Year: 1870

length, but could not eat Mr.. Thompson
finished his dinner in silence.


He was watching his wife's face, ther'
was something in it he did not understand
"A kind of patient, hopeless look, as i
she no longer cared to struggle onward
The old mulberry ware did look dingy OF
the snowy white tablecloth; almost to,
bad for these chums of his to sit down to
He wondered he had never thought so be
fore. Robert Thompson grew thought
full.


He passed into the kitchen when they
were going out again. How hot ant
sitting it felt with that big fire-as bad a.
the south meadow. His wife had been il
it cooking; that must have made her fac,
scarlet Indoors was not so comfortable
a place after all, if you had hot work to do
was the idea that fitted through his mind
Aud perhaps the work was over. much 70.
his wife, who at the best was but delicate
woman.


A fresh, cool breeze had sprung W
from the south, as he went out, walking
slowly, but the sun was burning hot still
Robert Thompson waited to wipe his brows
and in that moment the voices of his com
rades came toward him from the other side
Of the hedge, where they stood in the little
shade it cast.


Il never pitied woman so much in
my life," quoth one of them. "She works
like slave, and does not even get thank
ye' for it from Thompson. He's good
fellow, and as strong as a horse himself
he thinks, I suppose, women must be the
same"


eyes, Bob's sterling good fellow, but
Jane Lawrence made mistake when she
said yes to his asking" replied the other
{" She wasn't cut out for a farmers wife
especially one who keeps his folks to il
like Thompson does. She's delicate and
sensitive; any lady but her would have
turned long ago, and bid him give he,
proper help. He won't make his money
out of her many years if he doesn't take
better care of her; she'll run down fast
Awfully changed she is-looks as faded as
the old house rooms, and they have not
seen a coat Of paint since grandfather
Thompson's day."


"Ah, she'd better have taken Joe Burn
ham. The Lawrences used to have things
nice in their home, and she'd have got
'em so still if she had married Joe. His
wife has just gone out in her pony shay.
I say, Jones, I wonder whether Thomp-
sons wife was ever sorry?"


Was she? The unconscious comments
of these, his warm friends, came rushing
down on Robert Thompsou's heart and
brain like bolt of fire. That she rejected
Burnham for him he knew, when she came
home to the old homestead and took care
of his invalid mother. Tenderly she did
it, too. And could she be wearing out her
life by hard work for hiln-she, the moth
er of his boys she, whom he loved SO we'll,
for all his churlishness? Robert Thomp-
son stole away; he could not longer bear
his thoughts, and he felt that he could al
most kill himself for his heedlessness.


The afternoon wore on towards night.
Mrs. Thompson had finished her indoor
work, and was going in with an armfull Of
of dry clothes which she had taken from
the line, when the sound Of wheels made
her look around.


GIVE brought that white ware, Mrs.
Thompson" said the brisk voice of Grover,
as he sprang from the cart, lifting down
carefully large hamper.


"But didn't order it, Mr.. Grover"
she rejoined in rather frightened voice.


"The master did, though. Mr.. T. came
down this afternoon and said the things
were to come up to you at once. There's
the dinner set you admired, and the tea set
as we'll. Where shall put them 7"


Bring them in, please" she answered
rather family. He did SO, and then drove
of"


Mrs. Thompson sat down by the new
dishes ard cried as if her heart was break
ing. They were magical tears, too, for
they washed all the WEAKNESS and dispair
from her face, and the shadow from her
eyes and heart. She forgot that she was
tired, or that the day was hot; shs only
thought how kind Robert was, and what q
wicked woman she had been in saying to
herself in her temper that she'd rather
have had Squire Buruham. Then she uu'
packed the treasure, pulling them out from