The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1929-12-27
LIVING IN
KITCHENS AND
CASTLES
"a mp D. J. Waleh.l

&c By D J. Walsh-l
YEAN'S blue eyes shone as she
opened the book OF samples.
Look, Donald, isn't this fabric
- lovely? / do want TO tx up the
kitchen and have II look like some
thing. Everything is old and drab."
Her husband shot a hungry glance
toward the table. Il had hard day
at the Office" he said. unconscious
that he uttered marital bromide,
"and / want my dinner. Put that stuff
away"
The young face clouded and. had
Donald cared to look, he'd have seen
that her mouth dropped like that Of
a scolded child. After all. at nine
teen a girl is scarcely more than that
and Jean had never had the brides
Joy of a new home. She had married
Donald for love and the necessities for
the wife who does her own work
would, she had vaguely supposed. nat
urally follow the honeymoon. Poor
Jean had never done anything more
strenuous than ride horseback and
dance and she soon discovered that
her husband had no intention of re-
placing the worn furnishings that his
mother had purchased as bride. my
mother selected everything here Ter
self and surely, Jean, you should be
satisfied I'm afraid you'll never be
the housekeeper that she was" he
sometimes ended.
The shabbiness was bad enough.
The slur of her attachments unendur-
able, or so she felt Donald was per
fectly able TO refurnish the suburban
cottage if he chose. He did not, how
ever, choose TO humor what he said
frankly was an extravagant within.
"Show me that you c;ln keep house
with what you haye-then talk about
this queer color scheme You rave
about. I never heard mother speak of
having a turquoise blue dishpan or
blue double boiler. Oatmeal tastes
good no matter whether it's put in
blue pan or one of pink. Fads ii is,
not sense"
The question Of dainty brightness
became an obsesSion with Jean and
she skimped her work shamelessly
The old sink grew accustomed to a
load of sOiled dishes and the tin dish
pan grew more and more battered
from Joan's reckless handling. The
question of acquiring of some yards
of turquoise fabric to cover the SCARED
table and cupboards brought the fam
lily jar to a climax The material was
surprisingly inexpensive. Jean held
her sample against the dubious wood
of the corner cupboard and, closing
her long-lashed blue eyes. dreamed
Of gay kitchen to match the bit of
blue
"Uncle Jim wrote that he'd take me
on his trip to Scotland if you could
spare me. He'll come back on the re-
turn trip Of the Empress. And" Jean
cried recklessly as she saw the famil-
lar negative shake of the sandy herd
opposite. I'm going. Going, do yeu
hear? Why should / stay here and
spoil my hands when / could be see
L
look at it by moonlight Uncle Jim
and 1 are kindred spirits. He loves
poetry and ocean trips and things like
/ do"
Donald cast a grim look down at
his plate. His mouth was set in a
stubborn line that matched the pink,
primmed lips of Jean. Once Jeans
mouth had seemed made for laughter.
but the misunderstanding and the
bleak atmosphere of the faded old
home had changed her. She felt as
though Donald's mother still lived. in
spirit, in that house and that that
model housekeeper thoroughly disap-
proved Of the tired little bit of
modernity who longed for a gay and
suitable environment.
Go. If you wish" the words shot
out abruptly; I've felt lately that you
were not satisfied"
1t wasn't until she had been away
from home for three days that she be
gan to regret her hasty departure
Her uncle had been Unexpectedly de-
tanned in Chicago and Jean, resentful
of her husbands lack of argument
against her fitting, had not notified
Donald Of her unexpected stay ar the
Congress Donald had put her in
taxi to go to the station, where she
would meet her Uncle Jim and had
then hurried of TO his Office "As
though she had told herself fercely.
she were glad TO be rid of me- She
had scarcely glanced at the cluster of
spicy carnations he had bought for
her-had been ungracious when he
handed her the latest Galsworthy
book to read on her trip. "As though
/ wanted TO read anything to improve
my style" she had reflected. Jean
sometimes wrote poetry which Donald
smiled at. ANY way the title fits the
case for Swan Song is what I'd sing
if l felt ike singing anything. I'd
have liked something frothier"
But Chicago without the quiet but
companionable Donald seemed a des-
ert TO the spoiled girl and even the
evenings of theaters and concerts had
not conseled her. Her Uncle Jim had
VII 0II nHs