Jasper County Democrat, Volume 8, Number 30, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 October 1905 — A BACKSLIDER [ARTICLE]

A BACKSLIDER

Rev. Tenter Hooks bounced the teeth* Ing baby first on one knee and then on the other in a vain effort to keep ft quiet. At first, when his wife had begun to leave the baby in his study when she went out on her afternoon rounds, he felt proud of her devotion to church work, but now he was ready for rebel* lion.

He had a fine theme In his mind for next Sunday’s sermon, but the child ■eemed determined to remain awake. He sang “Beulah Land” in slumberous drones anti twice had the child in its cradle, but twice it caught him in the act and shrieked at his treachery ip trying to get rid of it. At last he plumped it on a rug in the center of the floor and strode to the window-. No sign of his wife. Let the child bawl! It would bawl anyway. Mary, the servant, was ironing in the basement. It wouldn’t do to call her from that important work. Her work was so much more important than his. Away over the housetops he could see the steeple of his church. How other clergymen envied him! But if they only knew! If—they—only—knew—spending his week doing the work of a nursegirl; drawing his sermons from his inner consciousnet®; not allowed—no, not allowed—to prepare sermons as others did! The carpenter going daily to his work is regarded as a man by his wife, but because he didn’t pound an jinvU or saw and plane boards his wife regarded him as a sort of ordained nfrrsegirl, a sanctified domestic servant! He was in her sight an assistant house helper, and sweeping and l®eping tho house tidy was the main thing. His profession was nothing, his sermons eothing, his career nothing! Impatiently he grabbed a newspaper that lay folded with nice precision on a table and threw it on the floor. That gave him an idea. He would flare up and be the man of the house.

Seizing the baby, he squeezed it firmly in his arms, and by sheer concentration of forces sang and rocked it to sleep. He plumped the child roughly in the cradle, twisted a coverlet over it and was somewhat astonished to see that it peacefully slumbered on. “That’s a good start,” he muttered. Then he took the rug from the study floor and tossed it into the hallway. He hated that rug. It was the emblem of his servitude as nurse. —ln a drawer he found the key of his study and putting this in his pocket resolved that hereafter he would lock himself in with his books and manuscripts three hours a day. He would run his own house even if he had to run everybixlj' else out of it. Then he got out his hat, two or three of his hats, and brushed them furiously in the drawing room” Mrs. Hooks never allowed him to brush anything elsewhere than in the kitchen. He would show her—better still, he would refuse to brush anything anywhere, not even his waistcoat. ‘‘There." he said, throwing the whisk on the floor, ‘‘if she wants it hung on the wall she can hang it on the wall. Hereafter I shall decline to see a whisk holder or a slipper holder or any other of the—the handcuffs that I’ve submitted to.” In rummaging for a clean chief he found something. It was a cigar.

“Her brother Ned left this here,” he said, turning it about in his Angers. “Why not? Decidedly, why not?" he replied to some inward suggestion. He drew a handful of matches from a neat holder on the wall, deliberately flung them in disorder on a stand and lit the cigar. “Now, then, let her come home and have it out,” he said, puffing wickedly at the cigar, a treat he had not enjoyed for three years. He put bis heels upon the little round table, with its dainty hand painted covering, and waited. His wrongs trooped complainingly before his view and be was filled with indignant surprise that he had submitted as long as lie had. Then he heard laughing voices at the door. From the window he saw Mrs. Hooks and a spectacled lady, powerful in raising mission funds, chatting there. “After all,” he said reflectively, “I suppose this is hardly the proper tiling,” and lie held the cigar stub up between thumb and finger. “There’s no use putting myself in the wrong at the outset.”

He stepped out to the grate in ths hall and with the tongs punched ths cigar deep Into the hot coals. Taking a corner of his handkerchief In each hand, he whipped the air to dispel the wreaths of smoke. They dodged this way and that guiltily in quest of hiding and then took the disguise of air. Looking from the window, he saw his wife still talking with the spectacled lady. The matches—he mustn't leave them tossed about, for they hinted of that villainous cigar. Luckily women are talkative at parting and so there yet remained time to replace ths whisk In the holder. ..Perhaps he could even get the rug back in its place, and the hats—oh, yes, the hats—he had nearly forgotten them. Good—not a trace left. “No use letting her see that I’ve been In a passion,” be muttered. “Well, dear, is the little pet sleeping?” inquired Mrs. Hooks, fluttering: a-tlptoe to the cradle. “Yes, dear,” he said. “The wee darling!" she gloated.—Saturday Night