Failure to Provide By Annie D. Palmer "Have you been over to look at that automobile I told you about, Park?" No, I haven't." Park Adams answered his wife rather suh lenly. The question hurt. "Why don't you go? Phil says it's as good as new and is offered for only $800. Maybe you could buy it for even less than that. I really think you ought to go and see it." "Marie, I have tried awfully hard to impress you with the idea that I can't buy an automobile this year — in fact I don't know that I can ever buy one. What, then, is the use of going to look?" "I did not think you had given it up entirely. You have been working every day since spring opened; and we have lived very economically all winter. Why, even the children have given up picture shows, and you and I have been regular hermits because our clothes weren't fit to go out in." "And in spite of all that, I have paid only fifty out of the four hundred dollars charged to us at the hospital." "Don't remind me of the hospital any more! I hate the horrid place! And I don't care if the bill is never paid!" "But I care. It is an honest debt, and I mean to pay it." "Honest debt, indeed! Honest nothing! If it were one- fourth its size it might be honest. More than that is robbery." "Maybe so, Marie, and yet if it were four times its size, I should struggle to get it settled sometime. We didn't ask the price you know, when we took you there. Your life was spared and—" "And I might just as well have died! I would rather have died if I'm always to have the hospital flung in my teeth when 1 need to spend a dollar!" "My dear, I shall never mention it to you again; but if I never ride in an automobile in my life, I hope some day to hold up my head again and be able to say, 'I owe no man a dollar.' " "That means, then, that this eternal grind of poverty is to go on indefinitely?" "It means that I shall work early and late, that I shall limit my expenditures to the bare necessities, and — that — " "Oh, go on and say it. That you expect me to do likewise. But I am tired of it! I am so tired of it that I think vou had

FAILURE TO PROVIDE 801 better give me the portion that is mine and let me manage my own affairs." "Marie ! Surely you — why, woman, you can't mean — " "Yes; I mean exactly what I say! It has been coming to me slowly ever since the hospital. I can't stand it any longer and I won't try. I can get a divorce for 'failure to provide.' " "But, Marie — the children — I — I love them so. You can't—" "All four of the children are minors. They will stay with me. "And I shall go away alone! Shall wander forth homeless and alone! Oh, God, pity me! God pity me!" With a great sob of pain that seemed to rend his heart asunder, Park Adams threw himself down on the couch where he sat, and buried his face in the pillow. His wife left the room, bidding the little children come to her in the garden. The two little girls followed quickly, but ten-year-old Julian noticed his father's grief and longed to comfort him. Going to the couch the litle fellow threw his arms about the neck of the sobbing man and clung to him. "Are you sick, papa?" he asked. "No, my boy — only sorry," sobbed the father. "Papa, I won't be a naughty boy." "God bless you, darling. Be good to mama, always, and pray for papa sometimes, will you?" "Where are you going, papa?" "I don't know. Away off somewhere to work. Where is Maida?" "Taking her music lesson, papa. You know she goes every Saturday." "Tell her papa loves her — and hopes she will grow up — to be — a lovely woman — ." The strong man was choked with his grief. "A lovely woman, like mama?" interrupted the lad. "Yes. A lovely woman like mama. Goodbye." Hastily the father put a few articles of clothing in his suit- case and was gone. So the man fared forth, and the woman had her way. Was he weak to yield so readily to her whim? He knew Marie and lie was sure this was no passing whim ! On matters of minor im- portance Marie Adams could be argued with, could even change her mind. But not on things of this nature. Park remembered how, fifteen years before, her parents and all her family had tried to pursuade her to mary Ephraim Duke. She had heard them respectfully to the end of the last chapter, and then quietly informed her mother that she had chosen Park Adams for her husband and that if they were to produce all the lords and earls

802 IMPROVEMENT ERA and dukes of Europe, she would still marry Park Adams. And now, gradually for her, very suddenly for him, they had come to the parting of the ways. Even so. He must submit. Mrs. Adams gathered the children about her in the shadiest nook in the garden and read stories to them for an hour. Then she returned to the house and to work. If she had any regret for the step she had taken, she drove away the thought of it with an array of self-justification. Why couldn't they be like other people anyway? and have some new furniture, and better clothes? Why should not she spend a winter in California or enjoy seeing the wonders of Yellowstone Park? Why should she always walk while her friends whirled past her in their splendid cars? What was the use of being tied to a man who was not able to take care of her, anyway? Perhaps some day if she were free — but no she must not even think that — so she went on comparing her lot always with the worldly-rich, never with the unfortunate. At nine o'clock next Monday morning Mrs. Adams was carefully arranging her hair before the mirror. She was going to see Attorney Ray about the legal proceedings against her husband. She had heard that Attorney Ray was a very pleasant and agreeable man. Perhaps she foolishly imagined that a matter of personal appearance might in some way modify the size of the attorney's fee. Be that as it may she was, this morn- ing, bestowing special care upon the curling and braiding and arranging of her very beautiful hair. "Mama dear, here's a letter from papa. The 'postum' says it is from papa." It was baby Clara who came running in with the letter. Mrs. Adams tore it open and read : Marie: I have sold my tools and got enough money to finish the last payment on the house. Mr. Ray will hand you the deed, which is made and recorded in your name. It will be a source of comfort to me to know that you and the children will never be homeless. There is $75 in the bank which is at your disposal, and flour paid for in the mill to last you about a year. I am doubtful as to whether or not I should leave you my account books, but I think I shall. You may be able to collect some. Do not push that "failure" suit. You will probably never hear from me again and "desertion" will be easy. Take good care of our children — God bless them. Goodbye, Park. But Marie did push the suit because she had "made up her mind," and because she imagined that the oppression which was growing on her mind, would be relieved when once all was settled. Ah, little did she realize the heavy load she had as- sumed, or the anxiety that would be hers because of it. In less than a month the Weekly Bulletin reported that Mrs. Marie

FAILURE TO PROVIDE 803 Adams had filed suit for divorce against Park Adams, her hus- band, for failure to provide.

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The Commercial Club had held a long and interesting ses- sion. The question under fire was that of establishing a cash basis in business. Most of the members favored the move but a few stoutly declared that work and trade would come to a sudden standstill if such measure were adopted. Jacob Budge, the strongest opponent of the "no credit" system, had succeeded in getting the meeting adjourned, so the question was still left open. Now the club men stood around in groups commenting upon and arguing phases that had not been brought out in the discussion. "By George, there ought to be a law that would compel men to pay their debts," said Orson Tibbs, the carpenter. "I spend as much time trying to collect as I do in earning my money, and it's a whole lot harder work." "You're in mighty great luck if you get it at all," added the little lame cobbler. If all the shoes I have mended and got nothing for, should suddenly walk together in a heap, there would be a great lot of people barefoot." "Business men should be shrewd enough to know their customers, and trust only where the pay is sure. If they are not, they ought to lose, and I have no sympathy with their sniveling." A derisive laugh followed this remark of Mr. Budge, but the laugh immediately dropped into dead silence, for Mr. Budge was immensely rich and was aspiring to the legislature. Suddenly some of the men remembered that it was time to go home and there were leave-takings and change of topics. Mr. Budge was among those who departed. "Say, fellows, do you know what broke up Park Adams?" The question was asked by Attorney Webb who still sat with a number of others around the large square table. "His wife was granted a divorce last week. Failure to Pro- vide, wasn't it?" asked one of the group. "Failure to Provide, yes. But why the failure? There wasn't a better blacksmith in the state than Park. He always had work and he always did it. He used neither beer nor to- bacco, and played no games of chance. He should have been among the well-to-do. Why did he fail?" "Extravant wife, perhaps," ventured another. "Extravagant wife? No. She couldn't be extravagant. She was kept right down to pinching poverty. No, boys, it was this damning credit business that did it, and nothing else. Jacob Budge owes that man four hundred dollars today." "What became of Adams?"

804 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Hasn't been heard from, directly, since the day he left home. He sent money rgularly to his wife for ten months, but always in bills with every clue to his whereabouts carefully con- cealed. He also sent money to the hospital to cover his in- debtedness there. In the last two months there has been noth- ing— he seems to have failed again." "Too bad, I believe I owe him something like ten dollars, mvself," said Jim Lowe whose conscience began to hurt. "There's a mighty good chance to pay it to his family," answered the attorney. "Poor little Mrs. Adams! She has found that her own providing is a blamed sight worse than his. In fact she hasn't been able to provide at all, and the whole family might have starved had it not been for the small monthly contributions from Park." "Takes in washing doesn't she?" "I believe so — and waits for her pay — and whistles for it, maybe. Boys — excuse me, but this thing has got on my nerves! You see I owed Park two fiftv, myself. That is how I came to know. Reading about that divorce last week set me thinking about the cause of the "failure," and then I remem- bered about a little bill I owed the man for work. I went to Mrs. Adams and asked what the amount was. She handed me his ledger, remarking that she had not even looked inside of it since he left. She believed that if Park had not been able to collect, it was useless for her to try. I became interested as I turned the leaves of his book, and offered to see what could be done with the accounts. The woman gladly turned the whole thing over to me. Boys, there's over a thousand dollars' worth of unpaid, good, honest ivork recorded in that ledger and the man who did the work is an outcast from his family for Failure to Provide. Most of it is in small accounts like yours and mine; so there are several hundred of us who must have part in the responsibility of Park Adams' wretched existence — perhaps his untimely death!" "Why did he not tell us?" "Great Scott, man, would you have him go among his patrons like a beggar, pleading with them to settle accounts? Here is what one says in reply to a request for early settle- ment." The attorney drew from his pocket a letter and read: Dear Mr. Adams: We are using all our money this year for the stock- ing of our ranch. When we have done this and got things in good shape, we shall be glad to pay every cent we owe. Hoping this will not inconvenience you, etc., etc. "It would have been considerate to ask Mr. Adams to donate the price of a calf in that case," remarked Rob Larsen. What

FAILURE TO PROVIDE 805 right has one to stock his ranch with other people's money? It sounds like Jacob Budge." "Here is another," said Attorney Webb, and read: Dear Sir: I was going to pay you the $1.75 I owe you, but my wife wants a new bonnet, so you will have to wait till next month. The telephone rang, and Mr. Webb was called. Not a word was spoken by any one else in the room, while this con- versation went on: "Hello, yes, this is Webb." "At Fort Worth, Texas?" "Well, well! That is too bad. When did he die?" "Certainly. He would have thought it dreadful to become an object of charity, even when dead." "Yes, I think so. I believe now that he is dead we can wake up his debtors and collect enough to pay the hospital bill and funeral expenses." "Do you really want him brought home, Mrs. Adams?" "Well, there's a thousand dollars in his ledger. Of course, we can't hope to get half of it — and there's vou and the chil- dren—" "Very well. We'll do what we can. Goodbye."

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They formed a committee of business men there in the clubroom, to arrange for the transportation and funeral of the earthly remains of Park Adams, with the stipulation that not a penny of the expense should be donated, Mrs. Adams would have it so. Four days later when funeral services were held in one of the largest halls in the city, they covered his casket with flowers, and lauded his name to the skies — lauded to the skies the name of the man whom they had driven to his death in exile, by the system of credit they practiced and upheld. Who Wrote This Road Pean? — "Roads rule the world— not kings nor congresses, nor courts nor constables, not ships nor soldiers. The road is the only court that never sleeps, the only army that never quits, the first aid to the redemption of any nation, the exodus from stagnation in any society, the call from savagery in any tribe, the high priest of prosperity, after the order of Melchizedek, without beginnings of days or end of life. The road is um- pire in every war, and when the new map is made, it simply pushes on its great campaign to help, hope, brotherhood, efficiency and peace."' This praise of roads is being printed rather widely now, but nobody seems to know the author. Many inquiries as to who wrote it have been received by the American Highway Association, and if anybody knows he will confer a favor on many inquisitive roadbuilders by sending the information to the Washington office of that organization,