Morris tribune., 1886-10-27


they should not do so by locking up
all scraps with her own keys. She
was also vigllant in guarding the kitch.
en- while any food was being cooked
| there. II she could not remain IN the
kitchen herself she set one of her chill,
dren there to espy if either of the
servants picked and stole stray NOR
| sells.
AS to clothes, when Mr.. Bannerman
had taken all the possible wear out Of
q pair of pantaloons, that garment
WAS altered by tailor to TIT one Of
| the Bannerman boys, and after the
boy had done with it it was handed
over to Martha, who had to adapt 1t
to Phils requirements. Similarly
Martha herself occasionally got an
old gown which had been worn out by
Mrs. B. and her eldest daughter. Hel
clothes were so shabby that she would
not have dared to go out in them
but Mrs. Bannerman did not want
| her to 90 out, nor to enter into evl
communications, as she put 1T, Will
other servants and with tradesmen'
boys. 1t was Mrs. B. herself who took
the loaves from the baker and the
meat from the butcher and who gave
orders to the grocer's young man
Martha was never seen. Sometimes
on Sundays she used to see the clean
addressed servants of neighbors going
to churcnh and she supposed, in hel
shame, that they musG" all be gooc
girls who had never gone astray' Like
herself She was afraid to become
acquainted with any of them. for she
would have to explain how she came
to be toiling in q Christian home
without wages, and what would they
say then? Assuredly they would spurn
her as q wretched thing, not fit to keep
company with such as they.
1t never occurred to Martha that
the Bannermans were doing her any
wrong, or to fancy that the weak
languor which used to steal over her
day after day came from overwork
and want of proper food. She had
racking headaches which made her al
most blind for whole hours; her limbs
were often so stiff and heavy that she
could scarcely drag herself over the
floor; sometimes crockery fell out OF
her hands because all horsepower
seemed to have left her fingers, and
then she would be abused with such
shrlll violence by her mistress, who
accused her of breaking things on pur-
pose, that she would tremble like a
leaf and find no words to justify her
self. But; much as she suffered, Mar
tina endured less from her own miser-
able plight than from the decline which
she saw was eating away the life OF
her only friend and companion, Phil.
This poor lame boy, who was so
thin that his limbs appeared to be all
bone, was getting to be more and
more unequal to his work. Some
times Martha heard him pause and
groan on the staircase as he tried in
vain to carry up o. scuttle that was
too heavy for him. She gave him
what help she could, but if Mr.. or Mrs.
Bannerman caught her assisting the
boy, Phil was made to pay the pen
atty under the form of cuffs on the
ears. His master and mistress were
never tired of saying that he was an
i'll conditioned vagabond; who robbed
them OF the bread he ate. They prom
Used him hell-fre as his inevitable por.
ton, and poor Phil went stun
bling about the house doing the best
he could and bewailing his own
wickedness that made him so slothful,
for Mr.. Bannerman had assured him
that it WAS all sloth that made him
unable to lift the coal scuttle. "Con-
slider the ant, thou sluggard" said
this Christian to him many times.
One day Phil's sloth mastered him
and he could not rise from the mat
tress IN the pantry on which he slept.
He had been too weak and listless to
eat on the previous day and, coming
down early on the cold winter morn
ing, Martha found him hot with fever
and biting his counterpart as he sat
up looking wildly about him. She told
him to lie still for awhile, and present.
ly, at breakfast time, informed her
master that Phil was too i'll to get up.
"Ill make him get up, the little hyp-
ocrite!" answered Mr.. Zimmerman,
and down stairs he went, catching up
stick as he marches through the hall.
Martha heard the sound of blows and
few faint means, but Phil could not
rise. Stealing, fearful and trembling
into the pantry when Mr.. Bannerman
had retired after inficting his chastise-
ment, she saw Phil lying on the floor,
where he had dropped in trying to
dress.
II can't help it if they burn me,
Martial" he sobbed, feebly. 81 did
my BEST"
"They won't burn you, dear-no-
body WILL" said Martha, sobbing, too,
and taking him in her arms. "Doyou
feel very bad dear? Tell me where it
hurts you"
II did my-best," faltered the poor
boy, and soon afterwards he lay quite
still, with his head on Martha's
shoulder and his eyes fixed and shin.
ing.
There was an inquest after that and
Martha heard the Bannermans talk
ing at the table about how the Coro-
her had complimented them. She
read report of the inquest, too, in
the newspaper and saw how her mas
ter had deposed to having adopted a
boy who had the prison faint upon
him, and how he had endeavored to
lJlcthS d SOOu CllL ISVlctIl vi Ul0 ltu.
"But am sorry to say the deceased
was an idle boy" continued Mr.. B.,
land gavemy wife and me much troub-
lie. l am afraid he used to drink on
the sly and l should not wonder if his
death arose from his having under
mined his constitution by these
stealthy, evil habits"
1t seemed somehow to Martha, as
she read these lines, that the world
around her was all black. There was
no justice in it and, consequently,
there could be no hope. The coroner
had complimented Mr.. Bannerman,
but for poor Phil, who had "done his
BEST" as he had testified in his last
gasp, not d kindly word had been
said. Only scorn for Phil from the
coroner and jury-scorn and injustice;
for Martha knew that he had done his
best. In her own last breath-aye,
and before God afterwards-she would
swear that he had done all he could
to be good servant.
Then, as she shuddered alone in the
nlght-for all the family had gone to