The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1937-07-02
Moving Day =

mother" he said. "And when once you
things"
MIS-. HamiIl regarded her son
strange. She admitted in her soul, as
she SI,f' u Usually ia di ID that that be &c we %as u rignsm
John Junior was not merely her
youngest, he was the only one OF her
children who still lived. Perhaps that
was why, though he was now both
grown up and successful, ne was put
q aI Lad ci IN her an eyes scy Hs i 90 Sa M very tre 8
thought-everything about him was
crisp and fresh and boyish. Naturally
he'd feel the way he did about for
getting shabby furniture. His life was
made up Of new, bright things; new,
shiny things. Even his wife was bright
and shiny-all the way from the per
tips Of her patent leather slippers.
She guessed she'd have q permanent
wave, too, Mrs. Hamill told herself,
as O as she was settled in the new
apartment; and she'd give UP wearing
carpet slippers. One could get used to
patent leather pumps # one tried;
at last, stilling the words that begged
to be spoken you're right. I'll leave
the worn things behind me-"
But on this moving day, as she went
around the Don checking over those
objects she was leaving, the little ghosts
ghosts that dared to come before
only in the night.were very close.
There was, for instance, the dining
room set. Walnut and heavily carved,
with a massive table.
wen get it big" John, her husband,
had said in reference to the table,
because of the family we may be hay
ing" Mrs. Hamill had been a bride
the smart salesman's smoker.
The chest was big too. In those days
Women-even women who didn't ave
much money-came to their husbands
with a real supply Of linens: A dozen
of this, two dozen of that. Nowadays,
Mrs. Hamill shifted, women made out
with bridge sets, and a few doilies-
doilies, indeed!-for company.
She pulled open n of the drawers
for her linens (such as were Left were
already packed into a trunk-but the
very emptiness of the drawers suggested
the erstwhile fullness of the life she
was leaving. In this special drawer had
been the best things, the double da-
mask cloths and the fine scarfs.
In the upper top drawer, there'd
been the bibS n the napkin rings.
Serena, John Jr.'s wife, said folk didn't
use napkin rings any. more; that fresh
napkins, at each meal, were the proper
thing. But what did women do when
they had three children and a husband
and took care of their washing?
Three children-and John Jr. was
the only one left! Closing the drawers
of the chest softly so as not to awaken
any more memories, Mrs. Hamill went
wandering into the kitchen. It was
beside that kitchen table-she wasn't
taking that, either-that her first
born, Thomas, used to sit in-his high
chair-while she and his father had
their breakfasts, and their early teas.
Sally had come along almost before
Tom had outgrown the high chair .
hadn't lived TO come back Sally?
Mrs. Hamill always thought of Sally's
life as measured. in summers. Sally's
golden hair and her blue eyes were
like summer sunshine and Summer
heavens.
Before long the moving men would
be drawing up their van in front. of
the door. Mrs. Hamill walked out of
the kitchen-walked slowly-and made
her way through the passage to the
front hall. There in the hall stood the
hat rack, desolate and untenanted.
She wasn't taking that, either-Serena
said nobody used hat racks in this day
get her a Chippendale table to stand in
what was called the foyer of the new
place. Well, for all the hats and coats
there'd be, a spindly-legged table would