Shoshone journal., 1923-06-15

sand years old, they wore on her 81
they upset 30 the perfect order of h
wonderfully kept house. And yet tn,
did their best not to wear on her.
keeping away from her as much ;
| possible. They never went home fro
school until it was actually suppe
time, and always played In our var,
not their own.
III The result was that Aunt Emily wa
left quite to herself in Sahara des
ert OF lonely housekeeping and des
| perate economies with the poor Dit
| tance which was all that Uncl
Charles could earn. Her thin fac,
grew grim and dark, as she mendet
and patched and turned and dyed ant
performed miracles on tough necks OF
mutton and cheap curtain materials
All of 1t she did with superlative skill
but burning and raging lnwardly (and
many times not so very inwardly)
against the necessity Of doing it at all,
and crying out bitterly with many fits
or hysterical tears that she was killing
herself for her family, and nobody
gave her bit of credit for it.
Oh, yes, everybody lodged when
Aunt Emily hove In view, father as
much as the rest, in spite Of all his ex-
tenuations. Whenever we did have to
so there, on unavoidable errands we
children would stand in the doorway.
and assure her yolubly that we
couldn't come In, because our feet
were muddy. This brought about the
desired result of being told severely
to hurry along then, and not get the
whole house cold, with that door stand
Ing open.
Then came the climax In their mis- |
fortunes, as If they were not already
sufficiently singled out for misery.
Uncle Charles fell on the stairs, and
hurt himself terribly, threw several
vertebrae out of position, l believe, so
that he lay almost wholly paralyzed
from the waist down. And not penny
OF savings to pay the doctor, not even
for the grocer's bill at the end of the
month. 1t was disaster absolute black.
rreparable disaster. Aunt Emily was
stunned into silence, a dreadful gray
silence, as of some one whose grudge
against fate is rising to mania. I re-
member hearing father say to mother.
I1ter he came back from his turn at =
pending night of care for Uncle
'harles, I'm afraid of the woman. I
ositively am. She looks as though I
ned go mad" "Well, it's not out of
ympathy for her poor husband, that's =
ure,' mother answered acidly.
What do you suppose was the result
| that terrific accumulation of emo a
on In Aunt Emily? What was the =
lomentous, tremendous decision to :
each which, in 1885, it was necessary y
II her to rise to that pitch of frenzy? "
'hy nothing more nor less than this u
and in those days it was de- ~
sion both momentous and tremen- u
'us Tor any married woman with chill VI
ZEN she put on her bonnet, ~
IS, bonnet 1t was In the last days of ie'
'nnets, when only young girls wore 81
IT'S and marched down town ie'
ask for work in Emery's Emporium. ni'
She got 1t, of course. Even if IT had Do
{ been Aunt Emily, the humane head A.,
the firm would have felt under some 40.
legation to the wife of faithful en-
'yee of such long standing. And in 60
uition to this, 1t was Aunt Emily ~,
OF course she got what she ,S,,'
mt after. piu
she wos n4 goo
ohe was put well, | don't Wit
ow that | ever heard Just In what tha
all corner she was put at first as ~ ~
experiment; something easy and tha
lpe to suit her supposed inexperi- c,ot
e or business and her supposed ,s
mime incapacity for it. The life at on
ne was organized somehow, any ;
', as best they could with different s,..-
sins taking turns to go in and helm 49,
with the work. Uncle Charles did ,,es
suifer any pain, and was quite shS
self as far as his head was CON
led. his body like log in the bed. e. ~
his eyes bright, his fine sensitive ona
pale, but calm and philosophic as H.,
ays. He was quite able to direct ss'
cod than,s.,,. eeu anu un- her.
'eN thehoeiNSS anu studied their | o,.,.
ons and learned to do the house 80. 49,.
<. pens
r. Pari:
Uncle Charles got better so that veor,
ould sit up in bed, things ran more reser
o0u was moved down partr
corner of the dining room. where
| wort u,,h h,s ''0iien' he Char
i'''hANo hoN, Wulcn - hi.
ad always loved to do. and thev ~ ni'
never still from morning mi yuS' ~
I. My father gave him n wheeled : "ue'
winch was always piled with - -
> done or to be done. He did all aope. 's
nending and darnlng aud he and pu''io pa
,ork togo,hor M ''"I ,ue Atch- with
INT their school books TO their "a'ie' -,
RS bedside. and did" their los. LAR
there. TO a running accompanl. 10y /.
OF such sympathetic. helpful com. ~ ''s =
from him. as they'd meyer ','' ~
before BY mld-wlnter OF fbat l'''' >
Uncle Charles was well enoucb ,''s'l'h