Be Courteous - or, Religion, the True Refiner by Mrs. M. H. Maxwell
page 44 of 85 (51%)
page 44 of 85 (51%)
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seat, that her poor besotted husband might pass to his bed of straw;
but he did not pass in,--he only looked at her for a moment, and then averted his eye, for very shame because she had perceived that he was not drunk. The bag which he had carried week after week to the mills and brought home every night empty, because he deemed rum more necessary for himself than food for his family, was now filled with flour; but he said nothing, and she too was silent, as she followed him into the hut, and took the large basket which he offered her. Opening this basket, she found a note, and returning to the door, read as follows:-- "MRS. GRAFFAM:--_Dear Madam_,--I was not able to come and fetch our good Dora to see you to-day; but your husband has kindly promised to call this evening, and take the little matters which I have put up for the dear sick baby; and to-morrow, if it please God, we will see you at your own house. "Your friend, EMMA LINDSAY." Graffam looked at his wife as she came in with the note, and, notwithstanding she had lately spoken very harsh words to him, he pitied her, and somehow felt as though she was not greatly to blame for calling him an "unfeeling brute." On the other hand, as Mrs. Graffam took the things from the basket, she glanced toward her husband, and thought to herself, "He is sober to-night, and it is all owing to the kind politeness of that dear girl. His self-respect is not entirely gone, for he would not appear drunk before Emma. If I could command patience to treat him with civility, there might be some hope in that;" so turning toward him she asked, "Have you taken supper, Mr. Graffam?" |
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