Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-06-06
THE EVENING STORY

| the table and reached for the milk
pitcher and butter plate preparatory
to taking them down into the cool
cellar, That was another thing.
Henry never felt the need of an ice
house. The spring water which
| flower constantly into the big trough
| in the barn was sufficiently cold to
cool the cans of milk. He saw no
| necessity for . refrigerator, even
though il would have saved his wife
an endless amount of steps. Cula
made her way toward the cellar, but
| she felt suddenly old and shaken,
her head ached and her eyes smarted
with disappointed tears. so II was no
wonder that she missed her 1ootlng
on the dimly lighted stairs and
landed in a little crumpled heap al
the bottom.
Cula broke no bones. but she was
so badly shaken up that she had to
remain in bed for several Gays, and
while she lay racked with PAIN. she
| thought long and earnestly ABOUT
| Henry, especially as he was snow
| ing himself to be both sympathetic
and agreeable.
Don't you worry about a thing.
| Cula," he urged. iii look after
everything. I'd get hired girl only
I think it's going to be real fun put
tering around the house. It'll be a
nice, restful change for me and give
me a chance to get rested before
my fall work begins"
Get rested! Puttering around the
house and getting rested! Now here
was her chance to let Henry have
a full lesson in what woman's
work really was like, especially
when. 1t was in a kitchen devoid of
every convenience. She never
WINGED when she heard crash and
suspected that the yellow mixing
bowl had fallen from her husband
clumsy hands. She never mentioned
the lamps, and all went well until
the oil had burned out of every lamp
and the chimneys to Henry's harm
lanterns had become so blackened
with smoke that he could scarcely
find his way by their light to feed
his stock.
One of the things that made
Henry's homework hard was that
he used to pull up all the water in
theI bucket and had to make fire.
quent trips to the barn for water
with which to prime the pump. Cula
thought she would go wild listening
to that rusty squeak squawk as
Henry wrestled with the old pump.
Cula was in bed ten days and her
heart yearned over her big, clumsy
husband. She noticed whenever he
came to bring her drink or bite
to eat that he had added rag or
bit of sticking plaster TO some fresh
burn or cut received in his attempts
at Homework. But he was game
and said nothing.
One day Cula felt well enough to
be helped to q place on the old
couch in the sitting room, and by
turning her head she could get
glimpse out into the kitchen. She
had to press her hand tightly over
her mouth to suppress scream. or
all the dirty places in the world
surely that kitchen was the dirtiest
1t spoke mutely of the struggle
Henry had had "puttering around"
doing homework. Cula was ready
to cry, sick and weak as she felt.
She wondered if she would ever be
able to get all that dirt cleaned out
She wondered If that long row of
dirty lamps with their dark brown
chimneys could ever be cleaned.
Surely the old pump would exact toll
of her; and that dirt meant hours
of back breaking work at the ham
die. She had just turned her face
to the wall to indulge in good cry
when Henry came into the room.
II guess, Cula," he said, shame
facedly, you won't think I'm much
of a housekeeper, but I've done my
best. Old Mrs. Grant is coming to-
tonight to stay and help with the
work, and Monday the men are COM
ing from town to wire the house and
barn for electric lights. Tomorrow
the plumbers will connect the water
up in the kitchen and"
But the tears that had been gather
ing began to spill over and run down
Cula's cheeks. At the sight CT them
Henry fed.
"PIague it ALL" Cula heard him
humble, as he fed. II can't stand
tears nohow. But by cracky, that
amt all I'm going to do for her
no, not half, for my Cula's one wo-
man in q thousand:
1917