The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1883-03-17

IAdt was the end OF 1t.
Inc old orchard with it's fragrant
ounce bushes, its gnarled apple trees.
It's tour-leaved clovers, was a thing of
the past; cotton-miIl Numbered there
all day long, where the birds built. and
the trees bourgeoned thirty odd years
ago. 1t no longer blossomed EXCEPT in
MISS Becky's memory. She had turned
her thoughts to raising plants, when she
vas lett to her own resources. but one
cruel winters night killed all her slips
ana the capital was lacking by which she
might renew her stock. Since then she
had gone out for daily sewing, had
watched with the sick, had been in tenn
porary demand whenever a tired
nouse-keeper matron wished an
outing; but latterly, her ewes no
longer served her for fine work
and sewing machines had been in
tIoduced; she was not so alert in the
SICK room as of yore; she moved more
slowly, and her housekeeping talent was
no longer IN request; added to this the
oank where her little earnings had been
growing, one day failed, and left her
nigh and dry. Some of her friends had
travelled to pastures new, some married
away, some had ignored or forgotten her.
AS for Larry Rogers, he had been away
from Plymouth this many wear.
Somebody had sent him abroad the wear
after Lucy Amory's marriage to develop
his musical genius. He had grown into
a famous ylollnist, playing all over the
country to crowded houses, before the
finest people in the land. 1t was a
beautiful romance to Miss Becky to read
III the Record about "our gifted towns
man; she seemed to hear the echo of
bis violin when the wind swept through
| the pine boughs. She had no bitter
| thoughts; she did not blame him be-
cause she sat III shadow, because her life
had been colorless. She sang again the
old tunes he had taught her, and made
little sunshine in her heart. All of
happiness she had ever known he had
brought her. Why should she complain
And now she was going to the "Old
Ladies Home"
|" 1t isn't exactly what I expected in
my youth, she said to the old doctor s
widow.
"No; but you will have nice room
and bright fire, and the neighbors will
drop IN to zee you, and make it seem
homelike. Now. there's old Mrs. Gum.
Nothing can persuade her to 60 to the
Home. She says it's only a genteel
aims house after all; and so she RIBS
along with what the neighbors have a
mlnd to send in; and they have to DO it
nightly glngerly, too, just as if they
were asking lavor of her. LOr, she
doesn't earn her salt.
dare say" returned Miss Becky.
Nov, if II hadn't been for the rheuma
tlsm, L could earn nay living for years
yet, and may be get something ahead
again. But 1T seems as if the rheuma-
tlsm laid in wait fer the poor and friend
less. )"
You ought to have married when you
were young, Becky" said the doctors
widow, who had forgotten all about
Becky'a love affair, and laboTed under
the impression that she had never had
chance, au impression that matrons are
apt to entertain concerning their single
friends. Miss Becky had been spending
some weeks with Mrs. Doctor Dwight,
who had moved away from Plymouth
after her husband death. She was there
chiefly in order to put some stitches into
the widows wardrobe, which nobody
CloC WODll w ItdSbutD11. tIldl ldJN \
grief having incapacitated her for hold
ing needle or giving her mind to the
material details of seam and gusset and
band. But during the visit Miss
Becky had been seized with her sharpest
attack of rheumatism, which had kept
her In bed for weeks, till her wages were
exhausted by drugsand doctot's fees. 1t
was at this time that she made up her
mind to 60 into the Home on her return
to Plymouth
Mrs. Dwight saw her off at the station.
:" l hope you'll find the Home cosy" she
said outside The car window. "Its
lucky Parson Amory left you that hun
dred dollars after all. He might have
doubled it.
Yes, I suppose so" Miss Becky
answered meekly. Perhaps she was
tbiDkiDg that if she were Mrs. Dwight
no cid friend Of hers should go begging
for refuge at an almshouse door, were
it ever so genteel an almshouse. Perhaps
she was thinking of the pretty, comfort
able home waiting for her friends, and
wondering why their fortunes were so
unlike.
"Write when you reach Plymouth,
and let me know how you're suited, " said
Mrs. Dwight; and Just then the cars
gave q lurch and left her behind, and
Miss Becky turned her glance inwards.
Somebody had taken the seat beside her.
" Your friend was speaking of Parson
Amory and Plymouth" said he. q
couldn't help hearing. ] was born IL
Plymouth myself, but | haven't met
soul from there these twentyye ans. I'm
70 laaly ~
friends.
"Twenty years is a long time" an
swered Becky. "1'm afraid you WON'T
find many OF your friends left. You'll
hardly know Plymouth"
"Isuppose noS-Isuppose not. Have
you lived there long ?"
81? l have lived there all my days.
Good I'm hungry for news of the
people. Tell everything you can think
Of. Did Parson Amory leave a fortune
He WIS called close. Where's Miss
Nell, married or dead? [ can see the
old place in my minds eye; and the par
sonage under the elms, and the orchard
behind it, where Lucy Amory planted
young tree on her wedding day, and the
gown little Becky Thorne wore-by tue
way, Is she alive? Do you know her ?"
Miss Becky hesitated an instant.
yes she replied. 81 know her,
more or less. She's alive"
And married ?"
Well, no, she never married"
"She must be sixty odd; she was
pretty creature, such dimples-I sup
pose they are wrinkles now Where
have the years gone? Is her home in the
old place still?'
"Her home ?" said Miss Becky, flush.
ing little. "She has none. She is ON
her way to the Old Ladies' Home"
To the Old Ladies Home Becky
Thorne % he gasped, "and /"
You seem to have known her pretty
well, said Miss Becky, who was b ogin-
ming to enjoy the incognito.
- should think so! I've loved
Becky Thorne from my cradle; we had
a silly quarrel which parted us-such a
trihe-when [ look back. Do you ever
look back, madame ?"