Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1921-11-23

that gets away with that! When l
think Of what you calmly take, year
after. year, for nothing, sometimes
wonder how You have the gall to do IT.
For nothing? Why, I've given up
everything to your comfort for nearly
seventeen years. My girlhood, N.Y."
'Girlhood You were mere child of
twenty four when married you we'll
call that girlhood stuff off. l can't
think Of anything you've ever given
up"
I've given up my time to keeping
house for you" she flared back at him.
You're rather exasperating person
to keep house for"
Kept house for me-" he sneered.
You've kept house for yourself. There
isn't blessed thing in this house that
m consulted about! There's nothing
done the. way want it There isn't
| comfortable thing in It for me except my
old morris chair, and you've put that in
the attic. It's taken about all i could
earn. to keep this darned place going,
and what ] get is a place to sleep and
a couple Of meals day. ] cant even
amuse myself as please. Bridge--bil.
liards--heavens You don't seem to be
satisfied unless you've got me tied In
the house,
I'm sure I'm always glad to go
motoring"
"In a closed car!'
! I'VE have the windows out In sum
mer--' She was crying now. Tears had
always been reserve force that brought
ntm to her side with n never mind
we 'll-forget- but this time he
growled in exasperated tones.
oh. quit quibbling! I'm sick and
tired Of it,"
They'd weathered many a worse do,
nestle storm. They might have sailed
| safely through this one IL an habtual
meddler hadn't tried to help them. She
| was an xasperatingly cheerful soul, she
! always telcphoncd Mt most inopportune
| times, and she tclephoncd at this par
ticular moment to ask why they hadn't
| started for her house. Charles declined
abruptly,
M dear boy. you cant! Bertha
accepted for you this noon. We really
| got up the party TO cheer her up. if
you must know it, She's blue as indigo.
And don't blame her. Pretty, please
| Come along. The Rawsons will stop by
for you in about five minutes"
lie was so angry that he couldn't
| trust himself to speak. 1t seemed to
him shockingly disloyal of Bertha to
have discussed their difference of opin-
ion with any one, particularly with an
habitual meddler. He shut himself in
his room until she had departed, pro-
testing, with the Rawsons. Faint
echoes Of her silly excuses about his
headache foated through the hallway ;
he was so tired of the sound of her
thin little voice that he felt he cOuldn {
endure another sound without cursing.
lie managed to stay in his room for
something like twenty minutes after her
departure. The rest of the house was
no better; its prettiness and emptiness
mocked him. 1t seemed exactly like
3erthn--smug, well ordered and soul
less. He decided to wax.
He rtrodc impatiently off into the
dark, hCtless. with the wind blowing
ngainst his set face. He wandered aim .
lessly He might have been tramping
an hour or two when he found himself
crossing the Dearborns' bit of lawn.
The wind was high now. the faint
smell OF wood fire vaguely comfort =
ing. A boyish figure in an atrocious
coat. with the inevitable dog at her
heels, was IN the shelter Of the porch.
Lo" she greeted him. blows
like storm rufIleS all our feathers. eh
Springs tickle jade don't see why we
love her! Whccc--ou--ee-ther The
rain now!" She latched the door be
hind them and leaned against It,
He helped her awkwardIy, her hair
tumbled. caught itself in the button Of
his sleeve. He trcmbled while She
loosed it; His eyes were so tragic they
startled her into spoken sympathy
How tired you are"' che murmured
impulslvely. Don't you want to sit
down and rest little--you look 50
Look tired am tired" his words
came tumbling In n throaty rush. Il IN
so tired of everything and everybody
that-I-well, I've about reached my
limit !"
He could have bitten his tongue be-
fore he had finished. He pressed his
hands against his graying temples and
shut his lips grimly.
In spite of his gray hair, in spite
of those tightened lips, there was some
| thing fundamentally boyish about him.
She managed to smile at him, but her
vision of how he must have looked when
he was very little boy. a chubby lit :
tie boy, who had played too hard and
who needed mothering.
"pm seventeen kinds Of cad, but
I've got to talk to somebody"
She pulled up an armchair before
the fire, put steadying hand on his
shoulder. hunchrd herself demurely on
Il hassock across the hearth from him
and c]aspcd her hands about her knees.
Light up, old dear. Get it out and
over with. Pretend I'm your favOrite
aunt"
II hHd one. y'know," he began duly.
Dear old soul named Deborah. Used
to run up every spring and see her for
II few days. Just oil my own. Bertha
never wanted to go. Went two years
ago to bury the little old lady Lord.
what hadn't the sweet soul done for me
and for Rertha--but Bertha wouldn' /
go. Bertha hates funerals. Never liked
Aunt Deborah"
The person on the hassock nodded
gravely. H.! no longer needed her. lie
just blundcred out his grievances
against life, poured out his overbur-
dened soul without even waiting to
see how she was taking his condolences.
She took them rather we'll. She lis
tened with mingling of pity and scorn.
She WAS honestly ashamed of herself
for listening. She wanted to comfort
and sCold all in the same breath. But
she did neither. She just let him
talk. And the burden Of 1t all was ;
"I'm tired Of it-sick of it! I've
been cheated out of everything I've
wanted in life. Riddles. Peace. An
evening pipe. A sailboat. A saddle
horse. An outdoor job. \ funny
rambling house somewhere on coun-
try hill. l get nothing but bridge
clubs and $40 trains and slip covers
for the library furniture. If I'm good
and careful. sometimes I'm allowed to
take Cunnin for n walk Ny life Is
bounded on the north. south east and
west by what Bertha must have and
what Bertha wants to do There isn't