Lincoln High School - Lincolnian Yearbook (Tacoma, WA)

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l2 THE LINCOLNIAN funny, and John bounced out of with a thud and came downstairs. The tears stood in Kate's grey eyes. Oh, she giggled. Fancy me having a beau at my age! At your age! said Myra. You talk like you were fifty. lt would be a more sensible age for having beaux like them! So they laughed more and did not talk seriously about Kate's admirers for two days. Then sitting on the back step, watching the children play, and shelling peas, Myra decided that the occasion merited putting the men to a test, as the heroines in novels do, and picking out one. Then you can decide whether you want to marry that one or not: any- wayihe will be the best of the three. Well, said Kate, l'll think about it. What would you say were the requirements of a good husband? Faithfulness first. This was the only noticeably husbandly quality that Myra's husband possessed, so she made the most of it. He will have to be good to the children. And not treat you like a slave. And good-natured. And thoughtful about birthdays and suchlikef' -Q And industrious. And home-loving. Willing to wash dishes! Handy about the garden. Not too stupid to have around. Thrifty, so he will have some- thing saved up for your old age. Yah, l'll never be old. Yes, you will, and then you will wish- One thing--he must be willing to stay up with Rosie when she has the toothache, and Ed when he has the earache. Well, it wonit hurt if he is good to them, but he should-be firm and not spoil them like you do. Me spoil them! l'd like to know what you do, Myra Doran! with your teaparties every afternoon and your baking every day for them! Well, we'll ra, blushing, and talk about your drop them, said My- suitors. What you want to do is to a few tests. then? put them thru What tests, Well, l know what l'd do. Tell me, then, for goodness sake! l don't know what l'd do. lf they are faithful and anxious about you they will find your address and write. That's easy. If they don't write, that leaves them out. Yes, but they will probably all write if they are as interested as you tell. Then you can try them out on housework, and there you will prob- ably lose one, anyway, because men do hate housework. Then have some trouble and if any of them survives you can marry him. lt sounds easy! It started easy, for Mr. Bell was ruled out the next day because he hadn't written to inquire anxiously about the widow's welfare. But when they went home a few days later he met them at the depot and seemed so glad to see the children that Mrs. Mallory's heart melted and she felt inclined to try him again. The housework test was harder. The sight of Mr. Benson dabbing at the plates and Rosie watching him in open-eyed wonder was too much for gravity, so for more amusement she suggested that he amuse Rosie while she finished washing the dishes. Ro- sie was too polite to refuse to play with him, but she was disdainful and John was inclined to laughter. Mr. Benson's idea of play was to go down on all fours and make rushes at Rosie, who simply walked away and waited for him to get up and be- have. At last, perspiring and flushed,

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The Wooing of a Widow ARGRETTA DUNLAP, 'l9. OU knew when you met her that the Widow Mallory was Irish. It might have been her dusky crowning glory, it might have been her merry grey eyes or her pretty pink cheeks, or her tilted nose, or her dimples: but whatever it was, it was not any accent in her speech, for she spoke American Eng- lish, sometimes with wilful disregard of grammar. She was fond of the expression, Ain't us, kids? when talking to her three children. john, the oldest, was dark and sullen in ap- pearance, but had a disposition which was the widow's joy and despair. Unexpectedness was the keynote of his character, and though she was always expecting the unexpected it never failed to surprise her. Rosie, five, chubby and slow, serene, even- tempered, was the real baby of the family and sweetly accepted all the coddling and spoiling she received. But Edward! Ed, the violent, the rude, Ed the gentle deceiver, was the cause of loss of sleep, of worry, of secret spasms of laughter on his mother's part. His supreme ego had carried him successfully through near- ly four years of life. He got every- thing he wanted from a deferred bedtime hour to weird articles of clothing. He had only to fix on Rosie a commanding stare and she handed him the cocky or the ba- nana or whatever it was she had that he wanted, and got it back af- ter he had taken a bite. But he was not as bad as that sounds, for he was usually quite well-mannered. The widow and her children all lived together in a little brown house. There was a hedge around the little brown house, and in this hedge you might find anything from Rosie's dolls' clothes to the long, lank cat flong and lank from the loving of john and Rosie and Edl that be- longed to one of the irate neighbors. The hedge kept in the loud disputes of john and Ed, and the sight of the widow shamelessly playing teaparty with Rosie, and it kept out the little ruffian sons of the aforementioned irate neighbors. But these are not all the charac- ters in this story. There were three others: Mr. Bell, Mr. Kenney and Mr. Benson, bachelors three, enamor- ed of the Widow Mallory, and fre- quent visitors, each alone and some- times all in a body, to the little brown house. Mr. Bell was round and merry, and brought candy and big, fat oranges: Mr. Kenney was round and serious and brought books: Mr. Benson was nervous and hasty and brought only himself. Mr. Bell the children en- dured, Mr. Kenney they disliked, and Mr. Benson they ardently despised. lnteresting as this arrangement was, of visitors often and many gifts for the widow fstill more for the chil- drenl, it could not last indefinitely. Things began to be serious: the bach- elors three came more often separ- ately and more often left in a body, the candy came oftener, the books became more serious, and Mr. Ben- son more nervous. So Mrs. Mallory ran away. That is, she put on the children's hats, hastily packed a suit- case and took the train for her sis- ter's home across the state. When she sedately led the children up her sister's walk, no questions were asked: only, after the way of sisters, the reason for the sudden visit came out in the long talk over the late supper table. Together they laughed until Myra's husband came in from his garden to see what was

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TH'E L1.N.c.oLNlAN I3 he arose, mopping his brow, and' said he would prefer to dry dishes. So he was out of the gameg only tem- porarily, it turned out, for he squan: dered several dollars on a pretty doll for Rosie, winning her heart com- pletely. I Mr. Bell behaved beautifully when called on to display his housewifely ability. He took off his coat, rolled up his sleeves and plunged into the soapsuds, his broad face contrasting happily with Mr. Benson's uneasy ex- pression the evening before. Not only did he wash the dishes, but skilfully swept up the crumbs from under the table, explaining that he had done it years before for his mother. Then, told to amuse the children, he organized a screamingly exciting game Lof tag, he himself sprinting nimbly about obstructions and contributing to the noise. Mr. Bell certainly has made a good showing tonight, reflected the widow. But l'll have to give him an extra test to make up for his not writing. And she laughed, showing that her affections were not deeply concerned. Mr. Kenney failed dismally in both trials, explaining that housework was the woman's job, and trying to im- prove John's mind by reading him a stupid poem about birds. John lis- tened interestedly, but told his moth- er later Mr. Kenney was an awful fool. njohnl you little villain, how can you! Mr. Kenney is a nice man. Maybe you think so. A Run along and call Rosie: it's getting dark. Things ran along for a month or more, when the Benson one proposed out of a clear sky. Er-Mrs. Mallory, l don't suppose -ah-l don't suppose 1 er 1 you'd marry me? The widow gasped and blushed and looked as if she had done something wicked. Subconsciously she noticed Mr. Bensorfs hair growing on the back of his neck, and she said: No, no, l can't, no, the children --Myra-no, l wouldn't. It was not very romantic, but it excluded poor Benson finally. About this time Mr. Kenney left town for a week and during his absence the little brown house was very quiet, Mr. Bell not putting in an appear- ance. When he did come he explain- ed that he had been helping to amuse his landlady's Eastern guests. The widow was piqued and planned a sud- den ending to the farce for the next week. Tuesday afternoon a sad voice asked Mr. Kenney over the 'phone to call that evening, and Mr. Bell's land- lady sympathetically took a message for him. Promptly at seven the two men arrived at the opening in the hedge around the little brown house, and, eyeing each other questioningly, hurried up the walk. The house was quiet, the shades were drawn, and a sober widow met them at the door. Come in, she said, controlling her countenance remarkably: this is to be a sort of farewell party. Farewell party! from Mr. Bell. Farewell party! from Mr. Ken- ney. Yes, l heard something this after- noon that will take us out of your circle. What, for lord's sake? Mr. Bell was disturbed. . Well, smiling as near wistfully as possible, you know my finances were limited, anyway, and now l have almost nothing, and l'll have to work in a laundry or somewhere to earn our living. No, neverl l'll sell all l own first! This manly exclamation came from Mr. Kenney. You will never be compelled to do that! l have