The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1886-01-20


did she want to go?" "To Swamp
Scott" said he.
"You needn't stop, Mr.. JONES'"
said 1. "Ill pay her fare"
Your" he echoed.
" Yes, ;" said l. "I'll take her to
my own house until she can telegraph
to her friends, or something. My
wife will be good to her, know, for
the sake of her own old mother out
East.n
"Just as you please" said Mr.. Jones.
" But when you've been on the road as
long as l have you'll find that this sort
of thing doesn't answer"
| hope l shall never be on the road
too long to forget my Christian char
ity," l answered, little nettled. And
| took out my worn pocket-book and
handed over the money.
We did not stop at Stumpville Station
after all, but put on more steam and
ran as fast as it was safe to drive our
engine-and when, a little past mid
night, we reached Swampscott, where
we were due at half-past seven, Pierre
Rene, the Frenchman, came on board
to relieve me, and helped my old lady
off the train, flat basket, traveling-bag
and all.
Am l to be put off, after all?" said
she, with a scared look around her.
Cheer up, ma'am," said 1. "You
are all right. Now, then, look out for
the stepl Here we are"
" Where am ~" said the old lady.
AT Swampscott, ma'am," said l.
And you are the kind man who
paid my fare?" said she. " But my
daughter and her husband will repay
you when y
" All right, ma'am," said 1. " And
now, if you'll just take my arm, we'll be
home in quarter of an hour"
" But" said she "why can't / go di-
rectly to my destination"
" It's middling late, ma'am," said l,
"and houses don't stand shoulder to
shoulder in Swampscott. My nearest
neighbor is mile and a half away.
But never fear, ma'am. I've wife that
will be glad to bid you welcome for the
sake of her own mother"
She murmured few words of thanks,
but she was old and weary, and the
path was rough and uneven, in the
very teeth of keen November blast,
and walking wasn't an easy task. Pres
emily we came to the little cottage
on the edge of the Swampscott woods,
where the light glowed warmly through
the turkey-red curtains.
" O Mark, dear, how late you aren'
cried Kate, making haste to open the
door, "Come in, quick, out of the wind.
Supper is all ready, and-but who is
that with your"
In hurried whisper 1 told her all.
{" Did l do right, Kate?" said l.
"Rightl OF course you did," said
she. I" Ask her to come in at once. I'll
put another cup and saucer on the
table"
Tenderly assisted the chilled and
weary old lady across the threshold.
"Here's my wife," said l. "And
here's cup of smoking-hot coffee and
some of Katie's own biscuits and
chicken-pie. You'll be all right when
the cold is out of your joints btu
"You are very welcome" said Kate,
brightly, as she advanced to unite the
VISITORS veil and loosen the folds of
her cloak. But, all of a sudden, l
heard a cry, l." Mother, O mother"
"Hold on, Katel" said I, with the
coffee-pot still in my hand, as l had
been lifting it from the fire. "This is
never -
"But it is, Mark" cried out Kate,
breathlessly. cts mother, my own
mother! Oh, help me, dear, quickly
she has tainted away!'
But she was all right again, presently,
sitting by the fire, with her feet on one
of the warm cushions which Kate had
knit with wooden needles, and drinking
hot coffee. 1t was all true. The I'M
fortunate passenger whose pocket had
been picked on the train, and to whose
rescue l had come, was no other than
my Kate's own mother, who had de-
termined to risk the perils of journey
to the far West to see her child once
again.
She has been with us ever since, the
dearest old mother-in-law that ever 6
man had, the comfort of our household
and the guardian angel of little Kate
and the baby when am away on my
long trips.-lSelected.