Centre Democrat. [volume] (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1848-1989, 1880-04-01


long as my money lasted, used TO go
out Mt nights In my waterproof and
buy things; but after you came / dared
Ing sick in the damp weather"
pour her out cup of strong tea,t that
is sleeping on the range, but she sits
holding it In her hand, untasted, staring
Mt me with her mild, faded eyes.
"Oh, Amy, am afraid to ask you,
but how Is my motherP-have you seen
herp"
"Yes, l saw her last week at prayer
meeting y" and she looks like one who
has been struck with death, was going
to say, but stopped, seeing Grace was
auivering all over with fear and expec-
fancy. | dared not tell her that her
mother was now sick in bed, and that
out of ner life all hope had gone, with
the loss of her only child, or how my
heart had ached for the poor widow, out
of whose faded face even expectancy had
"Come," said I, "the baby Is warm
now, let US go and lay il in the bed and
Charlie and are all alone, and you may
rest assured no one shall know of your
being here"
carry it to my own pink room as be-
ing the most retired, and it is with JOY
hear Charles step on the stairs. He
takes in the situation at a glance. and
being practical druggist, and better
nurse and doctor than our little town
affords, begins instantly to mix some
medicine for the little sufferer.
He is tenderer than any woman to-
ward anything little or weak, or needing
care; so for two days he does not 60 TO
his Office, but watches with Grace and
me beside the dying child; but what can
mustard-baths and drugs, and careful
nursing avail where a damp basement
has undermined tho constitution of so
frail little blossomp On the third day
the little life goes out to complete its
being in another world Posr Grace
win not believe that the little child she
has cherished through such awful days
and nights of want and distress Is really
dead. She holds it in her arms al
night. and in the morning we dress 1t in
the dainty lace and linen robe of hap
pier baby yet to come. who, too. alas
may never need the pretty finery. And
Charlie digs little grave under the pear
tree, close TO the sunny wall, where the
catchfiy and sweet allyssum grow SO
rank. and lays the little creature tend
erlv under the September caves an 4
grasses.
Poor thing. /: would have been SO
pretty, had il had proper nourishment,
and air TO breathe, with its delicate
features and pretty ri igs of soft hair.
Grace follows US silently back to the
door, and pausing on the step, laws her
hand upon my arm, looks into my face
beseechingly, saying:
81 must go 10 mother now, ii you will
do me one last favor, Amy. and 60 with
me-"
Charlie hurries off for downtown
car to his Office, and Grace and / walk
down the quiet street toward her
mothers little cottage. None OF the
people who meet US recognize in tho
slender figure clad in nv new drah
walking suit with my gypsy turban and
| long veil, the Grace Woolson of year
ago. ! tremble on nearing the house,
for / see the windows are open wide.
and two or three are watching by bed
where Grace's mother lies breathing
family and moaning at intervals. / see
Grace fly MP the gnrden-walk and stop.
with clasped hands and bent head on the
threshold. and hear her mothers faint
voice saying to the woman who Is fan
ming her:
Do not trouble yourself about me;
shall never be well again. and nothing
can cure me now but q sight Of my
daughters face"
see Grace grope forward. Ihear her
calling. Mother. motherw | see those
two poor women in each others arms,
and / turn away blinded with tears.
And Grace's mother did not die, but
seems entirely happy with her lost dar-
ling all to herself again once more, the
color coming slowly back into her
whitened cheeks, and life getting back
into its old grooves. Her return was a
nine days wonder to our gossiping
town; but the little grave under the
pear-trees tells no tales, and though she
will never be exactly the same pretty,
blooming Grace Woolson again, yet
this aftermath of her life Is something
TO be thankful for. in It's great content
and peacefulness.-BmnIa ~ Bdyley.