Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1879-07-01
THE WATCHER.

tire Of sending delegates to sit up with
the sick brother, then comes the watcher
and blights the house. I've been ex-
pectin' that you'd send for me- she
begins, as she takes off her wrinkled,
skinny-looking shawl, and adjusts her
spectacleS. Il was up TO Mis-. Meserve $
night before last, settin' with her Glenn
entinv. an from what they said it seemed
to me as if YOU would need somebody
before long unless something happened.
How is he now-pretty sick' Lor, I've
known EN- TO linger along, and hnger
along for weeks, until it seemed as If
every soul in the house was ready TO drop
right down, and still they wouldn't get
any worse, either. Now there was Amar-
ittv Merrill, she that was knight, YOU
know. she laid for weeks, hardly moving,
as YOU might say, and they a-settin' up,
an a-settin' up, until at last Belinda, she
went to bed one night and left me to
watch, an Amaritty died before one
o'clock. The very first night, YOU see.
BY the time she has reached this stage
of Renaissance she has arrived in the
sickroOm, and is in a position to make
herself agreeable to her charge. SHOW
do YOU do" she asks with exquisite pro-
priety. Feeling pretty well today: Do
YOU know me; Do you know me-; she
repeats, and receiving no answer from the
patient, who is Ike most sick men, intol-
Grant of bore, she says in whisper
that would penetrate wall of brass,
Poor thing. His mind has gone Well,
hen suffer less, that's one comfort. It's
all for the best. Where do YOU keep
Your night-lamp; always think they're
more comfortable after they don't know
anything. He'd be glad to see me if he
could speak The sick man kicks a
feeble protest at this, and Is in cOnse-
quence readjuSted in a painstaking way
that nearly dislocates all his bones, the
watcher murmuring as she pulls him
about, Poor thing. he's uncomfortable
You did your best for him, of course, but
then there nothing ike experience. Dr.
BaSSett told me the other day about
poor fellow that he had been tending in
the last stages Of consumption, and his
folks didn't know enough to turn him
over when he moved in that restless way,
bu, after went to sit up with him he
was turned enough, tell YOU. Every
time he moved | turned him over, and
made him comfortable He died in
couple of DAYS. Do YOU have to give him
medicine oftens Don't make much diff
ference now, l suppose. often tell DR..
BaSSett that, except its to keep EN- from
being in pain, there don't seem much
sense in giving EN- medicine after they
begin TO 90 It's only an expense TO the
family. Now YOU 20 right away. l
know Just what TO do, and YOU have
oodsleep; you'llneeditwith allyou' We got
70 20 through before its all over" And
with this she releases one victim and turns
her whole attention TO the other.
The watcher, to do her justice. means
well She honestly wishes to save her
friends from oyerwork, but from long IA
miharity with the sickroom she has be-
come hardened TO the minor details of
suffering, and has grown accustomed 10
phrases that crate on the unused ear
with dreadful harshneSs. Remonstrance
only confirms her in her habits. "Why
shouldn't tell them that PhGbe can't
live she cries. 1T won't make her
die any sooner, and somebody ought 10
prepare them. There were the AinslieS,
who knew that their grandfather must
die for weeks and weeks, and there they
sat Just a-watching him, as YOU might
say, and not a stitch of mourning made
| couldn't stand II, and at last ! put il
plain 10 Mis- AinSlic, and saws |, you've
got il TO do, and YOU might as well be
sewing as doing nothing" but YOU never
could make Maria Ainslee be sensible,
and when the funeral came. there was a
great hurry and drive 10 do the sewing,
as if she hadn't had time enough, if she
had only used it,"
"Why shouldn't I let Fred SEE that
they think he can't live: Like as not
there's something he wants 10 say. and
he wont die any sooner for my talking.
Why shouldn't | tell him about other
sick men that I've seen: He ought to
sympathize with EN- and pity EN-. Why
shouldn' ask Mrs. Page if that was
her first husband that she asked me to
SC, up with; ! wanted TO know, and
she needn't have been so cross about it,
either, She wouldn't be the first woman
that had married twice, if he had been
her second. Why shouldn't l tell Mrs.
Gray that il was lucky her baby died, as
long as it was so weak: Goodness knows
she never would have been the one 10
take care of it a dozen years without get
ting sick. Some people are silly senti-
mental.
The watchers eyes are as sharp as her
tongue and she counts it no sin to inform
herself thoroughly with regard to the
internal economy of every household to
which she Is admitted, not necessarily for
publication, but as a guarantee of good
faith. She is not much given to bearing
gossip from one house TO another, but
she viii occasionally. She viii inquire,
What have YOU done with the carpet
that YOU had in the front chamber when
Mary Ann died." and Whats become
of the books that used TO be in the case
in Henry's room when he had the typhoid
fever. the year before Lucinda was down