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International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jun 3, 1886

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 12, No. 21.

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By Sidney Dayre

“WHAT time are we going away this summer, John?” asked Mrs. Brace of her husband.
“Why, Laura, I was wondering if we could not draw in a little on our summer doings this season. Times are very hard, and—”
“Do you mean to say that we are not to go to the sea-shore, or to the mountains?” she asked in some surprise.
“Why, I thought perhaps we would manage the matter more cheaply somehow. But if you really think it must be done, of course it must.”
“I don’t know how it would do to keep the children in town.”
“If you think they need it, all right, my dear. I think you need a change more than they do, to shake off your cares.”
He spoke affectionately, and she kissed him and considered it sealed, as he added:—
“I shall have to take you and the children and leave you where you decide to go, and then go for you. I must stay by the business; so I’ll sleep in the house while you are gone, and take my meals down town.”
Mrs. Brace had been brought up with the idea that husbands were to be teased and coaxed a little on points of expenditure. To do her justice, she was quite willing to do her part in economizing when she thought it necessary, but had become so accustomed to the idea of business men earning in offices and warehouses the money to be spent for home and its luxuries, that she lived along with little thought as to whether the burden of life was equally divided between man and wife.
John wished her good-by as he left for the day’s business, and soon afterwards the morning mail brought her a letter from a favorite cousin which read thus:—
DEAR LAURA: We are going to the Thousand Isles this year, and want you to join us there. We want to make a good, long summer of it, so couldn’t you be ready by June 15. Wish you would let me know, if possible, by return mail, for Henry will wait until we hear from you, when he will write and engage accommodations for all of us. And say what amount of room you will need. Lovingly yours, KATE.
The proposal was a very pleasant one.
“I believe,” she said to herself, “as Kate is in a hurry, I’ll take a run down and talk to John about it, after I have finished my shopping this morning. It will make a longer absence this summer than we expected, but he will agree to it if I ask him, and then I can let Kate know by the afternoon mail.”
Two hours later Mrs. Brace was making her way further down town than she had ever been before. A street-car carried her through unknown distances of tall, solid, unattractive looking buildings, very different from those on the avenues and thoroughfares which made up “the city” to her. She was set down in a bewildering confusion of drays and express wagons, contriving after some inquiry to find that one of the dingy buildings was the mill which ground out her share of the good things of life. Little of luxury found its home here. Sunshine could not make its way between the high walls, and at some desks gas was burning near noon of this bright day. And there were unwholesome smells which Mrs. Brace did not like.
It was a busy place, much loading and unloading, and running to and fro, and referring to managers and clerks. Mrs. Brace at length caught sight of her husband. So many seemed to be claiming his attention that she sat down on a box and waited. Glancing at his face she was struck with an expression unlike any she had ever seen upon it at home. The look of keen, nervous attention to what was going on seemed to bring out a sharpness of feature which was new to her, although it had occurred to her once or twice lately that John was looking rather thinner than usual. But it had quickly passed from her mind and she now gazed uneasily as it became more and more impressed upon her that he really was changed.
A slight lull in the demands upon him brought upon his face in place of the air of alertness, a languid, careworn look which smote her heart. He leaned his head upon his hand and then started as she gently laid her hand on his shoulder.
“You here, Laura? Is anything wrong?”
“No, I—was down town and took it into my head to make you a visit.”
He was gratified at seeing her, and led her about the warehouse, explaining things pertaining to the business.
“Come with me, and spend the rest of the day at home, John,” she urged, when taking leave of him.
“Couldn’t do it, dear. Business is pressing.”
In her tasteful home with its light cares, regarded so tenderly by John, she had never taken a thought of what his burdens and his surroundings might be. Now she had seen the business place and his business face.
“I have been selfish and heartless,” she said to herself. “How could I ever endure it to spend my days in such a place? And to think how quietly I agreed with poor John, that he could stay at work all summer, while the rest of us went away for our health—which simply means for a good time. Not one of us needs to go half so much as he does.”
Arriving at home, she wrote to Cousin Kate her regrets that she could not join her party.
“I have been thinking, John,” she said to him the same evening, “that wherever we go this summer you must go too.”
“I can’t get away, Laura. It will require the most careful watching to pull through these times.”
“Then we’ll all stay. Look at us; we’re all well. The children are as plump and rosy as cherubs. We have more yard room than many others have, and we’ll give them some cheap little runs into the country and days in the parks, as the hot weather comes on.”
“You don’t mean to stay at home all summer, Laura?”
“Well, when it gets late in the season we might spend a week or two up at Uncle John’s farm, if you will go too. It would make the summer expenses very light. Will it be much of a help to you?”
“Help? Why, Laura, it will be half the burden off.”
“Oh, John,” she said, with her arm about him, “that’s just the proportion of it that I want to bear.”—Sidney Dayre, in Congregationalist.