The Monmouth inquirer. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1865-1933, 1924-04-24
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Empty Perambulator
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#The utter desolation Of it all! Emily
Brentford sat before an untidy hearth
staring at the ashes as they fell from
the CRATE.
d why couldn't / be let keep him."
she moaned; che was just everything
to me-" =
There was the pity of it. Her
child, the only one, had absorbed all
the dove of her heart. 1t was pitiful
and human; the child that should
! have been the link between them
kept them further apart each day.
And death had refused to spare 1t.
The day had been hard in the mill.
Jim Brentford looked at his unlighted
house, and his heart sank within
him. al
Jim fitted his key into the latch.
4,sLass, are you there" he called
out ."Eh, but I'm tired"
There was no answer, and he
stumbled along the unlighted pas
sage. Jim had caught the habit
lately of calling in at the Red Lion
on his way home, and his steps were
not steady.
He knocked against child's per-
ambulator and with something like
an oath be sent it spinning toward
i the kitchen door. Emily. with her
hair disheveled and her eyes red
with weeping, faced him, already
ashamed of his Impotence.
"Tm a clumsy BRUTE" he said.
'Here, let me put this back"
She snatched the handle out of his
hand and wheeled it to its accus-
toned place.
Don't touch it," she said to him.
ut doesn't mean anything to you.'
They looked at each other-the
mans eyes were sad. Love had
been with them such little slime
ago.
There was just moment of
silence, and then the little house
was shaken by the banging of the
front door. Jim Brentford had gone
searching for forgetfulness at the
Red Lion.
Six months had passed away, and
IL the Brentford household things
had gone from bad to worse.
1t was July. On tie moor above
Bartheldy the hyacinths carpetel the
turf-sweet blue flowers Of hope.
Emily had not found her way to the
moor this year. She had gathered
the hyacinths for little chubby hands
to hold once; now her own arms
were as empty as her heart The
woman next door came in sometimes
to cheer her up and to get ner help
with her own sewing.
you've heard about Alice" she
said.
mo, I haven't" said Emily.
"What's got herr"
"The river got her." said Mrs. Les
ter tersely. Her husband went off
with lass from t'other side O. the
moor-and you know what silly
Alice was over him. Praise the Lord
for a good husband, I says; one as
brings you his wages regular. They
found her down by the mill pond,
and the inquest's tomorrow and
what's to become O. the kid the Lord
knows"
She gathered her sewing into
bundle, and Emily stood watching
her. A cotton reel had fallen to the
floor, and she picked it up.
"Where did you say Alice's baby
was?" she said.
"At her mothers. There's enough
children in that house; they don't
want i'm there, poor little mite"
They were working late at the mill
this week. Jim Brentford did not
frd his way home until nearly 6
o'clock. Someone was singing in the
kitchen. There was a laugh and an
inarticulate murmuring. Jim walked
on tiptoe to the door.
He looked in wonderment at the
Transformation of his home. The
kitchen was spotless. And Emily,
with her hair brushed until it shone
again, walked up and down the room
grooming baby song to child in
her arms.
She turned and saw him. There
was a new light in her eyes.
"She's only lent me for the after
noon," she said: 'But Jim, don't l
wish she could stay."
L -
meet here. Jim gathered his wife
and the tiny growing burden of hui
mainly in his arms.
Where did she come from?" he
said. "And why shouldn't she stay,
my lass? I'd welcome anything that
would put contentment into your
heart again."
His voice broke little; they had
gone through a bad time. Emily