St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1885-12-17
THE CHILD KING.

brown OF n0r Clreu duu dIu-WOIhlH =
neighbor, Mrs. Peters. "You know
Association meets there, and husbands
got to go, so thought you would like
to drive over and see your Aunt Bet
seyy;nn, ,, . :. ,, bn+
Dell has got to go to picnic tOmOr-
row afternoon, and it'll take me the
whole of the morning to iron her white
dress. I've just got it washed and
hung out ; and then there's biscuit to
make, she wants 'em fresh. And"-
"Oh, mother !" The words came be-
fore the door flew open, and in bounc-
ed young girl of twelve, with the as
surance and pOise of forty, dressed in
a braided costume that implied a
weeks hard work from somebody, her
light hair banged on her low forehead
cheap rings and bracelets shining on
her fingers and arms, a gilt necklace
round her sallow throat, over a wide
frill of imitation lace, her whole air
pert, .tawdry and disagreeable. She
barely nodded to the minister's wife,
and went on in a loud voice, "Say
Lucille says I'd ought to have some
little pies and some cream-c cakes be-
sides the biscuit, so / run home to tell
you"
Poor Mrs. Peters face fell.
'T don't really see how | can, Dell.
It's quite piece of work to make them
cream cakes. [ can make some pie
crust and fix it up for the pies"
"Oh, but [ want the cream cakeS! Ii
YOU make 'em tonight the pies can
wait till morning"
"But, Dell, I've got to get the break
fast and wash the dishes and make the
beds and sweep, and then iron your
white dress, and you know there's
sights of work on it, and you want the
rutfies fluted, and"-
"Oh, can't you get up real early "
Mrs. Brown was indignant. A wise
proverb cautions us not to put a finger
between the bark and the tree, but she
did not remember it. "Why don't you
make the cake yourself, Della" she
said. "When | was your age L could
make cake. Can't you ?"
Della stared at her scOrnfully; Mrs.
Peters put in her word at once.
ooh, 1 haven't never asked it of her,
Mis- Brown. Dell's real delicate, and
she loves to go; children amt children
but once, and | want for her to have a
good time. I'll fetch it round some
; how, Dell, dear. You tell Aunt Bet
sey, won't you, Mis- Brown, how that
1 wanted to see her, but | really
couldn't get over. l thank you just
as much"
Mrs. Brown offered no further re-
marks. There was tone of aggriev-
ed motherhood in Mrs. Peters's voice
that warned her to keep silence she
said goodbye, and pursuing her walk
r up the street rung the bell at hand
some house standing in a well-kept
yard, that told its own story of wealth
within. She was admitted to the par
lor and warmly welcomed by Mrs. anG
Miss Vincent, a wife of middle age, and
her sister-iR-law.
But hardly had she begun to talk
with her friends when the door opened
: and in rushed four children of various
ages, who, after nOdding at the visitor
, or reluctantly shaking hands, at once
monopolized the conversation. In
vain did Mrs. and Miss Vincent strug-
gle to be heard.
go Mary was trying to tell Mrs
Brown
"Well, ma, I've got to go, 1 said
would, and"-
"Oh, yes You told Will Johns you'd
go, and you've got to Just like girl
Td'-
emily, dear, 1 want to ask Mrs
Brown
. "Well, Aunt Sue, must go if Mary
goes, and there's that picnic, and"-
| So it went on, Il perfect Babel, which
no present effort could silence, it had
been so long the habit in this house fol-
the elders to listen and the children tC
, speak.
J Mrs. Brown made only short call
she went but few steps further to the
house of desOlate woman, widow
who had lost her two children month
since with diphtheria. Mrs. Tenny
burst into tears as she came into the
room, and Mrs. Brown put her arms
about her tenderly.
"My poor friend J" was all she could
say;
recOnciled to it | miss them every
second. Hal used to come in so bright
from scheOl-his first year to go, you
know; and Susy was always at my
knee or in my lap, when she was
awake and in the lonesome nights ]
used to listen for their soft breathing,
and put out my hand to feel Susy's lit
tie tender face in the crib, and thank
left me-"
There was nothing to say to this; as
of old, the mother wept for her children
and refused to be comforted. Mrs.
Brown tried another course.
"They were not both taken at once %
she asked. And the mother ceased
weeping for the moment to answer her,
and with the pathetic garrulOusness of
grief entered into detail.
"NO. Hal came home from school
one day, so tired, and said his head
ached. And l tried to make him keep
still on the sofa, but he was restless,
and he would go out in the sunshine
to see the chickens it was hot day in
MAY, and | couldn't make him keep a
hat on pretty soon he sort of crawled
back into the kitchen and said his
'froat' was sore, and 'fings KEEP gOin'
round an round an rOund.' Then
sent for DR.. Smith, and he gave me
some medicine, and a brush, and told
me to put it on the inside of his throat
and rub some liniment on the outside.
But Hally wouldn't let me, and he
screamed and kicked SO he choked up
right away 1 couldn't do it, it hurt
him so, and he wouldn't let me if |
wanted to.
81 meant to send Susy away, but she
never would stay with anybody but
me, the little precious l never could
make her. SO she sickened next day,
and there couldn't be anything done
for her; there wasn't day between
them. And now-nOw-my house is
like grave all the time"
In the piteOus burst of sobbing that
! followed could Mrs. Brown speak the