San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1924-03-16

| TINS Week..
"Yes, to see what we've brought
her." fiared Helen.
whats eating you? Here I've
blowed you to two months in Europe,
and the moment we get back you set
up a howl about my family"
"Dear, don't mean to-" contrite-
ly. "But you don't know how diff
| cult Aunt Emily is. l wouldn't mind
occasionally-but it's two or three
times every year. And the more you
do, the more she expects. She never
appreciates anything"
"How about you? What about the
jelly she's always bringing us? What's
that thing she's made you? Don't see
you're so blamed appreciative.
| "Oh, that makes me wild She al
ways thinks few glasses of jelly and
some awful knitted thing pays for
week here! And she wants lamb chops
| every neal-you know what they cost.
She won't touch fsh-and she must
have gluten bread. Oh. you don't
knOw!"
snow, if you're to get anything
done, don't waste time bawling out
Aunt Emily"
In flaming resentment, Helen turned
back to her unpacking.
by George, Walter Hills married
What d'you know about that?
Tenth of last month";" scanning
wedding invitation. dorothy Craig.
Who's she?"
"Never heard of her," taking out
his London made-to-order dress shirts.
"Well, that means a present. A
good one, too"
"There's that silver sugar shaker
your Cousin Irene sent u.s." suggested
Helen hopefully. "We've never used
it"
"Now you don't work of any of
your secondhand junk on Walter; He
gets real present. What's this bill for
repairing. vacuum cleaner'?"
"Why / paid that before we sail
cd Give it to NELL call them up"
swish 1 could get down TO the Of
flee today. Some real mail there" ne
tossed aside handful of circulars"
"Dear. do get up your laundry"
taking a bundle from the trunk.
Mine Shirts" he counted. "and fiji
teen collars. Got any laundry slips?"
"Yes, but l don't know where they
are now. Make the list on anything"
"There's always paper and string
in the pantry" with forced patience.
Stalking kitchenward, moment
later he yelled back.
"Where dyou keep your string?'
fright where We always keep it
that box on the third shelf"
"Where'd you say the paper was?"
II didn't say, but it's always under
the sink"
He came back with some rumpled
newspaper and hopeless snarl of
string.
"There's plenty of nice brown paper
there and good string. Oh, just leave
it I'll do it up myself" exaspcrated
by his helplessness. "You can unstrap
thes steamer rugs and put them
away"
"Where d'you want 'em put?"
"On the top shelf of the hall closet,
where they're always kept. Get the
stepladder. l suppose you know where
that ISL"
Needn't be so darn sarcastic"
"You don't try to help. You just ask
foolish questions"
"Why don't you buy a decent step
ladder?" when he dragged out the con-
vertible kitchen chair. "This rickety
thing won't hold me-"
"Oh, leave it then. I'll put them up.
You can fix this trunk tray-that
strips coming off again. Just needs a
tack here. Fix it now-and it'll be
ready when we go again."
"Where d'you keep your tacks?"
"In the pantry tool box" with
wild desire to scream.
A moment later came his querulous
shout.
where bouts in the pantry? IL
don't see any tool box"
just then, STOPPING to take out the |
old framed English Sampler packed |
in the bottom of her trunk. with a |
smothered cry Helen snatched back her
hand.
A thin streak of crimson oozed from
her finger. !
The glass was broken. That old
black-and-gilt bordered glass that she
had hoped to bring back safely. /
II can't find that blooming tool
box" he had come to the door. "Eh?
What's the mater? Cut your finger?i
Let's see? Jove, that's too bad, Kit
ten," any obvious physical hurt al
ways enlisted his sympathy. Hurt
much?"
Helen, with feminine StolclSm 10
physical pain, was hardly conscious of
the hurt. But it was an excuse to sob |
out all her pent-up emotions.
The depression of getting home, the
"let down." that inevitably followed |
their trips! All that she had to do
and Warren's exasperating inability
to help. His maddening ignorance of
everything about the house. And above
oil Ep,,lrso JraalaI r;c,tf
But craving his sympathy, she let
unnerved her, while she found relief
in sobbing out her discouragement
over all the vexations that had clouded
her Homecoming.
Copyright. 1924. by Mabel Herbert Harper.
He Was Rght!
Little Jimmy. aged 9 years and