McCook weekly tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 188?-1886, 1885-05-21
SHOWED IN.
Ada Carleton Stoddard in Harper's Young Peo-

tHdu bWcHIJ years ago, tIieEe WAS III un
usual commotion about certain little
old house standing far up on the ST
John River.
Within, Mrs. Grace sat before the
great fireplace in the forenoon, so bun
died up in shawls and blankets and
hoods that she could scarcely stir In
a warm corner of the hearth lay three
or four hot bricks well wrapped in
newspapers, and two homemade robes
were hanging across chair to warm
everything indicating prepare
.tions for long journey. With
out, Mr.. Grace was hitching the
old red mare into the thills of the still
older red pung, that looked as if it might
have come over in the Mayfower. His
round, good-natured face wore a
troubled expression, and he jerked at
old Dolly's bit once or twice in an I'M
gentle way which wasn't like himself.
The small part of Mrs. Grace's face
that was visible among the folds of
her home-knit hood showed the same
look Of anxiety, and her voice trem-
bled good deal when she spoke
to the children, and gave Charly
her last directions. There were four
of the children-Dean and EN-
my, and Joe and Charly-though Char
~ was not one of the Grace children
Mrs. Grace had taken her, wee
lame mite, when there was no one
else to take her, and she often de-
clared she couldn't and didn't love one
of her own little ones better than she
could and did love Charly. Emma
and Dean and Joe were round, rosy
little ladies, of and and years,
blue-eyed and yellow-haired. Charly
was IL, and she was neither round
nor rosy. Her face was thin, and her
eyes were big and shadowy. And
Charly was lame; there was pair of
tiny crutches always by her chair.
81 couldn't think of going" said
Mrs. Grace, eff Charly wasn't the
wise, patient little mother [ know she
is. I never was so worried in my
life. But what am I to do?"
It was hard question to answer, in
deed, for the night before had come q
letter to Mrs. Grace from her sister in
distant town saying that her mother
the children's dear old grandmamma-
was very, very Ill "Come at once"
the letter read; and it was week old
when Mr.. Ringgold, who lived too
miles above them, but was yet their
nearest neighbor in the sparsely settled
region, brought it from the postofice
five miles below. It was little to be
wondered at that the tears filed poor
Mrs. Grace's eyes, that her lips CULVER
ed, and her voice shook.
II couldn't do it if it was not for
trusting in Charly So" she repeated
time and again, in tones that brought
glow to Charly's thin little face. II
know you'll take good care of them,
dear. There's bread enough baked,
and I've left the jar of doughnuts in the
closet"
''Oh, good again." cried Joe. "Can't
We have all we want? Won't it be fun,
Charly? ?"
sEYou must have what Charly gives
you, said Mrs. Grace, ''and attend to
what Charly says. I've locked the
pantry door so you can't bother her by
running in and out. Now" She looked
at Charly as the outer door opened.
I'll do just the best [ can" said
Charly, bravely.
81 know you will dear. Be good
children, all of you
''There's wood enough piled up in
the entry to last you said Mr.. Grace,
a little huskily. eve shall be back
day after tomorrow night, sure. All
ready, wife" And a few moments
later old Dolly was jogging at her best
pace down the snowy level of the river.
1t was thirty long miles to Dunbar
Corner.
Il wish they were home again." said
Joe.
'.They will be before you know it."
laughed Charly. ''Now I'll tell you
story"
So the three little ones cuddled
around Charly's chair before the open
fire while she told them the wonderful
tale of the "Three Tiny Pigs, and from
first to last they listened breathlessly,
though they had heard the same story
many times before, no doubt. Charly
had wonderful gift for telling stories,
Mrs. Grace often declared.
And Charly had gift for something
besides story tilling. When her stories
came to an end she smiled.
Bring me my box, will you, Toev,
please 2" Charly asked. Her poor
little limbs were so weak and misshapen
that it was with difficulty she could
move about, even with the aid of her
crutches.
Joe obeyed, climbing up on the wide
four-posted bed in the corner, and tax
ing from shelf above it square wood
en- box with sliding cover. Dean and
Emmy knew what was coming then.
"Dive me the kitty" pleaded Emmy.
"And me the mouses," said Dean.
They're deers, goosey, said Joe, with
a little scornful sniff. "Let me see all
of 'em. won't you, Charly?"
~, - tba briuhaSt way