The Monmouth inquirer. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1865-1933, 1926-09-30
AIMS
RECOVERY
oopyrisht the Frank A Munaav Company.
BY Harriet Gaylord.

NCe--A-NS
back piazza and sat down on the
steps, hopping the perspiration from
his weak, good-natured face. That
last log Of wood had been knotty and
obstinate, and he had earned a rest
from his labors. Through the screen
door of the kitchen sounded the
twangy voices of the ladies sewing So
ciety assembled in noisy session.
Suddenly his own name shriIled on
his ears out Of the discord.
Il see We got Joe Parsons splittin'
up yer wood, Mis- Perry"
That was the voice Of Sue Ransom,
the postmaster's wife.
"Yaas. feel sort O. sorry fur joe"
''Waal. don't. Joe's fool, or he'd
got onter AIMS game long ago. She's
jcst plumb lazy. an that's all ats the
matter TIL her. She cd git up fast
enough ef she wanted ter. That
chump of a Joe, he jest does her work
AN his'n, an worships the groun' she
walks onI"
bed she lies on d be nearer the
truth" interposed a voice he did not
recognize.
During the laughter which followed
this witticism, Joe slipped off the
steps and again tackled his wood pile.
Thought was not his long suit. but to-
day he accomplished wonders along
the line suggested by the. chance
words he had overheard. That eve
ming, as ne slouched homeward, he
chuckled audibly to himself.
"Waal. Ann, dRylin', how We ben ter.
day-any better?" he asked, entering
the bedroom of the little three-room
cottage to which he mad brought his
bride ten years ago.
"Jes, middlin', joe jes' middlin'."
Ann was a plump, good-loolzing
blonde, suggesting little of the invalid
as she lay propped up In bed with a
paper-covered novel lying on the
patchwork quilt which served as a
Counterpart. Joe. who had stopped
dn the kitchen for an anticipatory
scrubbing, stopped over to kiss his
wife.
"Ye're jest as poorly as ever. Ann"
he said adoringly, as he lifted her
long yellow braid and gazed at it with
wonder in his eyes. Il worship the
ground we walk on-no, the bed We
lie on d be nearer the truth"
Joe roared with laughter as If the
witticism were his own.
"Joe, ye're SO rough" sighed Ann.
looking longingly at her novel and
the decreasing light outside. "rm
hungry. Dye think ye cd make cream
toast fur support Pears like It ID
taste real good ternight."
''I guess so, darlin'. Let me see--
It's six years, amt 1t, sence We fell on
the ice an hurt yer spinner"
Seven year come next March," she
answered resignedly.
Amt We no better, dearie7 Don't
the doctor think ven be gittin' up
soon an goin' ter fairs an meetin's
an SEWN soci'tfesf"
Some day, guess" She was i'm
patient now. "But not yit, MY back
aches me 30 Joe, I'm awful hun
gry!"
so ye be dearte; so ye be! I'll git
supper as quick as ever / kin eff yen
Jest give me one good hiss an hug
fust"
AIMS part in the embrace was pas
sive rather than reciprocal. but Joe
seemed satisfied as he trotted off to
his culinary labors, leaving his inva-
lid wife absorbed in the love affairs
of Lady Wihelmina Geraldine Mont
gomery.
Joe's unwonted. efforts along the
thinking line bore no fruit until mid,
night was PASSED. Ann was sleeping
soundly by his side. Suddenly she
grew dreamily conscious that the bed
was no longer comfortable retreat
from the cares and worries of life;
and in another minute she was wide
awake.
-'Massy sake. Joe, what's the mat
ter? Is't an earthQuake?"
But Joe made no answer except to
roll over and over and groan unintel-
ngibly.
"Joey, Joey" she begged, sur the
lands sake, tell me what's the mat
teri"
Joe. who had never had an hours
ILLNESS In his life. chuckled and
groaned and groaned and chuckled.
thrashing about like a whale In the
darkness. 1t was fully seven years
since she had called him Joey, and he
felt drunk with unaccustomed power.
At last, from the upheaval of her
quiet, invalid world. she distinguished
these CALCULATIONS:
"Git me somethin ter stop this
paint I'm goin' ter die! I'm goin'
ter die!"
"Oh, don't diei Don't die. Joeyl"
she walled "Darlin'. darlin'. don't
die! oh, tell me what ter del"
ssWhisky n hot waterI" he
groaned. "whiskey n hot waterl
Quickl Quick! oh, my head. my
headi"
AS he thrashed near the middle of
the bed. she was, pitched dangerously
near the edge she who had hardly
put foot on the floor for SIX yearsl
"Oh, can'ti can't walkl" she