The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1886-04-09
AN EASTER GIFT.

NO, SAID Uncle LeDcdee, no, we
told 'em just exactly how 'twould be-
They wouldn't believe us. Now let EN-
take the consequences.
eve warned 'em beforehand said
Aunt Zeruiah. "They couldn't expect
nothn' fairer than that.
Uncle Zeb and Aunt Ruey sat looking
at each other, one on each side of the big
stone fireplace, like the old man and
woman we sometimes see tete-a-tefe in a
! toy-shop
| They were ancient and weazen and
/ wrnkled-so thin that it would seem as
| if an extra blast from the brass-nozzed
bellows must assuredly blow them away,
while their spectacles shone like stray
stars from some unhcard-of constellation
and the veins stood ont like whip-eords
from their lean old hands,
Uncle Zeb Waterson and Aunt Ruey
| his sister. were old bachelor and old maid
All their lives long they had been saving
and scrimping and pinching, as if economy
were the handspring of their existence.
| They never saw red apple with any APP
| probation of its artistic beauty; they
thought of it only as being worth so much
4 barrel; the corn slkcd and tassellcd out
only as so much ''prime Indian-meal;' the
| pink-and- cloyer-heads represented
only pasturage value, and the star-eyed
daisies were nothing more than ''pesky
weeds, that no critter on earth would eat. :"
And when, eight years age, their half
sister Nelly had run waY-actually run
away from four dollars month and her
board-to marry black-cyed sailor laddie
Uncle Zeb and Aunt Rucy had washed
their skinny hands of her altogether
Alas and alacl-a-day Love proved but
a tickle reed for Hal and Nelly Arbush to
lean on. The young sailor was lost on the
first voyage out after his marriage, and
Nelly was left TO support her child as best
she might.
1t was an uneven battle between lifc's
troubles and the poor young widow, and
when Nelly died, the little girl was sent
home to Spriggcrtlale with a pitful letter
iipIi tiiS ypuilS HiotHci "iips't sun ilst'i Sei
so early.
But Uncle Zeb and Aunt Ruey abso-
lutely declined to receive Nell.
'Shc amt nothin' to ms, said Uncle
Zeb.
Let her go to Hal Arbush's relationsl'
said Aunt Rucy ''Eh he hadn't no re-
lations Well, amt to blame for that,
as know Of"
''You wouldn't let this child go ON the
town., said Mr. Jones, the express agent,
to whose care little Nell lad been con-
signed as if she were brown paper pack
age.
eyes, would y said Uncle Zcb
''Why not?" said Aunt Ruey, bluntly.
SO Nell was taken, with her little band
box full of clothes. to the town house.
The matron looked puzzled-she had no
charges so young as Nell-but she kissed
the child, and gave her a piece Of ginger
bread and some patchwork. and told her
to be good girl.
Nell played about until She was tired
and then came to the matron with wistfnl,
upturned gaze.
"Whcn am going home ," said She
''Ths is home said the matron.
Nell's lips quivercd; her blue eyes swan
in tears
81 don't like it - said she. Il don't
want to live here Mamma said was to
go home at Easter' =
what does the child mean - said the
bewildered matron.
Don't you know ~ said Nell. ''First
comes Christmas--then Easter? And
mamma said | was to 60 home at Easter. :"
I'VE don't have casters hcrc--except
now and again few colored eggs, said
the good matron "This is home, my dear;
so put all of that nonsense ont of your
head -
But Nell cried, and refused to be com
forted
Can go and play ?" said she, after Il
little while, with tears yet ON her lashcs.
''Ycs-in the back yard, as much rs you
please said the kind matron.
81 don't like the back yard" said fas-
tidious Nell. ITS all full of brickbats
and tomato cans, and broken bottles that
won't hold anything. want TO goin the
woods.
well don't so far, then, said the
matron. who was busy mixing lime for the
| spring whitc-washing and perhaps was n
| little relieved to be rid of Nell's perpetual
| qucstioningS.
So away went little Nell, her white cam
brio sunbonnct ilnttering in the early April
wind, down into the dells, where the first
palld violets were thruSting their purple
heads up through layers of moist, dead
leaves, and a tender fringe of green fol-
| lowed the course of the rivulet, the hap
piest little lass that the sun ever shone on.
Il wish | could stay here always, and
| live in cave and eat berries and sassafras
| buds. and drink water from the brook =
| thought Nell. Il don't want to go back
to the town house, where Uncle Tim makes
faces at me, and old Mrs. Hatch's hand
shakes SO that She spills her tea all over
the table.
But the afternoon wore on--Saturtiay
afternoon. always the busiest OF the week