Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1886-03-25
A GOOD INVESTMENT.

windows and brown wooden porch
that was the sort Of house the Darrells
lived in, and meant to die in, Berta used
to say, sometimes rebelliously, but always
hopelcssly, until that startling evening
when Miss Matilda came home in state
of emotional chaos and threw herself on
the lounge.
Berta was knitting an amazing stitch
before dyspeptic little CRATE, with her
feet crossed dscissors-fashion on the fender.
Lost your Office ?" CALCULATED that
young person, when she had pieced to-
gether the bits of broken sobs that fell
from her sisters lips like the toads in
the fairy ta,e. 'Do give me that paper
and let me see what it means
"It --starvation-for two p
walled out the disconsolate Matilda from
the sofa.
1t certainly did, as far as the six lines
of official literature went; but youth is
so insolent in its hopefulness, that when
the youngest Miss Darrell had buried
the letter under the Goals with aevicious
little dig her spirits mounted with the
blaze
"Oh, Teddy, dear, don't go on like
that; just think, there's enough money
in the tin bank to put silver streak in
our cloud and whole months salary,
with our bills paid in advance"
Seventy five dollarsp' shifted Miss
Darrell.
'1t is that mach better than nothing, "
observed Berta, with philosophical nod
at the crumpled-up figure, and another
nod-a confidential ne-at the fire. 81
believe could smuggle us out of our
tro1blcs if you would only trust the
money to me,
Likely" retorted Miss Darrell, with
tear-choked sob of contempt. 'T
would as soon trust baby with
Matches
''That's what call burning shame; !;
but even allowing wasted the money,
we would at least indulge in new set Of
woes There's nothing like variety in
ones miseries, Matilda; and if you only
would trust me, would buy two tickets
right away"
Miss Darrell permitted the feeble fire.
light to flicker for moment across her
small, wet face, as she lifted it from the
arm of the sofa.
s'Tickets for whata Tickets for
where?"
Anywhere" answered Berta, with a
generous circle of her brown hands in the
air. ssFor the West, I guess, if the
money would take US that far"
ssDid ever"
''No, Matilda, you neverl If you had
ever done anything else but plod right
on in that old rut of an Office, you
wouldn't be crying because you are out Of
your rut to-day. Serves you just right
for not marrying Jack. Oh, you needn't
moan or wriggle like that, Teddy dear
it's true, every word, and you know it 7"
Miss Darrell raised her head again, and
this time her face was flushed dark,
tempestuous red, and it wasn't fre-light
either
''True or not, you are not the one to
reproachl If I have kept on plodding in
my 'rut, it was only because you had to
be raised and cared for; and now that /
am weak and unnerved from my-my
trouble, you can sit there and taunt me
with your own superior intelligence. Wait
until you have done something to prove
it before you begin to brag. Oh, my
head my head !" and down it went again
among the cushions.
ssYou don't consider my head, nor my
heart, either, to go on in that unfeeling
fashion. Yes, it is unfeeling in you, Ma
tilda, when you know how it hurts me to
see you suffer so for nothing"
''Nothing2 GoodLord"
sI suppose and with statistical
cheerfulness the girl set herself bolt up
right and proceed to check off undeniable
facts on her fngers-sI suppose the
half the world would change places with
you and me tonight. Just think Of the
streets lined with beggars; the hospitals
cram-full of suffering people; the insane
asylums and prisons, and"
s'And then look at u.s. Two women
not over strong, with only one months
wages between them and the street; the
contrast is really dazzlingp'
She willfully ignored the small bank
behind the Swiss clock; but Berta, wise
from experience, suffered the omission in
silence. It was 50 like her small, nerv-
ous-temp cred sister to struggle on and
on like Spartan, and then stumble at last
in the slough Of dependency with a
helpless splash, that she crept over to
the sofa, and proceeded to administer on
the half-exposed cheek a series of those
carressing little dabs that go such long
way toward soothing woman's deepest
woe.
When the storm Of tears had lulled into
irregular and rather childish
sobs, Berta, with her cheeks flushed and
her voice quiverlng with eagerness, be-
gan:
sOh, Matilda, do let US gol If we
we're among strangers we could be no
worse of than we are here. If we were