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Newspaper Page Text
GETTING HER WAY
By Gertrude Mary Sheridan.
(Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
"John,-you mustneyer think of it
I know my place. I alsolmow that no
mother-in-law can live in peace with
a son's wife."
"But Nellie says that is all non
sense. She wants you."
"I don't doubt she says that out of
courtesy and respect, but you two
j , He Was Not Quite Himself.
it I must do as your dead father and I did,
f begin to live xm your own resources
j unhampered by any meddling or un-
t welcome relative."
F r So John Marcy reluctantly left the
E lonely old woman he loved just as he
I did when a boy. It was 25 miles to
i I 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 practice
"Oh, dear!" greeted him in a griev
ed tone as he reached home that
evening. "You didn't bring mother
"She wouldn't come, dear."
"Not even for a visit?" pouted Nel
lie. "Not even for tnat- Tell you, Nel
lie, you're the sweetest httle 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 ad
vice. He pretty definitely told Nellie
so, and she pouted over it and shed a
"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
"Never!' 'asserted John, thinking
he knew best
"All right! wait and see," observed
Nellie. "Just the grandest dear in
the world, my John," whispered Nel
lie to her self. "As to mother, she's
an angel. They've thought of noth
ing 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
John sat at the tea table after the
meal three evenings later. He was
not quite himself. Nellie secretly
veiled the mischief in her eyes as she
noted his mood.
"I say," observed John, "we've had
codfish for three nigb,ts."
"Yes," nodded Nellie. "I bought a
lot of it so we wouldn't run out. Why,
"Well er, do you call it fried, or
bailed, or roasted?"
"It's a kind of fricasee."
"ITm!" mumbled John. "Suppose