from the logs fell
upon q contented couple.
Copyright. 1919. by the Mcclure News
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