The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1880-03-04

buy things; but after you came dared
not leave, and the baby has been grow
ing sick in the damp weather"
l pour her out a cup of strong tea, that
is STEPPING on the range, but she sits
holding it in her hand, untasted, staring
at me with her mild, faded eyes.
"Oh, Amy, am afraid to ask you,
but how is my motherP-have you seen
herpn
eyes, I 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
quivering all over with fear and expec-
fancy. I dared not tell her that her
mother was now sick in bed, and that
out of her 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
vanished.
Come" said l, "t the baby is warm
now, let us go and lay it 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 l
hear Charles step on the stairs. He
takes in the situation at a glance, and,
being a 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 go to
his Office, but watches with Grace and
me beside the dying child; but what can
musttard-baths and drugs, and careful
nursing avail where damp basement
has undermined tue constitution of so
frail a little blossom? On the third day
the little life goes out to complete its
will 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 all
night, and in the morning we dress it 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 peal
tree, close to the sunny wall, where the
catchfly and sweet allyssum grow SC
rank, and lays the little creature tend
erlv under the September leaves and
grasses.
Poor thing, it would have been sc
pretty, had it had proper nourishment
and air to breathe, with its delicate
features and pretty rings of soft hair.
Grace follows us silently back to the
door, and pausing on the step, laws hel
hand upon my arm, looks into my face
beseechingly, saying:
81 must 60 to mother now, if you viii
do me one last favor, Amy, and go witt
me-"
Charlie hurries off for a downtown
car to his office, and Grace and | wall
down the quiet street toward hel
mothers little cottage. None of the
people who meet us recognize in tht
slender figure, clad in my new dral
walking suit with my gypsy turban ant
long veil, the Grace Woolson of a yeal
ago. tremble on nearing the house
for | see the windows are open wide
and two or three are watching by a bee
where Grace's mother lies breathin!
family and moaning at intervals. | Sc,
Grace fly up the garden-walk and stop
with clasped hands and bent head on tn,
threshold, and / hear her mothers fain
voice saying to the woman who is fan
ming her:
"Do not trouble yourself about me;
shall never be well again, and nothin,
can cure me now but a sight of m.
daughters face
see Grace grope forward. l hear he
calling, Mother, motherm see thos
two poor women in each others arms
and turn away blinded with tears.
And Grace's mother did not die, bu
seems entirely happy with her lost dar
ling all to herself again once more, til
DIOR coming slowly back into he
whitened cheeks, and life getting bac
into its old grooves. Her return was
nine days wonder to our gossipin
town; but the little grave under tn
pear-trees tells no tales, and though sh
will never be exactly the same pretty
blooming Grace Woolson again, yt
this aftermath of her life is somethin
; to be thankful for, in its great conter
and peacefulness.-Emnaa N. Bayley.