The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1931-01-30

father curved anxiously toward the
plate the moment after he had de-
posted the check beside the customer
and the tip was expected to fall.
1t was hungry, exacting family
that had to be fed, doctOred. clothed,
educated and housed. And at fifteen,
Carrie-Lee was mother there.
Yet, through it all, the determine
ton in her born back there in the
days when she had stood behind the
pantry door, never failed, never fall
tered, never tainted.
Curious, too, because in her father
there apparently fiared no sense of
the ignominy of. his work. 1t was
hard, yes. Exacting, yes. The hours
were long, but his main grievance had
not to do with the nature of the work,
but with the compensation. Tips were
not what they used to be. Prohibi-
"higher than a cooked hat" A man
had to hustle to make a living out Of
it, nowadays.
Try as she would, Carrie-Lee could
never get rise out of him where the
social aspect of it was concerned. APP
parently he was not conscious of the
servility of his kind of work. 1t was
just job. One had to make living
somehow. He had started in as bus
boy and his life work had just nat
urally gravitated to waiting at table.
AS a matter of fact, he considered
himself extremely fortunate. AS social
qualifications went in his world, he
belonged to the upper places of his
profession. For fifteen years he had
waited at table in the foremost restau-
rants in the city. Some of the fell
lows were still fiinging dishes in a
third-rate restaurant, to say nothing
of lunchrooms.
Still CarrieLee's lamp of decision
burned. 1t took her the first thirty
five years of her life to accomplish
what she set out to do. On her thirty
sixth birthday, with every one of her
brood of sisters and brothers, COM
portably accounted for, and her own
position as resident-buyer in a large
department store comfortably assured,
Carrie-Lee found herself with her
dream materialized.
Besides the four thousand dollar
savings account in the bank, she had
bought and paid for, that week,
five-rOOm bungalow in a new and eX-
tremely attractive New Jersey subdi-
vision that was within committing dis
lance of her work.
There was half an acre of land, a
Toulouse for her father to putter in,
brand new car in the One-car
garage. a garden with hose attach
ments and every device for her IA
Their to keep it comely; white We
randa with implanted furniture await
ing the touch of her fathers brush,
and countless small creature comforts
that had been installed with loving
care by Carrie-Lee.
Her father, who had grown old in
service and whose knees were bent
and whose eyes were dim with tired
ness, was almost unbearably pathetic
to her now. 1t seemed simply past his
understanding that here he was at
sixty-three, safely installed in this
lovely little home and in a position
to live his days in peace and comfort
and quiet.
To her enormous discomfort, the old
man tried so heart-breakingly to serve
Of fret he
in the new home he arose at dawn
so that he might carry her breakfast,
piping hot, to her room in order tina:
she could get up in leisurely fashion
and make her train to the city without
rushing. He wanted to serve. He
could not sit still through a meal. He
was constantly jumping up to pass
things, waiting on table, eager,
officious.
The stamp of service was upon him.
After a while Carrie-Lee realized
that it was no use. She even encour-
aged him to have his way, realizing
that by depriving him of an outlet for
his energies the tranquility and dig
nifty of his home life might soon pail.
Eventually that is just what did
happen.
One year after their installment in
the new home Carrie-Lee returned one
evening to find her father in state
of excitement and activity that she
had not observed in him for months
on end.
He was a person re-made. The old
light was back in his eyes. The round
shouldered stoop was there, but a new
Importance was in his carriage. He
had come back into his own. He had
succeeded in obtaining his old posi-
ton in the hotel where he had served
as waiter for so many years.
Looking at him, Carrie-Lee suddenly
realized the futility of the years of
her pain.
Waiting at table was not servility
to her father. 1t was service
And a sense of service can glorify
anything.