The Penn's Grove record., 1885-03-28

J love YOU all already"
"What-aunt Margaret still with her
bonnet OnP" broke in papa's hearty
voice. What are you thinking Of,
girls?"
There was a hurried move, and in a
little while we were all heartily discus
sing our "high tea" 1t was impossible
to feel shy with aunt Margaret. At the
end of half an hour we felt as though
we had known her all our lives. Sitting
on a low chair, after tea, by mamma,s
sofa, in her long black dress n wild
owls cap, with soft white lace at her
neck aad wrists, she made the prettiest
picture of an old lady that L had ever
seen. Her manners, too, were so WIN
ming and graceful that we really forgot
all our troubles in looking at her and
listening to her delightful conversation.
The evening passed away quickly and
pleasantly. and. on bidding us good
night. aunt Margaret declared that 1t
was the first happy evening she a
spent since her husband died.
After she had left us, we were all
loud in her praise.
''Such a delightful old dearI' ex-
claimed Noble. Fancy your calling
her the last strawl'"
Il must tell her that some day, L
said laughingly. But can you ever
imagine those other people being SO nor
rid2 One look into auntie's sweet sad
eyes won my heart"
And mine too" put in mamma. Il
am sure she will be a great help and
comfort to Us all. She has known much
sorrow, and it has taught her to be ten
der and pitiful to others. | am very
glad she has come to US"
The next morning there were three
breakfasts to be taken up stairs, for l
had told aunt Margaret that we break
tasted at an unearthly hour, and she
was on no account to get up. L did not
want her to see that our meal consisted
| of coffee and bread and butter alone,
for of course she must have her outlet
or poached egg, took up her tray my
self, and was amply repaid for my trou-
Bile by her bright look of thanks,
"This must not happen again, DEAR"
| she said. II am not usually lazy; but
this morning [ must confess to feeling
a little tired and stiff. How are poor
mamma and Ethelp"
| said that neither had had a very
good night.
Poor thingsl am so sorry-and 1
slept so WE'LL What is the matter with
Ethel .dearG''
told her all I knew about it, and
that | was afraid she would not get
stronger till her mind was more easy.
''She worries so about being idle when
we 7 all so hard up.'"I explained,
s'and she grudges herself every mouth
full of wine or extra dainty, because she
thinks VT deprive ourselves of necessa-
RES in oriar to get them for her. Poor
mamma is Just the same, Oh, il is a
dreadful thing to be poor, is it not?'' L
ended bitterly. She was poor too, so |
felt no shame in speaking of Cur pol-
I arsy-befare her.
poor childI" she said softly. SIS it
so bad as all this? l had no idea you
were really poor; it IS a word with such
an elastic meaning
81 suppose ours is what would be
called genteel poverty | remarked,
still bitterly. Dad has been a long
time out of employment, and we have
never been able to save. 1t has been
uphill work all our lives; but we have
never been so badly off as now"
"And yet without hesitation you
added another to your many burdensl
NY child, what am 1 to say to your"
The blood rushed to my cheeks. [ felt
overwhelmed with shame when |
thought of what she might have in
/ ferred from my needless complaints.
"Oh, aunt Margaret, what must you
think of me? You know we are all de
lighted to have you. You could not be
a burden to us. Indeed we feel that
YOU will be our greatest help and COM
fort-mamma said so. and it IS cutie,
quite truel"
Dear child, I did not misunderstood
YOU. Your welcome last night was too
genuine to be doubted but, all the
/ same, you have done what few would
! DO without hopes of reward; and may
Heaven grant that your recompense
NAV be tenfoldI"
''IYe have done nothing, aunt Mar
gareU," | said lightly, for there were
tears IN her voice.
You have done moret than you know,
my child" and she smiled slightly.
esYou have healed a wounded heart and
restored my faith in human nature"
When | went afterwards TO remove
the tray and wish her good morning be-
fore starting on the ''tread-mill, !" as
Molle called 1t, she laid three pounds
in my hand.
"You know, dear, | told you | could
paw for my maintenance. / will give
YOU this sum every Saturday"
"But, aunt Margaret, | gasped, in
- GgEE 80 n arrAnk 1nn1 BOO
much. I've thought you might per-
haps give us ten shillngs a week."
You understood that | was very
poor t0o-eh, Esther Who told you
sop
81 really don't know. We ali thought
SO from your letter. | fancy"
''And yet, like good Samaritans, you
took pity on the friendless traveller.
Well. dear, l am not so poor but that /
can afford to pay you a fair sum In re-
turn for the trouble / cause"
With a light heart | rushed down
stairs and showed the glittering coins to
| Mollie, who, after a short stare Of in
eredulity. executed a war-dance round
the kitchen, with a tea-cup in one hand
and a cloth In the other.
When.I came home there were other
\ surprises in store for me. A hamper of
old port and a basket of game had ar
rived in the afternoon for the use of the
inyalids.
1.-The fairies have come back to this
prosaic world of ours laughed Ethel,
as | opened my eyes at sight of the I'M
accustomed luxuries.
Zone fairy has, I think y said mann
ma; and | put my arms round aunt
| Margaret's neck aud kissed her.
II have some good news too" l re-
marked by-and.by. 81 broke up to-
day for three weeks holiday.n
Every one was pleased, Mollie gave
me her usual hug aud half strangled me.
"Oh, sha'n't we have fung | do hope
it will freeze, and we will skate All day
long"
"You dissipated young womanl And
who is to take care of the house, |
| should like to know. and wait on poor
mammaY"
s.Ah hat Is my sacrafi,, aid MoIlta