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The Family
_ j
THE DAY AFTER.
She bad been on* of those beautiful
rirls willowy of figure. golden of hair.
pink of cheek with clear srray eyes and
a sweet. dimpled chin.
She had married early. At thirty-nine
the sheen of the golden hair was gone,
her figure had iost its erectness, her
color was faded Now there was a piti
fui stoop in the shoulders from burdens
carried while too young, and there were
gray threads, many of them, in her still
abundant locks But still there the same
beautiful clear eyes and the sweet
graciousness that had ever character
imc ner was. n ao^iuiiiE, ujvre unciunted.
It had been a struggle, this life of hers,
with this husband she had chosen. There
had been poverty and hardships and
many sicknesses, and he was not one of
those chivalrous, thoughtful men. He
loved her, of course, but somehow he
never told her of it. He was too engrossed
in his own affairs to remember
that she perhaps might like to be remembered
on anniversaries and at
Christmas time. He had never proposed
a holiday, and somehow she grew not to
expect it.
But hers had always been a family to
remember the birthdays. As far back
as she could remember she could recall
her mother as saying, "Now, to-day is
my little daughter s birthday. She must
be good and happy, and mother will try
to make it a day to be remembered "
And mother always had. all through her
life until her hands were folded in her
last long sleep.
There was still at the old home the
aged father and a young married sister.
"Ttomorrow is Elizabeth's birthday,"
said Muriel, the young married sister,
the night before. "I'm going out there
to see her. Haven't you a birthday
present for her?"
The old -father looked up. "How fond
your mother was of birthdays!" be said
thoughtfully. Then he added, "How
would some pretty china do? To think
of Elizabeth being thirty-nine, and the
mother of a family! She was such a
pretty baby?our first. Yes, get her the
china, Muriel, and of the finest. The
way has not been always easy for my
little girl."
Men*;a yo.i.y 10 seria nowers, saia
Muriel, "ahd I've h tine birthday cake to
go with the Milk waist I've made her."
Klizabetb Wayland rose on her tbirtynlnth
birthday with a little flutter of her
heart. Huppose ue should remember and
speak of it, after all, this husband of
hers. Very carefully did she prepare an
especially nice breakfast, but be, engrossed
in bis paper, did not apparently
notice It. Afor he ha<l eaten, he put on
bis bat an<1 coat, bade her bla usual
careless good-bye and went to his office.
"He has forgotten," she thought, as
she watched blm walk to the car. "Ab,
-IE PRESBYTERIAN OF THE SOXJ
well, 1 won't speak of It." But somehow
that birthday was not going to pass unnoticed.
Happy birthday, mother!" sc.id Beatrice.
her oldest, coming down half an
hour later and handing her a pretty belt.
"Happy birthday!" exclaimed good
Mrs. Starbird. her next-door neighbor.
bringing in a beautiful tray cloth.
And then the postman brought her a
birthday greeting in the shape of a long
letter from her old school friend telling
her all the news of her dear old home
town.
"To think that Mary Morris remembered
it was my birthday!" she ex
claimed happily.
By eleven good old Uncle Hiram, who
lived on the next street, came puffing in.
"Your Aunt Lucy knew it was your
birthday and she sent this," said the old
gentleman, handing her a bundle. "1
n our- u iui fiui e?erj one eise s
birthday she'd remember^ yours. You
always was her favorite."
The something proved to be a handsome
sofa pillow, ornamented and enriched
by Aunt Lucy's most beautiful
stitches.
"My! it's beautiful, Uncle Hiram!"
cried Elizabeth, flushing with pleasure.
' And just what I wanted."
In the early afternoon Muriel came
over. She kissed her oldest sister lovingly.
"A happy birthday to the best sister
in the world," p.he said.
Just then a man drove up.
"Father sent you up a set of china,"
she added, "and, dear me, here are the
flowers." Sne opened the door to receive
the box. It was full of pink carnations.
"Elizabeth," she said, "Belle sent
these with best wishes for a happy birthday."
"Now, I'm going to stay to supper.
Father, too, is coming over, and you are
to wear this silk waist in honor of the
occasion. This is my gift."
She arranged her sister's hair, her
still beautiful hair, though so thickly
sprinkled with gray, slipped on the silk
waist, fastened it and adjusted her skirt
Then she bade her look. "You ought to
have a pretty brooch," she said, "to set
It off."
It fitted to perfection, and the little
pirik stripe in it brought a tinge of color
to the pale cheeks.
"You look as pretty as a rose," said
Muriel fondly. "Now, Beatrice and 1
are going to get supper. I forgot to tell
you that Horace ordered you some ice
cream. He sends bis love and wishes
be could come, too."
Horace was her brother.
Her husband came home at the usual
time that night, but the house was quite
illuminated. The table was set beautifully
with the new china, with the carnations
as a centerpiece, and there was
his wife in her "silk attire," sitting
quietly with her father. There was
chatting and laughter in the kitchen.
He looked eurprieed. Just then
Muriel came Jq.
[TH. August 25, 1909.
"Didn't you know?" she asked. "Why,
we're celebrating Elizabeth's birthday."
The supper was perfect, the birthday
cake was all it claimed to be, and there
was ice cream and to spare for everybody.
But Elizabeth's husband was unusually
silent. He looked at his wife more
than once. How sweet she was! Howgood
she had alwavs hppn' Mr, -
and tender! And he? He who had
wooed so tempestuously, loved so ardently,
had forgotten?forgotten even
her birthday.
After the guests were gone, the children
in bed, he went over to her. She
was sitting in her favorite low chair.
"Elizabeth," he said. "I forgot?"
But Elizabeth only smiled.
I knew you had," she answered. And
then, all at once, he seemed to realize
that his careless conduct of so many
years had done its work. She did not
expect anything of him. His neglect,
his thoughtlessness of such Iouk stand
iug had dulled the keenness of her feelings
that she could look and speak quite
calmly of his lack of care. No, she did
not expect anything of him.
Why should she?
And then recollections came trooping
back and he remembered?remembered
his wooing and his promise and her
bright beauty. The beauty was dimmed
now through servitude to him. The bur
den she had carried, the children she
had borne him, the poverty and disappointments
and the toil. And yet
through it all how sweet, how dear, how
unselfish she had ever been! The next
morning he took his eldest daughter
aside.
"Beatrice," he said, "yesterday was
your mother's birthday. I did not give
her anything. 1 forgot it. But yesterday
J made a handsome sum of money,
and to-day I'm going to buy her a handsome
present. Have her put on that silk
waist again, will you, and get something
nice for supper." And Beatrice promised.
He went straight to her when he
reached home,
"Dearest," he said, "yesterday was
your birthday. You can't think how I
felt when I saw your father and sister
with their gifts, to think I had none,
and, though it is the day after, you will
accept, my love, this?" And then he
fastened in the lace at her throat a
beautiful brooch of pearls?the loveliest;
f'ftut I lout thlnir uKo ti A
?,HMiB 0UW IIUU c?ci nuuwil.
"Oh!" cried Elizabeth, flushing into her
old-time beauty, "and you remembered!"
Her husband put his arms about her.
' On the day after," he corrected, smilingly.
"No, I'm not going to make any
rash promises, dearest. You know my
careless ways of old, but through It all
I've never forgotten to love my wife.
Shall we begin fiirain on th? ftnv nfn-r"'
Hut Elizabeth only smiled ?her wonderful,
rare smile, and he knew then and
forever how she loved him.?The Advocate.