The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 18, 1906, Page 10

FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. ict that in their several efforts to solve Lome problem the first bonds that ©ld them have been shattered. hink no one ever entered the Grant he w t realizing that whether en's, order is Mrs. build ther form of = first law en a friend with a bit of needlework rdeavor. I and a bit of gossip drops in to pass a s which cczy hour in the embroidery of both, she = most particularly careful to drop no d of silk upon the floor. For Mrs t could no more resist the impulse to up at once than she could under- to it would de- reproach for ew demand for nge there wiil this house an open book not its reader, the news of n spread to the neigh- that, 1 take it, is evidence that no such disorder ever pre- Among her dearest friends it has some- times been wondered “however poor Mr. Grant stands it,” and the lady who sug- gested in a tone that was forcibly casual— determinedly free from all insinuation— “Well, you know he is away a great deal,” was thought to have sounded the conclusion of the whole matter. “How does it seem to you to come back the oid street?”’ began Mrs. Grant on this afterncon. ‘‘Now that e ¢ e forsaken us for the con- es of a flat I feel quite lost, and ic ugh 1 love this big place it is such a uldn't give it up for a flat, it I replied Mrs. Gray, with a By FRANK H. SWEET. HE new minister had been at Rox- ville three month and already the Thursday evening attendance bad more than doubled, and there were premonitions that several presumptive engagements would not argument icularly became A come off. And yet Burke Ellison was ynot a ladie man in any sense of the { wora He was fresh from his theological * ( coul diffident, earnest and with his * ( heart in the upbuilding-of this, his first church, and his abilities were of so eom- monplace an order as to seam brilliant only in an out-country village like Rox- Thursday evening the attendance was unusually large, and among the of the labor was ) twenty or more girls there were nearly ( he f as many boys, red, embarrassed and laborious t a return first 5 1d have proved, she never( waiting impatiently for the close of the d at she was ¢ the right ) service. ck the realization of her As they filed out Carrie Morse, the or- n head ganist, paused at the door for a leisurely ¥ we two were guests at ) buttoning of her gloves. A hand touched ing of women who, not ) her arm suggestively, but she finished the = hbors who have { buttonholing calmly. Then she said, with- club in spite of the/out turning. “No. Sam. not to-night. I'm determined air of doing her full duty even though it lead her into pronounce- ments that would impress her friends \s amazing. “My dear, you don’t mean — ‘I certainly do,” retorted Mrs. Gray as positively as if the question had been y stated. here is no use to suggest we are not ed,” she went on, resolved to say everything that was in her heart, We were all in order with- —that's because we planned moving—and I've had four long I don't like it.”" is s0 beautiful—your flat, and and the management seemed s0 1d interested. You told me so ' urged Mrs. Wallis gently. Devoted to her cottage and the cares it imposed upon her, Mrs. Wallis never fails to set forward the full measure of delight offered by any other residence if only to indicate that her own plan is happier still. hat is all true—just as true now as it was at first, but that isn’t everything. We are too close to people. We hear every footstep in the apartment above, the piano from the one below, the voices and the endless coming and going from the one across the way. There is no green grass to see, nor a single tree and the carriage must be kept two - blocks away—so 1 can't get it in a hurry, and many of our things seem too large for the small rooms, and as for the cook’s room, it ig so tiny Mary says she simply can- not get along with it, though I tell her she wiil have to.” This breathless indictment completed, Mrs. Wallis asked. “And Mr. Gray—how does he like the change?” Mrs. Gray hesitated for the minute and then sald: ‘He consented to thought the house with the lawn and stable was too great a care. Jim gave up his own horse—thought we'd need only the two for the carriage—and gave up the little garden he was always watching over. I know he misses his home every single day and I turn gray with terror when I think of telling him I'm not sat- isfied, after all. Of course, I'll have to teli him.” We all smiled at the thought of her turning gray with terror of her indulgent husband, but Mrs. Grant said, seriously: “Then why not come back? How delight- ed we should be to welcome you!" “Why, don't you see,” and the big blue eyes opened very wide as if this thing must be plain to the most carelesg ob- gerver, *'1 wouldn’t like it any better than well in weeks to decide. “But it it's new, capable briefest move because 1 going to walk with Alice. We've got things to talk about. Come,” to a girl who was standing with a young man just inside, “All right, I'm ready. No,” to her com- panion, “vou can’t walk home with me this evening, Tom. It's such a short way and Carrie and T want to be together.” As they went down the path a third girl joined them, rumning from a boy whose arm half-rose in effectual protest. The girl was giggling. “I guess F'll walk with you, girls,” she tried. “We've just got to cold shoulder those boys a little or' they'll begin to think they own us; and I—we don't want their company that way. But lsn't he sweet?” “Lovely,” Carrie answered. She regard- ed the newcomer through the corners of her c¢yes. “Funny,” she commented, “you’'ve been keeping company with John two years.” “That’s just the trouble,” the girl gig- gled; “it's getting too settled. But you've been going with Sam 'most as long, Carrle, and folks do say—oh, you needn't laugh, Alice. You and Tom. are pretty much in the same boat. But never mind; you're both like me, and feel it's getting too settled. The bovs need 1 aid before I want something else.” Tien spoke the beauty of the par @ young widow, who had been a pattern of industry with her needle while m ng none of the unhappy one’s camplaints “Mrs. Gray,” she “Mrs. Bride Mrs. Gray appealed to the othe “The very best wa) . lorle peo- ple, but you are not Gummidge and surely no hotel be a realty, truly home. Besides in any hotel you would Rave all the annoyance: you complain of in the flat, along with a good many as well admit the truth.,” and Mrs! Gray's laugh sought to hide her embarrassment. “i'm tired of housekeep- ing. Now all you housewives scold me. I can’t help it."” “The private hotel pldace in the world,"” the happiest Bride ignored Nt the challenge to scold, “‘and I could easily prove that to you if gossip weren't for- bidden here.” No one urged by word or look the embargo ggainst personalities, so Mrs. Bride continued: wife, whom “Franlk Powell and his we all know, have lived at the Ransome for the last three months. They were charmed with the place at first and with themselyes for being there. but latelya-well, for four evenings they have gone through dinner without speaking to each oth When he is detained down town for ten or fifteen minut he comes. to the diping room without him, though she really has no reason for not waiting for him, and after dinner she likes to spend an hour or two or three in the main parlors, where he goes directly to their apartments to read and rest and, as I have no doubt, to curse the day he al- lowed himself to be convinced that housekeeping was too great a burden on his pretty wife: “He has breakfast at S—too early for her to get up sinde she has nothing to do all day—and as _he doesn’t come home f&F lunch, they spend about as little time togeéther as two people well could. “She -§8 very much admired and it piques her that her husband is not willing to go about as they used to do, but always pleads fatigue or work. It they were in their own home they wouldn't grow so apart, It is the arti- ficial life they are leading that makes them both unhappy. A few days ago she told me aink would like to 89 back to the flat they gave up, but that she wouldn't think of it. ‘I positively ret the four years spent there, she ured me. - “And Clarcnce Wait! If he would ad- dress himself to a philippic -against hotel life as a regular thing it would be something worth hearing. In ten years those two people have lived in most of the nice places in town, (s Mrs. Walt insists she is not strong enough to manage her own establish- ment. She has every appearance of ex- cellent health—weighs 200 pounds surely—but always complains ,of one illness or another. Really, what she needs is a genuine care or two to make her forget herself. “Clarence has all his lunches 1t the club and half the time he is there for dinner, too, while Mrs. Wait must find in her diamonds and her idleness the compensation for the home she has lost or given up. Whenever she seems con- tented I decide it must be because sne can’t realize the changes the years are bringing her. “I'm sure I don’t want to talk all the aftergoon—though this Is a subject big enough to fill a whole day—but I must tell you about little Helen Orme. “She is as pretty and amiable a orida as ever I knew, but already the touch of living always on parade has begun to spoil her. his is her own story. “A new gown to be worn for the first time made her anxious to be promot™#t dinner, for what is the good of the beautiful if no one is to see it? “‘As if on purpose’ she fretted, ‘Harry was three-quarters of an hour late and I just said I wouldn't go to dinner at all. 1 didn't, either. “I tried to tell her that making her husband wretched was worse than missing her dinner #nd that the dress would keep for another day., but she couldn’t see anything but that he had never been late before. which proved to her that he could have maintained G D S G S S S D D T S S S N N N o R G GG G TG O GGG BN DR N OG0 00 l.* @« WHAT CAUSED MISS a little—little more uncertainty.” “There never was anything between Sam and me,” said Carrfe, shortly. “We're just friends."” “That's what Tom and I are,” declared Alice. “It's silly the way folks talk. ‘What are you snickering about, Lou?" “Oh, nothing,” giggled the third girl; “only I was sort of wondering If ‘twas him.” Then inconsequently: ‘He's coming over to my house Thursday. He asked if it would be convenient when I came in this evening.” “That's because you're a committee on the Easter decorations,” observed Carrie, indifferently, ‘and his head is full of that just now. He spent all last evening at my house.” 7 “Because you're the organist, and he's trying to improve the music,” said Alice. “Land knows there's room enough. I'm solng to have him in to supper Friday, just ag a friend.” Just behind them was a neatly clad figure, alone. At first this girl had paid no attention to the conversation in front; then, as the. tones grew more insistent and she understood, she fell behind, her face growing thoughtful. Three young men oushed by her, indignant, and yet evidently afrald to advance. for they only that record if he had really wishea i0.” “Dear me, Mrs. Bride, Interposed the little woman who had precipitared this listing of unhappy examples, “it is only the wivesswho suffer from having nothing to do?" “It is only the wives who have nothing to do. The husbands are busy enough— busier than ever, if the long hours given to their affalrs mean anything—bue though the wives suffer most from that plan of life, they are most opvosed to fhange.” I thought of my sister,. whose problem of How to be Happy in a Flat is’ compli- cated by the tireless actlvity of two chil- dren, a boy of 9 years and his sister, twc years younger, and her feeling that if they could be repressed or the arbltrary rules ‘of the house regarding the manners and customs of citizens-to-be be made a lt- tle more reasonable, she would have noth- ing to complain of. She is so in the habit of urging them to “Hush” that even when they are away at sehool she finds herself murmuring the hated word. If they riaé in the elevator more than twice a day the man expects an extra tip, and.because playing in the halls is ex- pressly forbidden the children spend more time in roller skating on the pavement than is good for them. In calm assurance they are the equals of young people twice their age, and, as thelr father observes, ‘It doth not yet ap- pear what they shall be.” When I mentioned all this Mrs. Gray *“Oh, of course, if there are chil- and Mrs. Wallis added, “As there always ought to be but that opened such a possibility for endless discussion no one followed its lead. “You think, then, that woman's dislike of household cares and her fondness for soeial pleasures are responsible for the unhappiness of our modern homes?" Mrs. Grant put the question to the flu- ent Mrs. Bride, but I thought she did so only to formulate it more clearly iIn her own mind, and that her emphasis showed a resolution to stay by the domestic diffi- culties that were hers if only to prove to the world and California street that the lamp of high housewifely purpose has not gone out. Swiftly the timid Mrs. Wright inter- rupted Mrs. Bride's reply, saying: “'I can’t bear to have you talk about the unhappiness of the modern home as If it were an assured thing that happiness be- longs only to the long ago. Dom’t you JESSIE TO CHANGE HER MIND - w» RSSO went on a few steps, and then slackened their pace. “I te!l you, boys, I won't stand this thing much longer,” she heard one of them declare, hotly. “This makes two Thursdays 1've been turned down, and 1 thought everything was all right, and I've even been on the lookout for a house. Of course, I wouldn't say this to you''— apologetically and lowering his voice, though not so low but the girl behind was obliged to-hear—“but you two are being treated in the same way. What's the matter, do you think—him?” “No, just girls' foalishness,” answered one of his companions. *“Ellison fsn't a Mormon, and besides everybody can see he doesn’t care for girls. He's afraid of them. I guess ours are only trying to see how much strain we will bear."” . “Um! Maybe you're right”—doubtful- ly—“but 1 feel as though I ought to be pinning the thing down somewhere and starting a row. If only he wasn't quite $0-—80 absolutely unconsclous—" The girl fell back still farther beyond any possibility of hearing: then there came a quick, firm step behind her, and— “How fortunate, Miss Jessie. I was afraid I might not be able to catch up N « W) 14 7 /4 //} i Pon, 7 /! WA / /) il 4’y Iipiss vad i) think there are as many kinas of modern homes as there are modern women? “And that there are more happy fam- ilies than ever . there were before? More unhappy ones, too, perhaps, for there are so very many people, but we hear of the, failures, the wretched homes, and not of the others, so it ‘seems sometimes that the others are lost from the earth.” “My dear, 1 think you are right,” and Mrs. Wallis voiced the encouragement we all felt was due our one brave opti- mist, who thereupon added: “If only we didn’t think so much about what our friends have, we wouldn’t suffer so from diseontent with our own belongings. Maybe we pay too high a price for the advantages of living In the city. In the country and small towns all the people have the same poseessions, one family lives about as well as another and there is no riv- “Oh, the comfortable, quiet, happy homes in the little towns!” breathed Mrs, Grant. “Whenever I stop to think of the life my father and mother lived, the absolute peace of their days and the delight we all found In the simplest kind of pleasures, it seems to me it must all have belonged to another world. “Why, I don't believe we ever knew what unhappiness meant. “We were busy in an even sort of way—so unlike the rush that is now necessary even when I'm doing noth- ing I can't help thinking the millen- nium is behind instead of before us.” with you. I wanted—" *“To see me about the new carpet?” she anticipated. *“No, Jjust to see you"—frankly. “But I beg your pardon. I was not to allude to it again until after you finished school- ing. One forgets so easily. I hope they are all well at home?” She did not answer for some moments. ‘When she looked up a tremulous smile was playing about her lips, but her eyes were clear and steady. “I withdraw what I told you that evening, Burke,” sbe sald, “and will answer your request as you wish, and you may announce the engagement at once.” He stopped short, his face joyous, but incredulous. Then he caught her hangs. yhy, I—I don’t understand it, Jes- sle,”” he stammered. ‘‘What does it mean? There was no intimation of it in your eyes or voice when I spoke to you this evening. *How came you to—to change so suddenl; “For the public good. perhaps,” she re- plied, thoughtfully. ‘‘But never mind: you would net understand. Maybe I will tell you some time. Now you may walk home with me.” (Covoyright, 1906, by K. A. Whitehead.) “Never did I hear you talk so about the old home,” Mrs. Wallls ventured, “and I am puzzled to understand wi you do not visit it oftener.” We thought it wasn't kind of the lit- tle woman to spoil our hostess’ rhap- sody, but we laughed, nevertheless, and Mrs. Grant joined us, seeming not at all discomfited. “If you insist upon knowing,” she re- plied, “ I will confess that I can’t bear the place. When I'm thers for more than a day I become absolutely fever- ish for the life and noise of San Fran- ciseco. “Not that this is better, but I am changed and cannot go back to the old ways.” “Maybe you could,” suggested Mrs. Wright, “if you were thoroughly tired of worrying with the wretched little questions that are before us constantly, even when we think we.have them solved. “My husband has been expounding the theory of some great sage who be- lieves that what we shall eat and what we shall wear are questions to be set- tled by the subconscious mind, leaving us free to put the best of ourselves into the really worth while.” “Only a masculine mind would rele- gate matters of food and dress to the subconscious mind,” Mrs. Bride com- mented, “and If the wife of that great sage undertook to demonstrate his doc- trine her husband would very soon be writing pamphlets on the importance ot housewifely concentration.” “I like to have some acknowledg- ment of our problems, even if we are blamed for them,” Mrs. Wright com- tinued, “and surely they are serious enough.” “Does that mean you would like to ‘go a-visiting, back to Griggsby sta- tion, back where u used to be happy and so pore? " I asked. “Only for a ve short visit,” she laughed. “I am afraid Mrs. Grant is right —we can never %o back to the things we've left—but sometimes I wonder whether I wouldn't have been happl 1§ I'd never come away.” “That Is heresy,” briskly put in Mrs. Bride, as the maids began preparations for serving the patties and salad and coffee that signaled the end of the serious business of the little body. “It i¢ as wicked to refuse the benefits of living In these twentieth century cities as it would be to ignére steam rail- ways in favor of the stage coach or the wireless telegranh in favor of mounted messenger.” Whether of her hearers any who, earlier combated this h I do not know, t the advent of other claims to our interest prevented our giving any heed to her just the An hour later, as’ Anna Wri and I waited the coming of our car, 1 sought to revert to the diseussion, but to my introductory, “De you think—" she replied seriously, “I am thinking a gre* there were . would have evolved theory many things, but [ wen't say what. you like, you may sée whether you find out for yourseif.™ AN can