The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1884-07-17

branches as She passed under them.
81 kin smell the apple blows" said
she, ..but somehow the goodness is all
gone out on 'em. I'd jest as sool smell
cabbage. o, dear me SUI, Kin ever
do them quilts over agin?"
When she got home, how ever, she
rallied a little. There was nervous
force about this old woman which was
not easily overcome even by an accu-
mutation of misfortunes. She might
bend a good deal, but she was almost
sure to spring back again. She took
off her hood and shawl, and straight
ened herself up. ''Thar's no use put
tin it off; it's got to be done. I'll heV
them quilts right eff it kills me!''
- She tied on q purple calico apron and
sat down at the window again, with a
quilt and the scissors. Out came the
pink roses. There she sat through the
long afternoon cutting the stitches
which she had so laboriOusly put ina
little, defiant old figure, its head, with
fiat black lace cap on it, bobbing up
and down in time with its hands. There
were some purple bows on the cap, and
they fiuttered; quite little wind blew
in at the window.
The eight-day clock on the mantel
licked peacefully. 1t was queer old
time-piece, which had belonged to her
grandmother Patch. A painting of a
quaint female with puffed hair and a
bunch of roses adorned the front of it
under the dial plate. 1t was fianked on
either side by tall green vases.
There was a dull-colored rag carpet
of Martha's own manufacture on the
floor of the room. Some wooden
chairs stood around stiiy; an old yell
low map of Massachusetts and
portrait of George Washington hung
on the walls. There was not a speck
of dust anywhere, nor any disorder.
Neatness was one of the chiefest COM
forts of Martha's life. Putting and
keeping things in order was one of
the interests which enlivened her dull
ness and made the world attractive to
her. .t
The poor soul sat at the window.
bending over the quilt, till dusk, and
she sat there bending over the quilt till
dusk many a day after.
1t is hard question to decide
whether there was any real merit in
such finely strained honesty, or whether
it was merely a case of morbid con-
scientiousness. Perhaps the old
woman, inheriting very likely her
fathers scruples, had had them so in
tensifed by age and chiidishness that
they had become little off the bias of
reason.
Be that as it may, she thought it was
the right course for her to make the
quilts over, and thinking so, it was all
that she could do. She could never
have been satisfied otherwise. 1t took
her a considerable time longer to finish
the quilts again, and this time she be-
gan to suffer from other causes than
mere fatigue. Her stock of provisions
commenced to run low, and her money
was gone. At last she had nothing but
a few potatoes in TIC house to eat.
She contrived to dig some dandelion
greens once or twice; these with the
potatoes were all her diet. There was
really no necessity for such a state of
things; she was surrounded by kindly,
well-to-do people, who would have
gone without themselves rather than
have let her suffer. But she bad al
ways been very reticent about her
needs, and felt great pride about ac-
cepting anything which she did not pay
for.
But she struggled along until the
quilts were done, and no one knew.
She. set the last stitch quite late one
evening; then she spread the quilts out
and surveyed them. Thar they are
now, all right" said she; ''the pink
roses is in Mis- Bennet's, an l amt
cheated nobody out on their caliker,
an I've Armed my money. I'll take
'em hum in the mornin', an then I'll
buy somethin' to eat. l begin to feel
a dreadful sinkin' at my stummuck."
She locked up the house carefully
she always felt great responsibility
when she had peoples work on hand
and went to bed.
Next morning she woke up so faint
and dizzy that she hardly knew herself.
She crawled out out into the kitchen,
and sank down on the floor. She
could not move another step.
''Lor sakesr" she moaned, 81 reckon
I'm bout done tor'
The quilts hay near her on the table;
she stared up at them with feeble COM
placency. '.Ef I'm goin' to die, I'm
glad got them quilts done right fust.
Massy, how sinkin' do feel! wish l
had cup of tea"
There she lay, and the beautiful
spring morning wore on. The sun
shone in at the window, and moved
nearer and nearer, till finally she lay
in sunbeam, poor, shrivelled, little
old woman, whose resolute spirit had
nearly been her death, in her scant
night gown and ruffied cap, little
shawl falling from her shoulders. She
did not feel ill, only absolutely too
weak and helpless to move. Her mind
was just as active as ever. and her
black eyes peered sharply out of her
pinched face. She kept making efforts
to rise, but she could not stir.
''Lor sakesr' she snapped out at
length, chow long heU got to lay
here! I'm mad.
She saw some dust on the black
paint of a chair which stood in the sun
and she eyed that distressfully.
"Jest look at that dust on the runs
of that cheer!m she muttered. What
if anybody come in! 1 wonder if l
can't reach it,
The chair was near her, and she
to stretch out her limp old
hand and rub the dust off the rounds.
The she let it sink down, painting.
81 wonder eff 1 amt goin' to die,"
she gasped. Il wonder eff I'm pre-
pared. l never took nothin' that
shouldn't belong to me that knows
on. Oh, dear me SUI, wish somebody
would comet