The evening Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1918-1920, 1919-03-24

Sam replied. "But for the sake Of
Jacks future I'll take run out this
evening and try and get something
definite for Mr.. Ezekial 1t would
be hard luck if Jack lost this oppor-
tunity through prolonged Illness
Sam drove out to the Purse place
j in one of Uncle Joe Folders livery
rigs. At half-past eleven at night
was awakened by the ominous ring
ing of my own door-bell. Sam stood
out in the frosty moonlight.
"Bill," he said, ooh God, BILL
Jacks grip has gone into pneumo-
mia, and he's taken turn for the
worse! Bill, you better get in. and
come back with me. Because-Jack
isn't expected-to live-until morn
ing!"
We spoke not word as we drove
those six miles through the crystal
white winter country. l sat for the
entire distance badly cramped by an
oxygen tank which Sam had procured
from the Metropolitan Drug Store.
i Far across the crusted winter fields
where swept gusts of nipping air,
saw ruddy lights at last Every
room in the Purse house appeared
! lighted.
We met Dr. Johnson at the TIRES
hold of the room off the kitchen-the
little side bedroom that for years had
been Mary's mothers.
you've brought the tank" he
demanded
! eyes," said Sam huskily.
"I'm afraid it's useless. Mary
waited too long. She depended too
much on home remedies, thinking it
was only bad cold that he had"
"Where is Nary"
"In there with him."
"Can we go in?"
eyes"
Mary was sitting on the edge of the
bed holding Jocks hand. She raised
her face blankly as we entered. The
situation was too sinister, too intense,
for such trifies as recognition. She
looked at US and then turned her
gaze back down on Jacks sleeping
face. But in that instant we saw that
Mary Purse was old Her face was
sunken. Her eyes were hollow. Her
hair was sprinkled with gray.
! Sam walked the foor-ceaselessly
up' an down the farmhouse dining
room, carrying and comforting a
little boy who was persistent in
| whimpering and breaking the silence
of that house because he could not
have his mother I sat in the arm
chair and tried to comfort young
/ Tom, age eleven, who was old enough
to realize much that was taking place.
But it was all bungled job at best.
The other boys were asleep, never
knowing alas, the meaning of the
long watches of that night.
! Along toward four o'clock, under
the influence of the oxygen though
still struggling with his breathing,
Jack rallied, came to consciousness
and opened his eyes.
His gaze met the face of his wife.
Her features and the faces of those
about his bed, seemed to tell him the
worst.
\ perhaps, l wouldn't have made
good, at MI. Ezekials office, after
ALL" he whispered weakly sot tina
Mary had to bend down to catch the
words. "Nevermind! Some
other time! Oh Mary! You
were better wife than l was hus,
band. You-will-be-a better
mother than l was father. I'll try
again-some other timew
!, There was gentle pressure OF
his hand.
Some-other-time,
Mary put her free hand suddenly to
her eyes. Otherwise there was nc
sound no motion, in that room.
And Jack Purse went home.
When the bright sun rose on the
frozen winter morning and glinted
affair over drifted New England hills
and started the icicles dripping
dripping, dripping on thousand
farmhouse eaves,-only the husk oil
Jack Purse lay under a sheet upor
the bed.
Oh, that our story could have
been turned differently here! Oh, that
indeed this we're fiction with puppet
characters who might be pushed for.
ward or pulled backward, this way
and that, to please an authors fancy
But it is the hum-drum chronicle
of ordinary people in an ordinary
American town, and things often
alas far too often-turn thus in life
and are beyond the power of a poor
country newspaperman with dandruf
on his collar and ink ground into his
fingers, to alter or detract
This is the great consolation; the