The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1881-11-10
A STRANGE STORY.

perhaps, but she had by no means out
lived her self-respect, or her desire to be
a factor however unimportant, in the
worlds wide field of product.
So when her boys-there had been
two, and they had become men and had
taken to themselves wives-emigrated to
far Southwest, and the girls-they were
women now-wondered how they were
10 crowd any more than they were crowd
ing, in order to spare a room for mother,
who had Just been burned out of house
and home, and had come first to Julia
and then to Jessie, to see if she couldn't
find q home with either-when these
came to pass" the old lady, who had
never before realized how old she was,
began to feel aged, and weary, and very
lonely, vet as never before determined to
make for herself a place in the world,
where by her own efforts she could live
and maintain herself.
1t had had grieved her te see her home
with all its homely treasures, flame up
and flare and fade into ashes before her
eyes, as she stood alone and helpless on
that fatal night. But she consoled her
bereaved heart, saying, "After all. the
care of these things. my house, and gar
den, and cow, and chickens, prevented
me from doing much for the girls; now
there is all enc. 1 will sell the COW and
fowls, and replace my lost clothing, and
20 to Jessie and Julia. l car live by
turns with them and help them on in
many ways"
Poor heart. She had been a good
mother, and had done a good part by
her children. The thought that she
could be anything else than a help to
those whom she had always helped, ali,
with what loving, unseltish helpfulness
never occurred to her. Yet as she stood
homeless and destitute. in her daugh-
ter's house that bright October morning,
and heard Julia's husband remark that
there wasn't enough room in the house
for those rightfully belonging in it,
grandma had better go up to Jessie's,"
the pool mother felt q strange, unnatural
tremor shake her frame. The road be-
tween Julia's and Jessie's seemed twice
as long as ever before.
did you save nothing, mother?' Jes-
sic asked. "And how much insurance
had you? To think, we never heard a
word of it till ten minutes ago. julie sent
up to say she saw you coming over the
hill, and as they had no room for you I'd
have to manage somehow. l couldn't
make out what it meant, till the young
one said you'd been burned out. How
soon do you suppose the insurance will
rebuild for you? We can crow dup for a
few weeks by letting Andrew give you his
cot. He can sleep in the dining room.
Of course you'll have to be in the room
With little Jim and Isabella. Did you save
all your things?"
How weak she grew as she sat and list
ened to her daughters half-peevish ques-
tions. She scarcely knew her W voice
a. she answered:
"The insurance expired last week. l
neglected to renew it. The fire broke out
at four this morning, and everything was
gone before the neighbors heard my
cries. l saved nothing but my clothes
and my tin box with my papers, and
watch, and a few trinkets in it. There
we're five dollars in the box. 1t is all the
money I have now. The lot, the COW, and
the chickens are all that is left to me-"
why mother, interrupted the daugh-
ter. vexedly, "howcould you be so neglect
full? You must be in our second child
hood. All your nice bedding and furni-
ture and the china! Dear me! There
must have been at least a thousand dol
lars worth of property destroyed"
"And / am homeless and destitute,
indeed, said her mother quietly, in a
very sad voice.
''And all through your own culpable
carelessness, I declare" said Jessie.
'And what in the world you are 60
ing to l don't know, I'm sure. We're
crowded enough, mercy knows. And I
was Just thinking of sending little Jim
up to you for a month. The air is so
much purer over where you lived, the
other side of the hill. and he is SO
cross and troublesome. Dear me! And
to think of there being no insurance.
You might as we'll have thrown your
home away, and things, and be done
with it,"
Not a word of sympathy or Of en-
couragement from Julia. Reproaches
from Jessie.
We're these the babies whom she had
borne, and nursed. and fondled, and
served SO willingly, so patiently, so
gladly? Were these the daughters for
whom she had toiled, and s~triven, and
planned? Was it not all a hideous
dream?
Her blood seemed turning to ice in
her veins. She rose with rigid limbs
and turned to the door.
81 will walk over to tell your Uncle
Dick" she said. 81 NAV not return