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Her f a p
E&jel Augusta Cpok
U~~35?2>^ —J
CoiWrlJKl. 1921. Wntorn New*ptprr Union
■ IVK. minutes to next year,”
laughed Bob, looking at his
wntcli, “Anil Mother is the
only one not to have made
a 'New -Year’s resolution!”
• • • The family* consisting of
Mother, her son, Bob, the provider of
the family; Daisy, the successful sec
retary-; and Pink and Dot, high school
girls, were sitting up'to watch the old
year out.' And the girls and Bob were
whiling away the time-; by teasing
Mot her, w,[io was such a darling to
toast*; her cheeks always got so pink
nnd iter blue eyes so bright. And now
Mas no exception. She was tremu
lous with . self-consciousness and awe
ot tier grpwnup children who were,
she thought, so much cleverer than
she had ever dreamed of being.
“Weil, I have uiude'a resolution Just
the same.” site said, hesitatingly now.
“Only it's not so important and far
reaehing as all yours, it'll be Just as
hard to, keep, however, even though it
does seetu so small."
“Tell t us, Mother. When a saint
turns over a leaf it must be a back
ward leaf, mustn’t it? Don’t begin
to turn - backward from pertectton,
Mother-ours."
Bob put his strong, clever hand on
Mother’s arm as he spoke, lie was
“Well, I Have Made a Resolution Just
the Same.”
not teasing now, in spite of his smil
ing eyes. It was all affectionate earn
est. “Out with it, Mother."
“Well, it’s only this: I’m not go
ing to hate getting up early to get
breakfast anymore. I’m going to do
It gladly, willingly, it’s always been
something like a sin on my con
science that I’ve grudged; yes. for
years and years, grudged early rising
and poking down Into the kitchen to
start the fire and tlie breakfast. Why,
I almost make faces at the pantry
shelves, and I haveu’t even a kind
word for the cat. But I’ve been read-
1 ing in a book that all that is wasted
emotion. I’ve only to say over and
over to myself as I drop to sleep at
night—‘l’ll like getting breakfast to
morrow, I’ll like getting breakfast to
morrow’ —and it will come true. Get
ting up will come lots easier, and after
a few mornings more I will actually
like It.”
Bob laughed, for the most adoring
of sons may have his blind spot. But
Daisy and Pink and Dot were girls,
and they, did not laugh. They blushed
while their startled eyes sought one
another’s. But not until the Grand
father’s clock in the hall had run
twelve silver bells and Mother had
gone to bed did speech follow that
first confusion of their glances.
“Just to think ! Poor Mumsie! And
1 never gave it a thought before in
my life. Simply took for granted she’d
get tlie breakfast. ’Cause she always
did when we were kiddies, I suppose,”
That was Palsy.
Pink cried, “That’s no reason why
she should now. Three great husks
like us!”
Dot echoed, “Yes, please tell me why
she should get up at six-thirty every
morning and go poking down into
that cold kitchen to start the fire while
we three great girls snuggle deeper
into our warm fieds and doze again!”
So the three big girls cried out
against themselves and added a P. S.
to their former resolutions. And while
they talked excitedly with lowered
voices, Mother Just over their heads
in her bedroom was lying back on
her pilibws, her eyes shut, whispering
to herself over and over —“I shall like
getting breakfast tomorrow, I shall
like getting breakfast tomorrow.”
And very soon Mother fell asleep t.>
dream that it was already morning
and she was getting up. That night
in her dreams she cooked, breakfast
forty times. For she was forever Mak
ing up and then dropping off again in
to the same dream.
Because Mother had such a restless
night of it with her dreams of break
fast-getting, and because, too, she had
stayed up until past midnight the
night before, New Year's dawn did not
wake her. When she finally did open
tier eyes the sunlight on her counter
pane told her ns plain ns a clock that
It was eight o’clock and that Bob and
the girls must have overslept, too.
'Twns a mercy 'twas a holiday!
With a worried exclamation Mother
sat up. But at that minute the door
opened and there were her three
daughters facing the sunlight and cry
ing again: “Happy New Year, Moth
er-ours!“ And lMnb was cnrr>ing a
tray, of all tilings—n *-ny spread with
a dainty napkin and daintily set with
breakfast for one!
“Whatever?” gasped Mother, hardly
believing her eyes. But her girls’
smiles were rather tremulous. Dot,
who was the youngest and most Im
pulsive, reached the bed iirst. ‘We're
going always to bring you your break
fast,” she cried. “Every day of this
New Year and forever after, too. We're
not going to lie abed like lazy oxen
anymore while our Mother scurries
about alone down in the kitchen!"
“But girls! Why girls! 1 never
meant it that way. Oh, what made me
ever tell you! This never entered my
head. Have you waked Bob?”
"Oh, yes. We waked Bob all right.
He built the fire. That's his Job now.
THE DANIELSVILLE MONITOR, DANIELSVILLE, GEORGIA.
Tempos Fugit
Bj> C. G. HAZARD
(©. 1923, "Western Newspaper Union.)
jIIEARS pass, with summer, au
( f tumn. winter, spring-;
In fourfold beauty life is on the
Why think of what they take,
and musing. grieve? v
Failing of gladness over what they
leave.
Years are the falling petals of Time’s
rose.
But life is left when all its beauty
goes;
Life that will bloom in everlasting
grace
Where change and loss can ndver have
a place. • . ,
We had such a jolly time. Every
morning we’re going to have a jolly
time. And you’re just to luxuriate
here In bed o’ mornings now, dress and
take up the day’s work at your leisure
after all your selfish, cluttering chil
dren are out of the way. Doesn’t it
make you hungry?”
Mother looked at the tray that was
on the bed table now, straddling her
knees. There was coffee in the best
little silver coffee pot, cream in the sil
ver pitcher, sugar, a peeled orange,
and a neat poached egg on toast. They
hadn’t forgotten the salt, either.
Mother sighed. “But it isn’t right,
children. '’And what’s to become of my
And Pink Was Carrying a Tray, of All
Things.
New Year’s resolution? It*s bad for
character not to keep your resolu
tions.”
But Bob, who had stuck his head In
at the door, was laughing. “What was
it you said over and over last night,
Mother-ours?”
”1 shall like getting breakfast to
morrow morning.”
“There you are! Well, what’s the
matter? You’ve got it, haven’t you?
And you do like it, don’t you?”
At that the three girls laughed, and
the mother, looking suddenly like a
fourth girl, with her rested blue eyes
and sleep-tinted cheeks, laughed with
them.
WE WANT MORE
We want more than a happy New
Year. Happiness Is a thing of cir
cumstances and surfaces: joy is tin
satisfaction of the heart.—C. O. Haz
ard.
-The Spirit
of Christmas
++ By Robert Stead
Widow Stately HE widow
Recognizes the Stately's
Voice of Freddie home lay in
Freedman, 5? a nook Ir the
Mischief Maker . f t?o°^nn * in
where the sun In
F • i \Y/:r mornings came
rnend Wife up from the east
oatisped 1 here noo n he poured
is Mo Party of down gently among
tke Third Part the evergreens that
clothed the hill
sides of her little farm, and in the eve
nings, before time for sunset on the
plains below, he faded out In yellow
splendor over stark white peaks that
guarded the widow’s valley from the
west.
The Widow Stately had been a
widow even when she came Into that
little nook in the foothills with her
son Frank, a winsome lad of fourteen
or thereabouts. Here they had “dug
in" with their little herd of heifers,
and Frank had plowed the valley field
for oats and potatoes, and, with the
help of a carpenter, they had built the
house of spruce logs where a mountain
stream gurgled lullabies in the still
nights.
At the end of the six years they
were on their feet. The fields had ex
tended ; the herd had grown; the cream
cans went down to town three times
a week; there was new furniture in
tlie log house and a lilt of song again
in the widow’s heart.' But one new
pang was hors; mother love could not
quite stifle the pang when her hand
some Frank rode out with the yellow
haired Allison girl from south of the
ridge.
At the end of that same six years
came the war. And now the Widow
Stately is doubly a widow, and the
Allison girl is old before her time.
Down the valley a mile or more live
the Freedmans. And Freddie Freed
man, at fourteen, unhappily runs to
mischief, as the sparks fly upward.
Was it not Freddie who left the Stately
gates open at Halloween? Was it not
Freddie who. unbolted the reach in the
widow’s wagon? Who but Freddie
transposed the front and rear wheels
of her buckboard? 'Who hut Freddie
shot the wild ducks which she was
taming, and drank cream in her dairy
when she had gone to town?
And tonight, irs a blanket of Christ
mas snow carpets tire foothills and the
valley, the' widow returns from town
with her melancholy parcels for Christ
mas cheer. Tonight the fire will burn
on her hearth, strange visions will
wax and wane in the glow of embers;
visions of the First Frank and the Sec
ond Frank, and a nightmare of horror
A Blanket of Christmas Snow Carpets
the Foothills and the Valley.
at Viray Ridge. The fire will die out,
and Christmas Mill creep in, wan
and cheerless and alone.
But ns she drives up by the log
house she sees a sturdy young figure
at work in the woodshed, and—can she
be dreaming?—the spruce logs at the
end of the house have been cut and
piled for the winter’s burning. And
the sturdy young figure comes out and
takes her horses by the head.
“Let me put your team away while
you go in and warm yourself, Mrs.
Stately,” said a voice. “See, I have
started a fire for you.”
So like Frank it seemed that she
dared not break the spell. Without a
word, she sank in the rocker by the
fire.
But he was so long in coming that
at length she went to the door. The
sturdy ugure was Just disappearing
loM-n the road In the gray cloud of
ight.
“Who are you? who n>.„
called after him. e w tin
“I am the Spirit of rt,,
answered. ° f Christ ®as,*fc
And then she knew h io
“You’re not!’’ she laughed
Freddie Freedman!”
****..,
Friend Husband had had „ l
day at the ofltce ana PrUM l >s
moped all day at home. ha|
It seemed to Friend Wife that,
husband took his office duties ' ?
gether too complacently. For ,• *
after they were married Ye
was home before six; now he was?
quently late. And he didn’t , !
properly distressed over it That!!'
what worried her most.
So Friend Wife learned to m„ pe ,
little and to complain a little, and tc
wonder a good deal. And the
she moped and complained the les
did Friend Husband hurry f rom th !
office. The office had become his re
treat.
Moreover, there was the Party ot
the Third Part. Friend Wife had
There at the End Sat an Oldish Man.
It Was Her Husband!
never seen the Party of the Third
Part, but she could not' doubt her
existence. For a year back her hus
band had forgotten to kiss her when
he went to the office, and when lie
came home. And on. those rare nights
when he stayed at home he read the
newspaper, and yawned, and found the
time heavy on his hands. So you see
there must be a Party of the Third
Part. *
This fear gripped the little womai
‘so deeply that one night she deter
mined she would know the worst. Her
husband had not come home to dinner;
he had telephoned that lie was ' er J
busy in the office. He would just Sl jP
out and have a bite. And he would
likely be late—don’t sit up . •
She would know the truth!
So she put on a long cloak, and a
veil affair that she could draw over
her face, and she went straight to
office in time to intercept him he ot
he left for his appointment. A l-D
shone through the frosted doors,
all inside tyas silent as the tomb.
“He has gone already!” she
claimed to herself. Then she gen
tried the door. It opened to her han
Her eyes swept a vista of
desks. How forlorn and irksome 11
looked ! But everyone was gone- _
There at the end sat an old'Si -
It was her husband! It had ne
struck her before that her husbana
was beginning to be an oidish n *‘ over
had not heard'her. He was mten to£
a statement with long colu.nn o
ures, and he was making calculate
on a pad of paper before him.
From where she stood she con -
the gray tinge about his temples, *
the thinning hair on the I
head. His brow was set m and
rows. And suddenly Friend telT
found herself swallowing de ’JJ dol ,
at something in her throat.*- y
she knew that there was ■ be ‘„ a
the Third Part, and never h(
Partv of the Third Part, and that
was a foolish, wicked woman.
She drew the door £<- >n
the basement of the hu.a- =>
restaurant, where also wa
who, for „ conslderotloh '
a meal to her husband s office.
she gave the order. for
to be a modest meal, not j o *e.
but healthful, and garnished wit #
The waiter carried it , ta ble
down on the little corresponded'
beside Friend Husband s- ' it ,
a beautiful woman sat d™n led
and held out her hands -° - t
man with the long column - - •
and smiled. ntl r' fee
“Who are you? Who are .
demanded. ?fe*
“I am the Spirit of Chri
said. . , he cried
“ You are more than that. *
“You are my wife . •
my love!” ....-rrnion- 1
(Q. 1923. Western Nw*r> “