Weekly Chillicothe crisis. (Chillicothe, Livingston Co., Mo.) 1878-19??, 1883-10-11
DORA.

IL was q dull, dark day, and n short
~ouc. Tho SIM went down bChiul Tie
hills carly, leaving little cottage,
where IN old woman sat knitting, even
moro dismal and dark lhan II had been
before. IL was not much better than
u hut, with two OF three rooms, and
was wrotchedIy old and worn out; aud
the old woman whD lived in il va,
quito as forIorn. Sho was u ben ,
"i'hrred, wrinklad dame, too m.v
and nisorly to keep herself comfui.-
able. She had money but It was hiidu
away in old stockings, and they were
hidden in out.uC.thc-way places, in
crovcoS and crann;cs, under old broken
bowls, or between the layers of her old
riakcty bed
The house was tumblin@ down for
want of repair; their was not Il chpir
nor II table in il that did not want Il
leg; the shelf for dishes had not cup
that was not cracked nora plate without,
\ nip out of it. Tho pitchers all had
broken noses, the pals had no han
dies, the teapot was without spout,
and tho iron kettles were rusty and
leaky. But this did not matter, for no
one ever shared the old dams cru5ts,
anl even brggar5 thought tho place
too ill-lOoking to stop there and ask
aims. The noighb0rS, and none were
worry near, never crossed her threshold,
the only live thing in the hut besides
horsclf was the cat. Had it not been
tor tho many mice aud an occasional
squirrel, even the cat could not have
lived there, for sho was never fed by
the old woman, whose own food was Of
the plainnSt, COarSGSt kind. Once Il
week, she hobblcd into the town for n
little tea, u bit Of meat, aud Il small
pail of iionr. Upon this very same
dark, dismal day, she had bought her
supplies, and had come home very
weary, 50 sho put n stick on tho fire,
hung the kettle over it, and took up m
unfinished stocking TO knit till tine
water shoUld boil.
Blackor and blackor grow tho sky,
and the rising wind made the old shut
tUrs Crcak and the old boards trcmble.
Dry leaves whirled in the mir, but they
were the only moving things ON tho
road.
Click, click, wont tho old danes
needles, for she was used to knitting in
the dark, and would not have lighted a
candle for the world; such u useless
expense aS that; no, indccdl
The cat yawned and stretched her
self by the scanty blaze on the hearth,
then drew up and sat in digniIicd ST.
lcncc. She seemed to be listening.
There certainly was u sound not
made by thc wind! 1t was not unlike
the sobbng Of Il child 1t came nearer.
then stopped, and Il liltlo knock was
heard on the door.
The dame thought she must have
bc9n dreaming; no one ever knocked
at that door, so sho went on knit.
ing-clickety click, clckcty click.
Tho cat opened her eyes wider and
gayo little flourish of her tail.
Knock, knock! There it was again
So the damc shutfled over to tho door,
and, pokiug out her head, cried:
"Wko's there?"
"Mo ma'am," said tiny voice.
"And what do you want?"
I'm so hungry"
"rhis is no place to come for food; !
havn't enough for myself"
but | am very tired"
80 am l." And with that tho old
woman banged tho door and came
back to the fire.
The sobbing began again, and the
wind muttered and growled in the
chimney and moaned about tho caves.
The cats eyes grew greener, and her
tai! lashed about. She drew herself UP
even more than before; and then, to The
DANES utter surprise, the cat SAID:
"You have made great mistake y
GLOW sop returned the dame drop
ping the knitting, ard peering over hel
glasses, as if IT was their fault she haC
not heard Alright
You have turned away peace ant
plenty from your door," said tho cat,
very grandly.
"Pooh, pooh," said tho old woman
II tell you again, you will rue it,
said tho cat.
care you sure" asked the dame, i'm
pressed by the cats diguilied and posi-.
tive manner.
"Quite sure" said tho cat; "she
would have brought you gold"
That magic word made tho dame
start.
"Who could have brought me gold"
she asked.
"The child"
"Who is she?'
"No matter" said the cat.
ais it too late to call her backP" in,
quired tho old woman anxiously, and
shuilling again toward the door.
TRY" said the cat.
The dame opened the door, but the
night was too dark to see anything. In
spite of her deafness, however, she
thought she heard cry. She groped
her way in its direction, and there
crouching under a corner of the rickety
old fence, was the scli'Same child.