Demorraiic alfa
sro! :
Bellefonte, Pa., February 19, 1915.
HER OWN TRUE WAY.
“John, you must never think of it—
I know my place. I also know that no
mother-in-law can live in peace with
a son’s wife.”
“But Nellie says that is all non-
gense. She wants you.”
“I don’t doubt she says that out of
courtesy and respect, but you two
must do as your dead father and I did,
begin to live on your own resources
unhampered by any meddling or un-
welcome relative.”
So John Marcy reluctantly left the
lonely old woman he loved just as he
did when a boy. It was 25 miles to
the new home to which he had led
Nellie a bride a month agone. They
had spent a month in traveling. Now
they were settling down to practical
housekeeping. :
“Qh, dear!” greeted him in a grieved
tone as he reached home that even-
ing. “You didn’t bring mother with
you?”
“She wouldn’t come, dear.”
“Not even for a visit?” pouted Nel
lie.
“Not even for that. Tell you, Nel
lie, you're the sweetest little woman
in the world, but mother says it would
be wrong for her to intrude on you,
and wrong for you to encourage her.”
“Why, John! I love your mother
as if she were my own.”
But John recalled what his wise old
mother had told him. He had great
faith in her mature judgment. He had
made up his mind to follow her advice.
He pretty definitely told Nellie so, and
she pouted over it and shed a few
tears.
“All the time I have planned to
have mother here,” she declared, al
most sobbing. “I suppose you think
I'm just saying that to please you.
I'm not. Mother shall come—see if
ghe don’t!” =
“Never!” asserted John, thinking
he knew best.
“All right; wait and see,” observed
Nellie. “Just the grandest dear in
the world, my John,” whispered Nellie
to herself. “As to his mother, she’s
WEE
TEC ERE
He Was Not Quite Himself.
an angel. They've thought of nothing
but me, selfish little me, and the old
time-worn tradition that a son’s wife
can’t get along with the mother. Yes,
she shall come and—she shall stay!”
John sat at the tea table after the
meal three evenings later.
not quite himself. Nellie secretly
Yeiled the mischief in her eyes as she
poted his mood.
“I say,” observed John, “we've had
codfish for three nights.”
“Yes,” nodded Nellie. “I bought a
lot of it so we wouldn't run out. Why,
John?” mn i A
F “Well—er, do you call it fried, or
boiled, or roasted?”
“It’s a kind of fricassee.”
“H’m!” mumbled John. “Suppose
werhave a change. Baker's bread, too.
Mother always had biscuits.”
“Yes, John, dear, and beautiful ones,
too. I'll cook some.” »
Which Nellie did. And the next
evening, after choking on two of them,
when she was not looking John
walked to the window, threw a third
biscuit wrathfully at a passing dog
and sent the animal off yelping as if
he had been struck by a cannon ball.
“Bread tomorrow, John,” announced
Nellie, never losing her domestic op
timism. “I've found a lovely recipe.”
“All right—don’t make any more
biscuits, though.”
“Why, John?”
“Well, you see—that is, I like bread
best.”
“] gee!” said Nellie, biting her
tongue to keep from laughing out
right.
John came home the next evening
to find Nellie standing in dismay out:
gide the kitchen window. Upon ite
gill rested a great pan. Overflowing
it on all sides were streams and trick:
lings of sticky, pasty dough.
It bad painted the sill and the side
of the house. It lay in wads and
chunks across the lilac bushes. There
was a pool of it on the grass.
“Why, Nellie! What is the mat
ter?” questioned her amazed helpmeet.
“The bread, John. I put in only
four cakes of yeast and that is what
it did. The flour can’t have been any
good.”
John groaned. After supper he wan-
dered restlessly about the house.
When he talked it was about home
and mother. ;
The next day, as Nellie passed fro
He was |
| the kitchen to the dining room, she
saw a tramp just leaving through the
: open front door, her husband’s second
| best overcoat under his arm.
Nellie did not run after him. She
| only smiled. She was, however, sober-
, taced enough when she told the an-
| noyed John of the incident.
| “You see, John,” she explained
| plaintively, “I'm all alone here. I
' can’t watch every part of the house |
all of the time.”
i ily.
| was making a great effort to muster
i up the courage to say something.
i
“Yes, I see,” said John rather sulk- |
Then Nellie discerned that he |
“Look here, Nellie,” he blurted out
| finally. “You're a sweet little woman
and all that, but a fellow must eat.”
murely.
“I don’t want to offend you, but you
don’t know how to cook.”
“No, John, but can’t I learn?”
“Who from?’ asked John hopefully.
Nellie in a forlorn way. :
“I do,” cried John, “mother. We'll
have her here to teach you for a
month.”
“No, John,” dissented Nellie delib-
erately.
“Rh?”
“Not for a month.
to stay, yes.”
“But—"
* “That’s all, John,” declared the lit-
tle lady firmly. “Do as you please,
but those are my terms.”
“Humph! got a mind of her own
when she’s aroused,” reflected John,
alone later. “Dear little chick!” And
mother, after a stormy discussion with
her son, came the next day.
What a glowing loving heart to
If she will come
old mother the affectionate confiding
wife had! How sadly Nellie spoke
of her dead mother, how tenderly to
this lonely woman whom she asked
to share her heart and home.
And what a royal meal for John
that evening! How his eyes sparkled
at the goodly array of eatables! No
biscuits like rocks, no doubtful roast,
no burned pudding!
“Ah,” he observed, “let us see how
soon mother can make a graduate of
you in cookery, Nellie.”
“Why, son,” spoke Mrs. Marcy, a
radiant smile on her face, “Nellie has
been teaching me all the afternoon.”
“Teaching what?” asked John.
“Cookery.”
“Rut—""
“Now listen, John,” spoke his
mother, winding one loving arm about
Nellie and holding her close. “You
have got a jewel here.”
“I always knew that,” declared
John.
wants me here, that I've got to stay,
just to be in the sunshine of her lov-
ing smiles. Those biscuits—"
John made a wry face.
“And the bread—"
John threw up his hands in direful
dismay at the memory. >
“Were all frauds, innocent frauds,”
went on the old woman. “She was
bound to drive you to haveeme here.
She made those biscuits like rocks
and spoiled the bread and let that
thief get away with your coat—"
“Just because I love your mother
almost as much as yourself,” added
Nellie.
“Oh, you darling! cried John en-
thusiastigally. “You are just the dear-
est little wife in the world!”
“And a daughter-in-law to be proud
of,” supplemented his old mother.
(Copyright, 1914, by W. G. Chapman.)
TO HONOR GEORGE CRABBE
Trowbridge (England) People to Hold
Celebration in Memory of a
Poet-Rector.
Preparations are being made at
Trowbridge, Wiltshire, England, for
holding in June an appropriate cele-
bration in honor of George Crabbe,
the poet, who held the rectory of
Trowbridge for more than eighteen
FATS. isis hamagsn han so :
It was on June 3, 1814, that Crabbe’s
induction took place. He was in his
sixtieth year and nearly half his life-
time had been spent since the success
tion into fashionable and literary cir-
cles of eminence and fame which it
secured for him.
The rectory is an old-fashioned
house with tiled roofs and high-pitched
gables and in summer a green pro-
fusion of creeper upon its walls. Such
was Crabbe’s home for 18 years, and
he rarely left it except to pay occa-
sional visits to London or to friends
in Suffolk. In his library, when the
rest of the household was abed, he set-
tled himself to his work, with his snuff
box ready to hand and a glass of
brandy and water by him, oblivious
of the confusion of the room, the rat-
tling windows and the absence of
paint where paint should have been.
Strong Competition.
In Colorado, remember, the women
vote as well as the men.
In the fall of 1910 a man named
Smith was running for sheriff against
a man named Jones. One evening
just before election Smith rode up to
the barn-yard of an old farmer. The
farmer was milking a cow and was
having difficulty with a lusty calf that
continually tried to “butt in.” The
candidate, to gain the favor of the
farmer, took the calf between his legs
and held it until the milking was done.
He then introduced himself: “I am
Mr. Smith, the Republican candidate
i for sheriff of the county. I suppose
you know the man who’s running
against me?” »
The farmer's eyes twinkled as he
slowly drawled: “Waal, I reckon I
do. He's in the house now, holding
the baby.”—Everybody’s.
“Yes, John,” responded Nellie de- |
“] don’t know, indeed,” murmured |
heart talk with the doubting, fearful |
“She has so surely proved that she
of “The Village” and the introduc~ :
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Bush Arcade Building, BELLEFONTE, PA
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FAUBLE
BELLEFONTE, PENNA.
58-4
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Hardware.
LYON & COMPANY.
Daily Arrival of New
pring Goods
Advance showing of 1915 Dress Fabrics
in Silks, Woolens, Voiles, Organdies, and
Imported and Domestic Ginghams.
Everything new h stripes, checks and
floral effects.
ETI
Clearance Sale
of all Winter Stuffs still continued. All
Coats and Suits for Ladies, Misses
and Children at less than cost.
Lyon & Co. su Bellefonte
SPECIAL...
Inventory Sale
First Quality Granite Tea Kettle, No. 8, 30C.
Eight-quart Berlin Kettle . 39¢C.
Ten-quart ater Pail . 39C.
Seventeen-quart Dishpan ° 39C.
Ten-quart Preserving Kettle : . . 30C.
A Granite Wash Basin or 2 Granite Pie Plates free with any of the above.
A FEW OF THE SPECIALS
for our Annual Inventory Sale:
$1.25 Universal Food Chopper, No. 1 .98
1 oo O-Cedar Mops : . : 75
1.50 O-Cedar Mops $1.25
.75 Axes . ‘ . . .50
Six-foot Rule . . ; : . .15
One Set Brace and Bits : . . 3 .99
Eight-ince Mill Files 8c each or two for .15
105 Carriage Bolts, assorted Sa : .50
Paring Knives 3c. ro-inch Agri. rench. .35
Claw Hammers 12¢c. Ten-quart Dishpan .10
SPECIAL BARGAINS IN HORSE BLANKETS.
$1.50 Blankets $1.00. $1.75 Blankets $1.29
2.50 2 1.98. 3.00 at © 2.19
The Potter-Hoy Hardware Co.
BELLEFONTE, PA.
59-11-1y
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