THE CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
WHEN A MAN IS SICK.
Chapter XXXV.
When I arrived at the house they
were all at dinner except Dick.
"Hasn't Dick returned yet?" I ask
ed anxiously.
"Yes," answered his mother, "but
he has such a dreadful cold and neu
ralgia headache that he decided not
to come down to dinner,"
I found Dick lying on the bed with
his clothes on. His eyes were red
and one side of his face was all swell
ed up. Poor old chap, he was a sight.
"I'm awfully sorry, Dick. If I had
known you were coming home sick
I would have tried to get home soon
er. Shall I help you get to bed?" I
asked.
"Don't disturb me, for heaven's
sake, Madge. This is the first time
this blamed tooth has stopped aching
today," and then poor Dick com
menced to sneeze.
"You had better come to dinner,
Margie," called Mollie from the foot
of the stairs.
It didn't seem right to leave Dick,
but, to tell the truth, I was hungry,
so I got him another handkerchief,
fixed his pillows, took off his shoes
and threw a quilt over his feet, then
hurried downstairs.
"I thought you had concluded not
to eat any dinner," said Mrs. Wav
erly. "I had to fix Dick up a little," I
answered as I seated myself, and
Mrs. Waverly rang the bell and told
the maid to "bring Mrs. Richard (as
she calls me when speaking to oth
ers) some dinner."
The maid went out sullenly and
Mrs. Waverly remarked that Ellen
always resented anyone coming late
to dinner.'
I felt like an Interloper, but Mollie
smiled at me across the table as she
remarked: "Oh, I guess it won't hurt
her once in a while."
I did find couiage to say that if
Ellen would bimg me a uay vitn
some soup, dessert and coffee I would
take it up to Dick.
"He said he did not want any din
ner," his mother remarked.
"But don't you think something
hot would be good for him?" I asked.
"Sure it would, mother," interrupt
ed Mr. Waverly. "Let Margaret cod
dle the boy if (she wants to she'll
get over it soon; enough."
Mrs. Waverly gave her husband a
look that I hope I shall never have on
my face when I gaze at my husband,
but she said nothing an,d I finished
my dinner in silence and took the
tray up to Dick.
There is nothing romantic about a
man with the neuralgia and a cold
in the head.
Dick only wanted to be let alone
and suffer, but he had no intention
of suffering in silence. Between his
sneezes and coughing he indulged in
many commiserating groans and
some profanity.
At last, with much persuasion, I
managed to get him to eat the food,
and then I put him to bed, with a
hot-water bottle under his aching
jaw.
"My, that feels good, Margie," he
said. "Mother never was much of a
nurse and Mollie gives me" the fidgets,
although she means well."
"Try and go to sleep, dear."
"I think I can," said Dirk, drowsily;
"I am without pain. My dear, you are
a splendid nurse."
(To Be Continued Tomorrow.)
o o
"I suppose you're going to Dr.
Mason's funeral, grandpa?" "Oh,"
snarled the infirm old man, "don't
talk to me about other people's fu
nerals. It's as much as I shall be able
to do to get to my own."
o o
Don't know whether Pres. Wilson
nas anything on the rest of us or not,
bat eveiy time he gets a code id a
ned ne gets nis naDe id a pape.
"-