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Newspaper Page Text
THE CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE
(Copyright, 1914, by the Newspaper Enterprise Association.)
I feel awfully sorry for Mother
Waverly. I think for the first time she
has realized that poor old Dad is not
going to get well.
($ I went over there yesterday morn
ing as soon as I got .home and found
Dad very comfortable, but growing
gradually weaker. Mother Waverly
was almost in a state of collapse and
when she saw me she flung her arms
about me and said: "Margie, didn't
Dick come with you?"
"No, dear, he will not be home for
a week or two yet he has a number
of other places to go on this trip."
"Does Dick know how sick his
father is?" she again asked.
"Yes, I think he does."
"Is it possible that my son knows
that his father is on his deathbed and
yet he stays away from home?" Mrs.
Waverly asked tremblingly.
"The doctor tells us that Dad is in
no immediate danger of dying," I an
swered, "and although Dick would
like to be home his duty to the living
makes it imperative that he should be
away at this time."
I felt as I said this that it was cold
comfort to the dazed and despairing
woman looking for me for some
gleam of hope. I went over and put
my arms about her and said: "What
can I do for you, mother dear? If
you feel able I'll ask Eliene to send
around one of her cars to take us out
for a ride this afternoon."
"Do you think father is well
enough for me to do it?" she asked
(A pathetically. "I'd hate to have him
ask for me and find I was not here.
Oh, Margie, Margie, what will I do
when I can't hear him call?"
"I am sure God will be glad to have
you go for a little while and I'll tele
phone to Eliene right away."
Of course, Eliene was delighted to
send a car and offered to come her
, self and take the twins for an airing
at the same time.
"That will be fine for I am sure
that babies will interest mother when
nothing else will and if you go with
mother I can stay with Dad." After I
had seen them start I went to Dad
while the nurse took her airing.
"Dick did not come with you, Mar
gie?" he asked rather wistfully.
"No, Dad, but if you want him I
know he'll come immediately."
"No," I guess I don't really want
him, Margie, but this dying is mighty
lonesome business, my girl."
I looked up quickly. I had never
been sure before that Dad had known
he was dying.
"I guess one grows to exaggerate,
one's importance as one realizes the
time is coming when one will be of
no importance," he said quizzically
with a little smile. "Because I am go
ing to leave this earth very shortly it
sometimes seems to me as though my
entire family should stop its .affairs
and watch the sands of life ebb."
"We will, dear, we will, if it will
make you any happier," I said as I
chokingly grasped his limp hand,
"It won't, my dear, it won't. I'm
just trying to express to you how the
ego is fighting what it knows to be a
Dear, dear Dad! I wonder if he
ever read that immortal story of Tol
stoy's "The Death of Ivan Ditch."
His passing makes me think of that
wonderful picture drawn by the Rus
sian genius of a man who, taking a
long while to die, is hurt because
those about him are more interested
I expect that when the summons
comes we will all feel that our going
is the most important thing the world
can know and that the sun does not
stop shining or children laughing in
its warm light will seem heartless.
Poor, dear old Dad! I wish I could
spare him this which must come to
most sensitive souls.
(To Be Continued Tomorrow.)
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