The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1885-03-14


She had to carry in the squashes one at
a time. She was little woman, and al
though she had been used to hard work all
her life, it had not been of a kind to
strengthen her muscles: she had been a
dressmaker. SO she stepped patiently into
her kitchen with squash, and out without
one; then in again with one. She piled
them up in heap on the floor in a corner
They'll hev to 90 up on that shelf over
the mantel," said she, 'to-morrOw. | can't
git 'em up thar tonight am go to meetin'
nohow."
She had double shelf of implanted pine
rigG-+3 over the ordinary one for her
squashes.
After the squashes were all in, Ann took
off her shawl and hung it ON a nail behind
the kitchen door. Then she set her bowl
of smoking hot tomato stew on little table
between the windows, and sat down con-
tentedly.
There was a white cloth on the table, and
some bread and butter and pie beside the
stew. Ann looked at it solemnly. ''I'd
orter be Thankful" said she. That was her
way of saying grace. Then she fell to eat
ing with a relish. This solemn, spiritual
looking old woman loved her food, and had
keen lookout for it. Perhaps she got a
spiritual enjoyment out of it, too, besides
the lower material one. Perhaps hot
stewed tomatoes, made savory with but
ter and pepper and salt, on a frosty No
vember night had for her subtle flavor of
home comfort and shelter and cozness, APP
pealing to her Imagination, besides the COM
moner one appealing to her palate.
Before anything else, though - before
seating herself-she had given her cat his
saucer of warm milk in snug corner by
the stove. He was a beautiful little ami
NAL, with a handsome dark striped coat on
his back and white paws and face.
When he had finished tapping his milk.
he cene and stood beside his mistress
chair while she ate and purred-he rarely
mewed-and she gave him bits of bread
from her plate now and then. She talked
to him, too. 'Nice Willy" said she, mice
cat. Got up on the window tie see me
bring in the squashes, didn't he? There's a
beautiful lot of 'em, an he shall hev some
stewed for his dinner tomorrow, so he
shall"
And the cat would purr, and rub his soft
coat against her, and look as if he knew
just what SHE meant.
There was prayer-meeting in the church
veStry that evening, and Ann Millet went.
She never missed one. The minister, when
he entered, always found her sitting there
at the head of the third seat from the
front in the right-hand row-always in the
same place, meek, erect little figure, III a
poor tidy black bonnet and an obsolete
black coat with no seam in the whole of the
vOluminOuS back That had been the STYLE
of outside garments when Miss Millet had
laid aside dressmaking, and she had never
gone step further in fashions. She had
stopped just where she was, and treated
her old patterns as conservatively as she
did her Bible.
She had had pretty voice, people said,
when she was young, and she sang now in
a thin, sweet quaver, the hymns which the
minister gave out. She listened in solemn
enjoyment to the stereotyped prayers and
Tho, n1~.,r. 1
middle-aged preacher, in dull, country
town.
After meeting, Ann went up and told
him how much she had enjoyed his remarks,
and inquired after his wife and children
She always did. To her a minister was an
unpublished apostle, and his wife and
family set apart on the earth. No matter
how dull a parson labored here, he would
always have one disciple in this old
woman.
When Ann had walked home through the
frosty starlight she lit her lamp first, and
then she called her cat. She had expected
to find him waiting to be let in, but he was
not. She stood out on her little piazza,
which ran along the rear corner of her
house by her kitchen door, and called
''Willy. Willy! Willy"
She thought every minute she would see
him come bounding around the corner, but
she did not. She called over and over and
over, in her shrill, anxious pipe: "Willv .
Willy. Willy! Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!''
Finally she went into the house and
waited awhile, crouching, shivering with
cold and nervousness, over the kitchen
stove. Then she went outside and cSlled
again: "Willy. Willy! Willvw over and
over, waiting between the calls, trembling,
her dull old ears alert, her dim old eyes
strained. She ran out to the road, and
looked and called and down to the dreary
,tS,l, 1,,,ts 81 Al
withered corn stalks and the Wondering
squash vines all white with frost. Once
her heart leaped: she thought she saw
Willy coming; but it was only a black cat
which belonged to one of the neighbors.
Then she went into the house and waited a
little while; then out again, calling shrilly:
"Willy. Willy! Willy"
There were northern LIGHTS streaking the
sky: the stars shone steadily through the
rosy glow it was very still and lonesome
and cold The little thin snivering old wo-
man standing outdoors. all alone in the
rude, chilly night air, under these splendid
stars and streaming lights, called over and
over and over the poor liotle creature which
was everything earthly she had to keep
her company in the great universe in which
she herself was so small.
"Willy! Willy! Willyu' called Ann.
80. where IS that cat: O, dear! Willy
Willy"'
she spent the night that way. Mrs.
Stones daughter Ruth, who was up with a
sick child. heard her
miss Millet must have lost her cat" she
told her mother in the morning; ~ heard
her calling him all night long"
Pretty soon, indeed, Ann came over, her
small old face wild and wan. "Hev YOU
seen anything of Willy" she asked. "He's
been out all night, an I'm afraid some
Trims happened to him. | never knowed
n SIS n11tc
When they told her they had not, she
went on to the next neighbours to inquire.
LIT no one had seen anything of the cat.
AL that day and night, at intervals, people
heard her plaintive, inquiring call: "Wil1y !
Willy. Willy! Willy"
The next Sunday Ann was not out to
church. 1t was beautiful day, too.
"I'm goin' TO run over an see eff Ann
Millet's SICK" Mrs. Stone told her daugh-
ter, when she returned from church. "She
want out to meetin' to-day, and Pm afraid
sometimes the matter. [ never knew her
to miss gOin"
So she went over. Miss Millet was sitting
in her little wooden rocking chair in her
kitchen, when she opened the door.
'Why, Ann Millet, are you sick?'
"No, amt sick"
"You want out to meetin', an / didn't
know"
Il amt never goin' to meetin' agin."
"Why, what do you mean"
"Alrs. Stone dropped into a chair and
stared at her neighbor.
81 mean Jest what | saw. | amt never