mm sss ras
Bellefonte, Pa., March 1, 1912.
WHEN AUNT MARY CAME.
The Story of tne Husband Who Would
Not Go to Church.
“When Aunt Mary comes Preston, you
will just have to go to church!”
Mrs. Chandor’s tone was that of one
nerve lov combat. His
by ing you say,” remarked
husband absently, with his eye still glued
to the magazine he was reading in the
waning light, as he sat on the piazza in
a chair that was sli tilted so as to
allow for the comfortable placing of his feet
on the railing, an expanse of cadet-blue
lisle stocking, matching his necktie, show-
never had
to implore her husband to go and make
himself “look nice,” as Lucia Bannard
across pretty i
taria lifted languidly in the dving breeze,
from near-by came the of little
boys’ voices ing and calling in some
game. Everything was at peace
but 's mind.
“Preston, put down that book! It's too
dark for you to read, anyway. I was just
saying that when Aunt Mary came you'd
have to in and go to church again.
Besides, what would she think of me
if you didn't? It would simply break her
heart—she wouldn't understand at all
Not that I understand it myself—I never
have! How a man, brought up as you
were by her, can reconcile it to his con-
science to stay away from church as you
have lately—Sunday! Do you realize how
long it is since you were in one?”
“I haven't any idea,” said her husband
genially. sews :
"Well, I was thinking about it just the
other day. It's nearly three years! Mrs.
Chandor paused, with a little tremulous-
ness in last words. "Of course I
it know began that winter when I was ill
so much and we had Dr. Gleamer for
rector. I know his delivery was dreadful,
and he never said anything; but you stay
home now just because you've got into
the habit of staying home; you won't go
and see for yourself how changed every-
thing is, and hear what good sermons
Mr. Owen preaches, and what lovely
music we have—you just couldn't help
liking it. I know people blame me for
not having more influence over you! Oh,
they do! I know it is partly my fault; but
it is so hard for me to make you do any-
thing you don’t want to do.”
Mrs. Chandor paused once more, and
looked at him piteously. “I wouldn't
have Aunt Mary for worlds! Why
she'd never get over it—and she’s done so
much for you always. I cannot have her | world
hurt.”
“Well, if you think it's necessary—"
began Mr. Chandor doubtfully. He reach-
ed over, and took his wife's hand, press-
ing his thumb on each of her soft knuck-
les in turn, in a way that with him ex-
pressed affection, while his gaze took
of her upturned blue eyes, her soft, rip-
ply hair, and the slight feminine droop of
head to one side, Wich gave a sug-
gestion of . Chandor
thought his wife exactly right; he had a
permanent satisfaction, when he looked
at her, in his choice.
“It does seem”—his voice rose argu-
mentatively—*as if I might have one
morning to do as I pleased in, after slav-
ing all the week.”
“Preston, how you act! Why on earth
you should make such a fuss I can't see.
You don’t have to work as hard as that!
And just because you like to lou
around all Sunday morning! Yes, I do
think it's necessary. If you want to spoil
Aunt Mary's visit entirely—and it
would—"
“Oh, all right, all right; I'l do it, of
course,” said her husband resignedly.
“Now the subject's closed.”
“You promise me faithfully you will go
$0 eliurch with Aunt Mary while she's
“Yes, I'll promise. She shall do oy.
thing with me that she wants,” said .
Chandor with emphasis. "And I hope
you're satisfied now.” He drew his wife's
chair a little closer to him, and p= his
arm around her. "Poor girl, she an
awful time with her husband, hasn't she?
Pity she didn’t get a better one while she
was about it.”
1” said his
“Oh, when you talk that wa
wife disdainfully unim yet yield-
ing sweetly to the caress.
"When it came down to it, she didn't
think there was a better man in the
world than Preston.
But she suddenly sat up straight as she
saw a and
gentleman Spproaching
3 the path, and gave her ¢ a little
away.
“Good evening, Mrs. Crandall. Good
evening, Mr. Crandall!”
“You and your husband always seem
to have so much to say to each other,”
said Mrs.
ly any use asking you.
“Yes, better come, hear me,” said
Mr. Crandall, speaking for the first time
and out his
“Why, I've just
I'd be there,” said
tively, "but if I have to hear your old bass
| make any impression on the masculine !
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thing! —some- | caroled Lucile, throwing herself with pre-
. Lucile,
irl, really liked to be
it Ho Co
dering sometimes why it was so hard to
nature!
h Sree Fp bia bons of ne
non-church-going variety, hi i
might have been the less obvious, but
! most of their little circle were interested
in St. Stephen’s. Dick Crandall had been
a choir-boy, and the habit still clung to
him; Bt tosingina choir would have
dropped him out into the open wastes
life, where he had no accredited place.
Will Durland, who come over every Mon-
day night to play chess with Preston, was
a vestryman, although he wasn’t half as
es bh os, pillar of the parish
is was a as
weil as of trade; even Mr. Minott, who
had been “something else” before he
married Minnie Chase, attended services
—intermittently, it is true, but still he
attended; Mr. the rector, was a
frequent visitor at their next-door neigh- |
And Preston put
his hands in his pockets as frequently as
anyone when he was asked for subscrip-
tions. His wife was proud of that, as of
many other things about him.
Everyone seemed to know by the next
day that Mr. Chandor would be seen at
church the following Sunday.
Mr. Durland jocularly asked if he
should send an additional envelope for
the collection, and Mr Owen, meeting
Preston in the street as the latter was
coming home from the train, said, with a
cordial greeting, that he was already
working hard on that sermon! -
Elinor Chandor, with prophetic vision,
could see waiting to shake
hands with Preston as he left the
Lucia Bannard, who was vais
young woman, though married, mi
even, in an SXcess of religious fervor,
present Preston some commemora-
tive emblem or a book of devotion, to
on es Re Mg
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in the inner recesses of the nature of the
real man, and keep him forever from re-
Peating the action. There was a
-away gleam in Lucia’s eye, when
had spoken of it tha
might mean anything. But Elinor was
sure that if things were left normal Pres-
ton would get in the habit of going to
St. Stephen's once more, when he found
out how it was; he couldn't
help liking it now. It was time indeed
that Aunt Mary came!
Aunt Mary was a large, fresh-colored,
gray-haired lady, who looked her age—
which she always proclaimed on avery
occasion—only in way of becoming
it. Her averred that when he
was a little he thought Aunt s
lap the most I place in he
. t
characteristic for all childhood. Their
elders always had the feeling, after her
arrival, that, if everything wasn't exactly
right, it was going to be; she knew so
many infallibly best ways of reaching
perfection that all you needed was to
make i little pleasing extra exertion to
get
Her loud, clear voice and cheerful
presence seemed to bring an atmosphere
of agreeable competency.
“Indeed the journey was sotluag she
affirmed, when, dinner finished, was
comfortably bestowed by her nephew and
niece in the bi armchair on the
piazza, dvith Lucile, a small-faced girl
with gigantic butterfly bows on each side
of her head, hanging on the arm of
everyone's chair in turn, as well as on
the converse of her el
“There was a very kind young man
who carried my bag for me,—of course
there was no porter in sight! As] told
him, when a woman is sixty-eight years
of age she appreciates a courtesy. He
said he was a student in the Union Theo- his
logical Seminary, and I assured him of
the pleasure it gave me, in these days
when young men are so lax, to find one
who was preparing for the sacred calling
of the ministry. He had such red eyes
kg hd ER
otion—it is so i ve and simple
that no one should be without it.”
"How very kind of you, Aunt Mary,”
murmured ,
:
jt ina canting iit
in trunk; it a sti with
a oe ribbon hay 3 gums sor
chocolate drops for a little girl who re-
members to use it!—just the plain kind,
Elinor, they won't hurt her.”
i ttractive make
little Aunt ,” said Elinor, half
en ! “Doesn't Preston?”
“y " he affecti
begins—" Aunt
Mary sighed heavily, “there's no know-
ing where it will stop. It's the evil of
age!”
“Papa's going to church next Sunday,”
Aunt Mary's look of growing surprise
Elinor that | at Lucile's first statement relaxed in
r. Chandor medita- one of smiling appreciation.
“Why, of course he is, the dear boy A
growl, Crandall—" He reached over and she supplemented. “He doesn’t have hj
the other on the shoulder, and
old Aunt to escort every day,” while
both men grinned comfortably, while the Elinor said with enforced sweetness:
exchanged confidential i -
mon ne's always prom oo preach for
ol , ,
Come on, Nell, we must be getting hom.
10 s —
How are you, Teddy?”
“For goodness’ sake, don’t look at him,”
said Mrs. Chandor dejectedly. Teddy was
one of those small who, let forth
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“Run away, Lucile, at once, darli
and gee what little brother is doing.” ri
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too! Emma |
he never goes to church with
her any more.. When I spoke to him
about it, he had those same old foolish
excuses to offer that have been trumped
up since the year one. I've no patience |
ith fem. I said 30 lim, Toh Shaw, |
way you go on about hypocritesin |
the church, anybody’'d think they went
there to be made bad instead of to be
t, even if they don't
couldn't help feeling
privately that it was mostly Emma's |
fault; her influence hasn't been what the
influence of a wife should be,—not like |
yours, Elinor. You don't know how
thankful I have always been that my
dear has had your high character to
uphold him.”
"I say,” remonstrated Mr. Chandor to
his wife when they were at last alone, |
after she had sought high and low, un-
availingly, for the needed rubber band,
and Aunt Mary, hovering around after
her, had promised to buy her a box of
them in the morning, “lI say Elnor,
you're making a regular Ananias and
Saphira out of me! Do you think it's
right? Aren't you afraid retribution will
overtake you?”
“No,” said his wife stoutly; “I'm not.
You'll deserve all you'liget, anyhow! Oh,
Preston, I was ready to shriek once or
twice! But"—her tone changed—*"did
vou ever see anything like the way chil-
dren always let out just what you don't
want them to, the very first thing? I
could have sla Lucile! And it's worse |
telling them beforehand not to say what
don’t want them to—that’s fatal! |
will always ask politely, ‘Mama, |
wy mustn't I say this or that!” i
er mind reverted to the welcome
that might be made by members of the |
£
tion to her husband next Sun- them.
day. Crandalls she could warn, but |
her wifely ity wouldn't let her take
others into this demeaning confidence
ng i]
The culminating day of the week as- |
sumed an unusual halo that colored all
the hours leading up to it,—Elinor -want-
ed that Sunday to be perfect not only in |
its highest way, but in all those little
material ways that show the festal spirit
in them. already had the promise
of her new summer silk from the dress-
maker—a simple little thing, the gray
and white Stipe that was so cool look-
ing, and that on always liked. Her
hat had been a great disappointment; it
was a very large hat. knew, of
course, when she bought it that Preston
invariably inveighed against large hats,
but it had seemed So pechliariy becoming
when she tried it on, to herself and
the milliner, besides being so exactly
“the style” that she had been sure that
Preston must consider it becoming too.
dtm be Rig Rs
me, er eyes n
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re Je ube] a boy
to grou; wi :
“I don’t like it at all!”
No normal woman can ever take any
satisfaction in wearing a hat that her
husband dislikes Elinor had sadly felt
obliged to wear hers, but for this coming
Sunday she got down a little old toque
out of the closet, that Preston had al-
ways admired her in, and that fitted
down compactly over her rippling brown
hair, and trimmed it with a bunch of
pink to be pleasing in his t
as they walked from the sanctuary. Nor
chicken, such as he used to have at his!
appeal Songly both
appetite of her husband; if he were ask-
uj at time of the year, what he would
Ao fiir
answered, "Boiled apple dumplings.”
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he always unhesitatingly | Aur
Mary, beloved as she certainly was, had |
will of her own; it was impossible to
gainsay her; as everything was for one’s
own good, it would have seemed the part
of the ingrate to strive to balk her, even
the striving had been of any use. Yet
th that, perhaps, natural weariness of
the flesh, on her young relative’s part,
was mingled Elinor's Jratitue at
Aunt Mary's unconscious in over
Preston in the matter of the Sunday ob-
servance. There was a soft radiance, a
melting happiness in Elinor's eyes at
| moments, unknown to herself, when she
regarded her husband, that he found
‘ himself tenderly and comprehendingly
conscious of. His wife wasn't like most
women—there was a lot she never talked
about.
Others were thinking of the day as
well as she. Dick Crandall. as she met
him Saturday afternoon coming from the
train, announced that he had applied to
ing fwo solos for the occasion! Mr. Owen
off his hat to her with a smile of
remembrance, and Lucia Bannard herself
came to the house with a pensive, up
lifted look in her dark eyes and some
sprays of lilies of the valley.
hey are out of our own garden,” she
announced in her low, thnlling voice.
“We are all going to wear them to church '
tomorrow. | thought if you and your!
hushand would each wear a spray it
would show that we were all together.”
“Why that’s awfully sweet of you,”
said Elinor, kissing her friend warmly.
She pitied the flower in her husband's
buttonhole the next morning, when, the
corn muffins enjoyed and the apple dump-
lings secretly accomplished, she was all
ready and dressed to set out. She had
to go early today, that was the only draw-
back, on account of substituting for Miss
Green with that lady's Sunday-School |
class. It was too bad that she couldn't
walk to church with Preston, but she
would walk back with him, and Aunt
Mary would love to have him all to her-
self going there. *
"Lucia Bannard wanted you to wear
this,” she announced. "We all have them
in honor of the occasion.”
“Why that’s nice of her,” said Preston,
very much surprised, but rather pleased.
She stood there in her gray-and-white
striped silk and the little hat, with the
bunch of pink rosebuds, framing her rip-
pling hair, her soft blue eyes gazing up
at him with that new, happy light in
He drew her to him, and kissed
her, his arms lingered around her as he |
w :
ou’re an awfully nice woman, do you
know that? Best wife I ever had.”
The day was beautiful, shough warm; |
the walk to church was loos, ut Elinor |
was not tired. Lucile and Teddy went
prattling along beside her. :
By some miraculous sixth sense, after |
Jeathing Sunday-school, though she hard-
ly heard what the children in the class!
were reciting, or asking her, she seemed |
to be equal to the requirements of the |
situation. Her mind was bent on the
triumphant moment that was coming, !
when she should be in her own pew and, |
looking up, see Aunt Mary's fine fresh-
colored face, her gray hair and her state- |
ly coming down the aisle with |
Rt ; Preston; nay, handsome! He |
mightn’t be handsome to anyone else, |
‘but he was to her. |
She was in the pew at last, Lucile and i
Teddy had gone home. e came in;
gradually, by twos. and threes; the organ
was ng the Jal more
; the church was up, ott
none her household appeared. i
choir-boys were entering singing lustily; |
she stood up, still no one! Had anything |
happened? She saw, with swift-beating
heart, the house on fire—Aunt Mary in a
fit of Spoplexy.--Preston stabbed by a |
passing tramp :
The service began, still no one! But as
she knelt, someone Slipped into the pew |
beside her, and Aunt Mary, flushed and |
breathing hard, vet composed, slid with |
t facility into prayer. i
or Jad 10 wait oy |
ngly, “Has anything happen-
ed?” and ve Aunt Mary's decisive !
shaking of the head and the words, fram- |
ed laboriously, almost inaudibly, with her |
“I had a telegram just as I was start- |
ing; I will have to leave immediately
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“I really did want to go,” whispered
her husband ih ludicrous, dismayed pro-
test, as Elinor bent over him. “I couldn't
help it; I gave you my word!”
“I know,” whispered his wife smilingly
in return. She pressed her cheek against
his. “It's going to be just the same for
me as if you went. And after all, —" she
stooped a moment before she murmured
shyly, “dear, I always take you in my
heart with me anyway, when I go to
church. I didn’t need to have Aunt Mary
come for that.”—By Mary Stewart Cut-
ting, in Woman's Home Companion.
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN
DAILY THOUGHT.
Ah, Life, grant me but this:
No proffered joy to miss,
To feel no keen regret;
lo help sad hearts forget
What pain they may.
To let no trust go wrong;
To keep my courage strong;
To fear no evil spell;
To do some one thing well
From day to day.
—Charlotte Becker.
With a Picture.—I give you my picture;
when you gaze upon it
Think of the quaint belief the red man
holds—
_ That who ever takes the picture of a
man takes his soul also--Shaemas 'Sheel.
The lines of princess slips are more
varied than ever, says the Dry Goods
Economist. The thinner qualities of wash
silks, the heavier messalines, satins, taf-
fetas, voiles, cotton crepes, lingerie and
lawn are all shown in the spring gar-
ments. In many of the models the waist
section shows some form of trimming, as
the princess slip is now considered a
corset cover and skirt combination.
With the "little frock” has come the
simple coiffure. But, like all simple
things, these neatly dressed heads are the
result of a careful arrangement of strands
of hair and sometimes the skillful use of
: supplemental hair, to gain effects which
our own growth would not give.
The neatly-waved head, with one’s own
hair divided by the master hand into even
strands, and with a rippling wave cover-
| ing each ear, is not as easy as it looks.
Those of us who bravely attempt it,
| without first seeing it done, are likely to
go wrong when it comes to arranging
the simple, but slightly outstanding, coils
which have taken the place of the eternal
curl. coiffeuse was never so im-
t as she is at the present day; she
is no longer the mere manipulator of our
locks; she is the artist who studies us
id our clothes and helps us to look our
t.
Any one could pin on curls, pile bunch
on bunch. But it is master hand
which creates the neat, close dressing,
and saves it from that untidiness and ap-
pearance of dowdiness which are often
the result of our own efforts. A trial of
the new models and their variations is
the next move after we have chosen our
frocks for He Season, and then an ar-
rangement for those frequent dressings
and attentions which give the pretty head
its well-groomed look. .
¥
Pale green as an evening “color is most
effective, and for those who can wear it
it is highly becoming. Yet this color
does not really seem to get its proper
meed of attention, and, as a rule, at a
dinner or in a ballroom this shade is con-
spicuous by its complete absence or rarity.
_ Emerald green is by" far the more dar-
ing shade, and when sarutully worn this
makes a singularly successful frock, es-
pecially if the wearer has a touch of rus-
set or auburn in her locks.
For the woman who is the happy pos-
sessor of hair of a Titian shade there are
few colors in which she will look as well
as in emerald, and the warmth and depth
of this combination will make her sisters
appear pale and colorless beside her.
a superstition |
against green as being an unlucky color, ' grnamen
declaring that
ong |
This has so fi t- |
I that she has how imen. op ail acwopts |
" | to wear green, and would only do so in|
The white corduroy suit is quite a
charming invention, I think. Of course |
it will but all white does, and yet we |
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uroy suits, but
without it. It is better
the one material
ore .
white ratine that
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a quarter of an inch from the edge.
although it was introduced in!
most fashionable suits two seasons
Graham Rolls.—One pint of graham
flour, Drie ut of wheat flour, ofie fo]
spoon t, two teaspoonf . |
ing powder, one tablespoonful of butter |
or lard and three-fourths of a pint of,
milk will be needed for this recipe. Sift
the graham flour, wheat flour,
powder, rub in the short-
add and mix into a smooth
that can be handled—not too fast.
Flour the board, turn it out and form into
rolls the shape and size of large fingers.
Lay
for
:
them on a baking sheet so
not touch. Wash the surfaces with a
soft brush dipped in milk. Bake in a hot |
ten minutes. |
FARM NOTES.
—If onions were wanted from seeds
buy Northern-grown seed. Sow about
three to five seeds to the inch, and cover
about one-quarter of an inch deep with
fine soil.
~—Several hundred farmers in the vi
cinity of Harrisburg, Pa., have organized
a produce company on the co-operative
plan, through which they will market the
products of their fields and orchards.
. —The ideal berry ground should be
first, a rich sandy loam with clay subsoil:
second, a dark loam or gravelly loam
mixed lightly with clay and a clay sub-
soil, all having a southerly or eastern
slope.
—A man who raised a 300 pound squash
says he did it by the following method: «
Two wheelbarrow loads of old hen ma-
nure was mixed with the soil in the hill,
being put in quite deep and over a wide
area. Then only one plant was allowed
to remain in the hill, and only one speci-
men of fruit was allowed to remain on
that plant.
—Prices paid to the farmers in the
United States on October 1, as compared
with October 1 of last year, averaged for
potatoes, 30.2 per cent. higher; hay, 22.7
per cent. higher; oats, 17.4 per cent.
higher; corn 7.5 per cent. higher; wheat,
5.7 per cent. lower; chickens 6 per cent.
lower; butter, 9.2 per cent. lower; eggs,
10.7 per cent. lower.
—The National Argicultural Depart-
ment of the United States reports that on
January 1, 1912, there were 20,508,000
horses in the country, against 20,277,000
on January 1, 1911, and 19,833,112 on
April 15. 1910, when the census was
taken. The value of the horses this vear
was estimated at $2,172,573,000, against
$2,259,981,000, a year ago. .
—See that the harness is properly ad-
justed in every particular. As the horse
shrinks in flesh, adjust the harness to fit
the collar. Should the harness be too
loose on top, the collar will move back
and forth and thus make a sore neck, and
if too tight it will pinch and cause the
same trouble. If the harness is too long
it will bring the draft too low down, and
make the points of the shoulders sore.
—In 30 years’ fertilizer experiments at
the Pennsylvania Station it has been
found that pl horous and potash in a
rotation contain clover continue to
maintain soil fertility. Without the ad-
dition of organic matter during 30 years,
except the roots and stubble of the crops
raised, the soil has been kept in a state
of high fertility, the land receiving an
application of six tons of manure every
other vear during the 30 years.
—The United States Department of
Agriculture recommends the following
mixture as a hog tonic: Wood char-
coal, 1 pound; common salt, 2 pounds;
sodium bicarbonate, 2 pounds; sodium
hyposulphate, 2 pounds; sodium sulphate,
1 pound; antimony sulphide, 1 pound.
These substances are thoroughly powder-
ed and mixed. A dose is a large table-
spoonful for each 200 pounds of hog
flesh. It is most conveniently given in a
thin slop.
—If the horses have been practically
idle for some time and thus on a decreas-
ed ration of feed, now that an increase
of the ration must be made you will find
it a good plan to do this very gradually.
Any sudden, radical change of feed is
retty sure to bring bad results. If the
Pr. have been eating straw Shirough the
winter, don’t put them onto hay su ly
and increase their grain ration at the
same time: such a procedure will invari-
ably throw the animal off his feed.
—Garden Hint.—All lovers of flowers
know they are prettiest when arranged
with their own foliage. But the home
gardener has learned that when dealing
with sweet peas it is not always possible
to obtain enough of their leaves to con-
trast, so he grows some plant that gives
. the right sort of foliage for floral combi.
; nations. The annual gypsophlia, a mass
of tiny white flowers, is one of the most
attractive of
—A 1000-pound dairy
seven-tenths pound of d
seven pounds of e carbohydrates
pout of 3 per cent. fat
addition to her maintenance require-
ments one pound of digestible protein,
cates that it contains about 6.2 per cent.
of ni 7.3 per cent, of c
acid 6.6 per cent. of Itis
2
;
age
§
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88%5¢
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this
§238%
should be hitched regularly
days at least before
§
the fi
well be hauled to the fields during
winter days, but which you can attend
now. A few days of work of this
will be of great benefit to the horses
at this time; their
and
much more
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