The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1888-08-17
DARBY AND JOAN.

If their mistress could nave seen them,
she, too, would have rejoiced, for the
flowers were her children, petteddarlings,
for whom no care could be too great, nc
attention too painstaking. She had
housed them in winter, set them out in
summer, trimmed, guarded, hung over
over them year after year.
Involuntarily one looked for her mild
face at the window, smiling out upon
them, but She was not to be seen. For
the second time only in her life Mrs. True
lay in her chamber, too i'll to heed the
pattering rain, or to think OF the plants
growing so fast in tho sweet, moist air,
even though, through the open window
of her room, both sounds and scents en-
tered freely. the peaceful sounds and
h~ealthful scents of the country.
1t was very still in'the room where she
lay; very still and orderly. The old fur
niture WIS polished and speckless; the
linen as white as against the pill
lows, which had been II part of her bridal
outfit, rested the gray head, still neatly
cared for, and the face, with its pallor,
still wore II look of kindly Impotence.
At her side sat her husband, good
Deacon True, with bowed head and sad
eyes; and in his work-hardened hand he
held her feeble one.
Presently a ~footstep sounded on the
muddy sidewalk outside. hen the gate
latch clicked. Someone walked up the
path and tapped softly on the house door,
and was as softly admitted.
But the tive, with their faces turned
toward each other, took no notice.
''How is she?" said the ~neighbor down
stairs who had dropped in"
"Failin'," answered Fidelia Perkins,
the maid of all work, temporarily EN-
gagged for the emergency.
"How's he?'
'Fairly beat out with grievin'. Seems's
if he hadn't no heart for eatin' ordrinkin'
or nothin'. Just settin' up there along o.
her, and holdin' her hand. | never did
see folks set sech store by each other as
they do.n
"Well they haven't nobody else to set
store by, you see" said the visitor, estab-
fishing herself by the fire, and holding
out two substantial feet to the blaze.
"No, that's so" ABSENTEE tidelia, TAX
ing out her knitting. "Now you just
make yourself comfortable, r~is' Clap.
Pm real glad to see somebody. It's
dreadful lonesome here. jest those two
still critters upstairs, and me and the cat
downstairs, and nothin' on earth to do.
Why, there amt so much as Il teaspoon
full of dirt TO clean up nowhere in the
house. | never did see such house
keepin'."
'She was n master hand for c~leanin',"
said Mrs. Clapp, shaking her head
thoughtfully, land as l say, there warn't
no children to make dire"
"No, there warn't, but them plants is
about as bad, to my thinkin,' cluttering
up the place half the year, and havin'.to
trail around with a waterin' pot, and
weedin' and stewin' over EN- the rest of
the time. She took n sight Of comfort in
'em, though"
"She was a real good woman, Mis- True
was" sighed Mrs. Clapp, speaking al
ready in the past tense.
"And he's a powerful good a
''There amt no better"
'Queer sech goodfoiks hadn'ta family"
"Well, they did have one child"
do tell? l never heard of it before.
Boy or girl?"
''Boy, l believe; law, Mis- True was
most tickled to death about it. She was
as proud as an old hen with one chick,
but it didn't last long. was sent for to
nurse ner, and she was Il dreadful sick
woman, out of her head, just ravingabout
that baby; goin' on about what she was
meaning to do for it.
she had it all planned out fora life
time how she was Il goin' to rock him to
sleep nights, and how, by and by, he was
agoin' to set to the table in 4 high chair
alongside of her, and, finally, how he was
to take the farm md live with them al
ways. My! she was ramblin' on so fast
and q smiling away to herself. while the
rest of us-me and the doctor and the
deacon-was Jest a-tightin' for that baby's
life. And, at last, when she come to her
self there warn't nothin' but a dead baby
to shew her"
Dear, dear! did she take on much;"
said Fidelia, dropping her knitting in her
lap.
Take on9 Well, not like some folks.
She didn't screech nor cry; but she jest
turned awful white, and her eyes got big
and bad lookin'; it WAS enough to ha'nt
you to see EN-, and she never said nothin'
to me; jest moaued. and caught ahold of
the deacon's coat sleeve as ii she needed
somethin' to comfort her. 1t did seems
if her heart was broke sure. She never
had no more children
II guess That's why they've been so set
on each other, unused Fidclia.
"Well, as to that, there amt no tellin'.
Some few folks are so-consideratc and
feelin-but mighty few. Most married
folk get tired of Twin together, or, atany
rate, they appear so, to home. The deacon
and Mis- True they's been like they was
|a'courtin' all these years. He's done all
the chores for her that n mortal man
could do, and she's been as sweet to him
well, as sweet rs Il of Them doves accom-
away out there on the barn"
"Hark! What's thaty'' said Fidelia,
holding up one hand, warningly.
1t was only the sound of a weak voice,
above, and n deeper voice trying To an
swer soothingly.
While the two women had talked the
afternoon had waned. The rain seemed
like fast falling tears. The flowers, some
of them, were closing drowsily. The
shadows were deepening. The light
green foliage of a birch tree near the
house looked gray in the twilight.
Through the open chamber window
above sounded the sleepy trill Of a bird,
safely snuggled in his nest under the
young leaves.
Curiously enough this tender note
alone had the power to rouse the dying
She had always been in close
sympathy with all fair helpless things,
flowers, young birds and infants. Now,
in her extremity, this weak cry pierced to
her heart and woke her.
Where's the babyl' she whispered.
why don't they bring the baby to mef"
She was living over again her only sick
noe She tnnninl hersalf rnnnn nnna