The evening Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1918-1920, 1919-04-08

Fin the past, and loan him five so hi
could go back and get another week;
bed and board.
"Lost yer job, Mibb?" asked the
thread-bare little man. He sat OPP
posite her, his little rounded should
ers hunched up, his thumbs together
on the tables edge, in his buttonhole
wilted ragged nosegay.
mo; something worse than my
job, George"
"What could be worsc'n your jot
to lose, Mibb?"
"My soul, George, my soul, my
SOUL"
He looked at Mibb trying to get
his cue. Was she facetious or al
ready intoxicated or was she in earn
est? He concluded she was INDUCING
in grim jest.
"And when did you lose this soul o.
your'n, Mibb?"
"Years and years ago, George.
Years and years ago when | was
young and handsome"
George smirked.
"You're pretty and handsome now,
Mibb." Thus did he hope to wheedle
the five.
"Pretty and handsome? Don't be
an ass, George. I'm not in the mood
for it tonight"
"If you amt pretty and handsome,
what arc your"
"Im a greasy burned out, old wo-
man with a heart like peanut and
face that shows plainly enough
she's gone the pace and is paying the
price. That's what am!''
"You're a woman" began George.
"I'm not a woman-I'm only fc-
male. Maybe | showed some traces
of being woman once. Maybe |
could have become a woman if I'd
had better bringing up and not been
so God-damned selfish. But | bung
led the job of life and ] see it now
and I think Pm going to get-drunk.
If you don't want to miss it, sit where
you are George, AID watch me dis
sipate."
But Mabel, my dear!
Don't, dear, me! You want some
thing out of me. Nobody ever dears
a selfish woman unless they want
favors. There's going to be funeral
here, George. l know woman
who's goin' to bury her sorrows and
heartache in wine. Hold coffin
handle, George. 1t will be entertain
ing!''
"But Mabel; really, you mustn't,
you know. You'll lose your job"
"Lose my job! And what O. that?
What's the loss of job beside the
things I've lost?-"
"What have you lost, especially,
Mabcl?"
"What have I lost--especially?
Listen,-I'll tell you what I've lost
I've lost my girlhood and
my future; I've lost the regard OF
people and birthright
of honor. I've lost the love of one
of the finest men God ever made,
sort of a silly grinning fellow but
with a heart as good as gold and
out of whom / could have made
man, and a husband who'd be with
me now and make my last days hap
Ply. I've lost a fine home and friends
and the things that money can't buy,
and I've lost a fortune also. I've
lost baby arms around my neck and
damp drooly baby kisses on my lips.
I've lost the blessings of little chill
dren growing up around me, George!
and the Joy of caressing their bumps
and softening their tragedies and
healing their bruises. I've lost-God!
what haven't l lost!--I've lost the
glory of reaching times that I've
reached now, tonight, and not single
man to tower over my shoulder and
call me mother, and stand
around with his brothers beside my
bed and pray to God, if there is one,
that my life may be spared for the
sake of what / mean to someone.
That's what I've lost, ec-specially,
George, and l only want to forget
my troubles and be carried back in
fancy to my gillhood in little New
England town again!"
The waiter came up. Mibb order
ed wine. George raised his stubby
little hands in protest But a bit
Historically she laughed him down.
"And why have 1 lost it, George
why have lost all those things? I'll
tell you, George, Because l was too
damned afraid that I'd do somethin
for other folks that'd interfere with
my blessed happiness or spoil my
shape. Because l was brought up by
a hellion that'd should have been
covered with black blotches from a
harness tug for teaching me that a
,woman's place in life was to go
around with a stuffed club in her
skirts loodod IN III, r,o;,4 Of ox,,Jo-;on