The Washington critic., 1886-02-27
THAT BLESSED OLD MAID

the only relative she has left, and we
must invite her here for the winter,
anyhow. She and John stayed with
father and mother while l was roaming
here and there. Now they are all
gone, Martha's alone, and it's no more
than right for me to look out for her
awhile. I'll write Immediately"
Eyes, Nathan, that is right, l know,
but | can't help dreading it. / always
had horror Of old maids" and Mrs.
Tracy looked nervously around the
plain kitchen of the little farmhouse.
"You needn't be afraid of Martha;
she isn't very old, and venture to say
none of the prying, disagrecable old
maids we read Of"
In spite of his reassuring words Mrs.
Tracy dreaded the arrival of her hus-
bands maiden sister, whom he had not
seen since the day he left his New
England home to try his fortune in the
new West.
But, as Clara soon discovered, there
was nothing to fear from the quiet,
sad.faced woman who came to them,
whose life had been so full of devotion
to others and noble, self-sacrilice that
there had been no time for growing
hard and bitter because some of life's
sweetest blessings had been denied
her.
The children, Bert, Mable and baby
Ray, with the unerring instinct of
childhood, felt the depth of her quiet
kindliness and took her at once into
their loving little hearts.
Miss Tracy, although wholly unob-
trusive, was naturally very observant.
This, together with the interest she
felt in her brothers family, led her,
before she had been many weeks an in
mate of his house, to make dis
covery.
Nathan, in his desire to get on in the
world, was missing much that would
have made life pleasant. In thinking
SO constantly of the future he was
losing all the sweetness of the present
That this was affecting the whole
family was only too apparent. II was
seen in Clara's anxious, weary face,
and repeated in less degree upon the
countenances of their children.
There seemed to be no rest for any of
them. No relaxation in the struggle
for existence. Nothing to vary the
wearing monotony Of everyday labor,
which, like some huge juggernaut, was
crushing beneath. its wheels all that
might have made life sweet and pleas
ant.
Martha shrank from interfering with
the habits of her brothers family; but,
laa1, ,na ,1naI cha fo,. t1n,,, pnt1,
ing but sorrow and disappointment,
and felt that something must be done
to save them. Watching for an oppor-
tunity to talk alone with Nathan, she
| gladly accepted his invitation one morn
ing to ride with him to town.
They were rolling rapidly over the
level prairie road, when Martha broke
the silence.
"Itis truly exhilarating, to ride in this
bracing air, over these fine roads, es.
pecially with so nice rig as you call
it, The buggy is easy and the horses
really fine animals. You must be do
ing well now, Nathan.
Il suppose am, Martha, but it has
been hard pull, with losing crops
sickness, etc. We're in debt yet, but
with hard work and economy l guess
we can make it up in another year.
"Then what will come neXt?"
81 intend to have nice large barn
and some choice cattle then l shall
build good house and prepare to take
comfort. There isn't better farm thar
mine for miles around, and / mus
make the best improvements possible
Then, some day, we'll have the bes
of everything.
"But who will share 1t all Will
you p
why, my family, of course !!
opening his eyes wide with astonish
ment.
"All except Clara, you mcan." sol
emnly.
why, Martha, how you talk 1t i
for her I'm working else, It
like to knowY'
"Now, Nathan, just take few plail
words from your sister, who mean
only kindness. I've had experience
and, in my Judgment, Clara hasn't vi
tally enough to take her through
another year Of hard work i hay,
your interests at heart, and would no
needlessly arouse your fears, but an
convinced that your wife Is wearing
out. She must rest from this constan
labor or your children will soon b.
motherless."
Don't Martha, talk in that way
Clara is us we'll as usual. She was al
ways slender and delicate. I'd hav,
gladly kept her in ease, but she knew
she married poor man, and was will
ing to work up" He was annoyed.
II doubt not you have been kind Il
her, and now that she has helped 'worl
up so far | know you will be glad q
give her vacation. You do nc
realize what 1t is to care for three chill
dren and do all the work of farr
house. She might have been slil
when girl, but not careworn. Tc
night, If you will look at one of he
old pictures, you will be convince
that am right"
"Suppose am; what them"
'llow much would it cost to sen
her back to her parents for the winter
/ can keep house"
"Simply out of the question. Sh
wouldn't go, Martha"
Il thought you didn't know, but sll
, is as homesick as child to see h,
father and mother She hasn't said 81
she never complains, but an unutteri
BILE longing fills her eyes, and the teal
flow when she speaks of them. Sure
your consent and my willingness
keep house for her, she would glad
CO."
"And you think it would benei
her?"
Undoubtedly, and 1t would be Il