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CGURTED 30 YEARSWECDED 15 YEARS(Continued front First Faye)came to take the little store I owned, and I met her when she paid the rent. “I never thought of marriage.“She did all the fixing up.“She used to come and call on me. and Anally after a number of years, I forget how many, she sued me for breach of promise.“Of course, then, I married her.Was Fond of New Houses“Now, you know, I don’t want to say anything about her. It Isn’t my nature to talk, but if it hadn't been fur her i’d be living with my sister now. as happy as—as anything.“Why,” he went on, “we wouldn’t even live in the same house for long at a time. The minute I’d build a new house to rent, nothing would do but I must move Into it.“We’ve lived in about every house I own—anyhow' in three,” he added.“You know women make a big mistake in nagging. I couldn’t have one of my relatives here but there was trouble; and she had all of hers, one time and another. There were 13 brothers and sisters in her family.“Eleven,” interposed the maiden sister —who, by the way, had kindly blue eyes, but strong, yes, very strong, lines in her face.“No, 13,” he insisted. “I guess I know.” “We’re 'most through now',” said ho, “Just a couple more papers to sign. I’m not contesting it. I’m too sick.”Indeed, he did look sick as he leaned back in his chair.“No, he isn't going to contest it,” the sister emphasized.Martha Not TalkingtlGhtiPsiPfiirCaii:liGTdisitf“You want to see her? Well, she lives right down ’round the corner. I could show you where. Do you think it would be all right for me to show her?” he added, anxiously inquiring of his sister.“Be sure you ain’t seen,” she cautioned, and with that approval he got his hat.“She’s on the veranda,” he said, jumping back just as he had started to turn the corner.It seemed like catching a boy who had been stealing jam.But, wistfulness was In his face as he turned back to go up to the little house where Sister Octavla lived.“Mrs. Martha Brigham?”She is a tiny slip of a woman with the same dork eyes of her girlhood, and a kindly smile that lights up her whole face.“I don’t w'ant to say anything,” said she. “There's been too much said already.”But the soft gray hair shadowed a wistful face, too, as she bent over the baby boy of her nephew in the rapidly gathering dusk.banh
Newspaper Details
Boston Post
Boston, Massachusetts, US
Sat, Jul 15, 1905
Page 5
Full Page
Clipped by
Free T.
IA, USA 17 Oct 2018
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