The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1885-10-02
Susy's Mistake.

In darkened room, where the shut
tiers were closely bowed and tied with
broad black ribbons, q lady was unfolding
and stroking with tender hands the con.
tents of small trunk. Not packed for
q travellers comfort, the trunk contained
only the possessions of babe a year
old, who had "gone before" to the
heavenly home. For six months the
bereaved mother had made weekly visit
to tie trunk. unfolding and refolding
every baby garment, packing carefully
the baby toys and strokirg tenderly
every tiny object endeared by the touch
of the little one she had lost. Yet, on
the day when the sixth month had rolled
by, her tears fell upon the dainty
embroiderics, the worn socks, the broken
toys, as fast rs on the day when she first
put aside the clothes Baby Willie would
never wear again. Her dress of heavy
black, loaded with Grape, suited well her
pale, tear-stained face heavy eyes and
grief-drawn mouth.
While she was yet busy at her mourn
ful task the door opened softly, and two
beautiful boys of four years old, her
twin sons. Eddie and Charlie came into
the room. Seeing their mother busy,
they softly stepped to her side, and
stood quiet until Eddie spied tin horse
and wagon on the floor A moment later
he had grasped it and was pulling it
down from tine summit of pile Of little
garments. Down toppled the whole pile,
the cart rafting noisily. The mother
looked around with quick frown.
''You naughty, heartless boy r. she
cried, sobbing. "How can you touch
your poor, dead brothers things? l
think you are old enough to know poor
Willie is gone, never to come back, and
mamma is so sad-so--"
Here the sobs choked her; and the
children, terrified, began to Cry, too.
Eddie sorry" one sobbed; "dont
Ky, mamma.
Is Charlie bad boy, too?" asked the
other, with piteous wall in his voice
that should have gone straight to the
mothers heart.
go to the nursery" she said and the
little ones trotted of, hand in hand,
vaguely conscious that they were in dis
grace, and ready to be comforted by
rosy-cheeked Mamie, their nurse.
"And, dear knows" said that warm
hearted individual to the cook, sit is
shame for the poor darlings. It's not
blaming Mrs. Aiken am for crying her
eyes out for the beautiful boy she lost.
Didn't love every curl of his hair, the
pretty pet? But look at the two that's
left. Wouldn't they be q comfort to
anybody, and Mrs. Aiken only speaks to
them now to set them crying. Sure she
can't expect babies like them to remem-
Der their brother more than six months,
aud if they were downright wicked, she
couldn't be harder than she is if they
laugh or romp. She'll break their spirits
entirely"
And the mother, rocking to and fro,
Will bllO Vi uOi OCoSNA IVY SAeoHONA
to her heart, was thinking:
Everybody is forgetting Willie but
me. But I will never forget. will
never, never cease to mourn for my
darling. Oh, Willie! WilIie!"
Breaking in upon her sobs came a
whistle, merry whistle of o popular
tune, and the door Of the darkened
room opened again noisily.
"Where are you, Susy? Obi"
Voice and face fell, and Mr.. Aiken
stood silently at the door. his eyes
slowly gathering the mournful express
sion suited to the funeral aspect of the
scene before him.
!" Iwas hoping you had gone out when
Ibid not find you in the sitting-room.
he said "but Mamie told me you were
upstairs. I wish you would not spend
so much time in this room, Susy. It is
wearing away your health"
"Oh, Fred, the mother sobbed, show
can you whistlei I don't expect sorrow