The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1888-07-13

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die-I shall faint!'
And that was the end Of it.
The old orchard, with its fra grant ounce
bushes, its gnarlcd apple trees, its four
leaved c%lovers, was a thing of the past; a
cotton-mill roared and Numbered all day
long, where the birds built and the trees
blossomed except in Miss Becky memory.
She had turned her thoughts TO raising
plants when she was left to her own re-
sources, but one cruel Winters night kill
ed all her slips, and the capital was lacking
by which she might renew her stock.
Since then she had gone out for daily sew
ing, had watched the sick, had been IN de-
mand for a temporary housekeeper when
ever a tired matron wished an outing; but
lately her eyes no longer served her for
fine work, and sew ing machines had been
introduced; she was not so alert in the sick
room as of yore; she moved more slowly,
and her housekeeping talent was no longer
in request; added to this, the bank where
her little savings had been growing, one
day failed and left her high and dry.
Some of her friends had travelled to past
ures new, some had married away, some
had ignored or forgotten her. AS for
Larry Rogers, he had been away from
Plymouth this many n year. Somebody
had sent him abroad the year after Lucy
genius. He had grown INTO a famous
violinist, playing all over the country to
crowded houses. 1t was 4 beautiful ro-
nance to Miss Becky to read in the
Plymouth Record about our "gifted towns
man, she did not blame him because she
sat in the shadow, because her life had
been colorless. She sang again the old
tunes he had taught her. and made a little
sunshine in her heart. All of happiness
she had ever known he had brought her.
Why should she complain And now she
was going to the Old Ladies' Home!
at isn't exactly what | expected in my
YOUTH she said to the old Doctors
widow.
"No; but you'll nave a nice room and a
bright fire; and the %neighbors will drop in
to see you and make it homelike. Now,
there's old Mrs. Gum. Nothing can per-
suade her to go to the Home. She says it's
only a genteel almshouse after all; and so
she rubs along with what little she can
earn and what The neighbors have a mind
to send in, and they have to do it mighty
gingerly, too, just as though they were
asking a favor of her. Lor', she doesn't
earn her salt
81 dare say" returned Miss Becky.
"Now, if it hadn't been for the rheuma-
tism / could earn my living for years yet,
and maybe get something ahead again,
but it seems as if the rheumatism laid
in wait for the poor and friendless."
sfYou ought TO have married when
you were young, Becky" said the doctors
widow, whohad forgotten all about Becky's
love affair and labored under the impress
sion that she never had a chance-an i'm
preston that matrons are apt to entertain
concerning their single friends. Miss
Becky had beea spending some weeks W it'll
Mrs. DR.. Dwight, who had moved away
from Plymouth after her husbands death.
She was there chiefly to put some stitches
into the widows wardrobe, which nobody
else would do reasonably, that lady's grief
having incapaciated her from holding a
needle or giving her mind to material de-
tails of ''seam and gusset and band" Bat
during the visit, Miss Becky had been
lno.,ol r,;tI 1a, ch r,act affaalrc af pIaat-
matism, which had kept her in bed for
weeks, till her wages were exhausted by
drugs and doctors fees. 1t was at this
time thai she made up her mint to go into
the Home on her return to Plymouth.
Mrs. Dwight saw her off at the station.
81 hope You'll find the Home cozy," she
said, outside the car window. ''It's lucky
Parson Amory left you hat 800, after all.
He might have doubled IT,"
eyes, | suppose So" Miss Becky an
swered meekly. Perhaps she was think
ing that, if she were Mrs. Dwight, no old
friend of hers should go begging fora
refuge at an almshouse. Perhaps she was
thinking of the pretty, comfortable home
waiting for her friend, and wondering
why their fortunes were so unlike.
"Write when you reach Plymouth, and
let me know now you're suited, said Mrs.
Dwight, and just then the ears gave
| lurch and left her behind, and Miss Becky
turned her glance inward, Somebody had
taken a seat beside her.
"Your friend was speaking of Parson
Amory and Plymouth" he said. 81
couldn't help hearing. l was born in
Plymouth myself, but haven't met a soul
from there these twenty years. am on
my way to look up my old friends"
"Twenty years is a long time answer
ed Becky, 81 am afraid You won't find
many of your friends left. You'll hardly
know Plymouth"
81 suppose mott suppose not. Have
you lived there long"
81? have lived there all my days"
.sGood, I'm hungry for news of the
people. Tell me everything you can
think of. Did Parson Amory leave a for
tune? He was called close. Where is
Miss Ncll-married or dead? ! can see the
old place in my minds eye, and the par
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