Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1888-01-19
put pride in her pocket; but just ther


ounce bushes, its gnarled apple trees,
its four-leaved clOvers, was thing OF
the past; cotton mill roared and thun-
dered there all day long, where the birds,
built and the trees bloSsOmed thirty ODD
years ago. 1t no longer blossomed ex-
cept in Miss Becky's memory. She had
turned her thoughts to raising plants
when she was left to her own resources,
but one cruel winters night killed all
her slips, and the capital was lacking by
which she might renew her stock. Since
then she had gone out for daily sewing,
had watched with the sick, had been iii
demand for a temporary housekeeper
whenever tired matron wished an out
ing, but latterly her eyes no longer serv-
ed her for fine work, and sewing ma
chimes had been introduced; she was not
so alert in the sick room as of yOre; she
moved more slowly and her house keep
ing talent was no longer in request;
added to this, the bank where her little
earnings had been growing, one day
failed and left her high and dry. Some
of her friends had travelled to pastures
new, some had married away, some had
ignored or forgotten her. As for Larry
Rogers he had been away from Plymouth
this many a year. Somebody had sent
him abroad the year after Lucy AmOry's
marriage to develop his musical genius.
He had grown into famous violinist,
PLAYING all over the country to crowded
houses, before the finest people in the
land. 1t was beautiful romance to
Miss Becky to read in the Plymouth
Record about our "gifted townsman;"
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 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 l expected in
my YOUTH" she said to the old doctors
widow.
"No; but you'll have a nice room and
a bright fire, and the neighbors will
drop in to see you and make it home
like. Now there's old Mrs Gum. Moth
ing can persuade her to go to the home.
She says it's only a genteel alms-house
after all; and so she rubs along with
what little she can earn and what the
neighbors have 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 l 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."
"You ought to have married when
YOU were young, Becky" said the doc
tors widow, who had forgotten all
about Becky's love affair, and Iabored
under the impression that she never had
5 chance an impression which matrons
are apt TO entertain concerning their
single friends. Miss Becky had been
spending some weeks with Mrs DR..
Dwight, who had moved away from Ply
mouth after her husbands DEATH She
was there chiefly to put some stitches
into the widows wardrobe, which no
body else would do reasonably" that
lady's grief having incapacitated her
from holding a needle or giving her
mind to material details of "seam and
gusset and band" But during the visit
Miss Becky had been seized with her
sharpest attacks of rheumatism, which
had kept her in bed for weeks, till her
wages were exhausted by drugs and doc
tors fees. 1t was at this time that she
made up her mind 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 cosy" she
said, outside the car window. ats
lucky Parson Amory left you that 500
after all. He might have doubled it."
"Yes, l 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 for
a refuge at an almshouse. Perhaps she
was thinking of the pretty comfortable
home waiting for her friend, and Won
dering why their fortunes were so un-
like.
"Write when you reach Plymouth, and
let me know how you're suited" said
Mrs. Dwight, and just then the cars
gave lurch and left her behind, and
Miss Becky turned her glance inwards
Somebody had taken 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. l
am on my way to look up my old friends"
Twenty years is long time," an
swered Becky. "Im afraid you won't
find many of your friends left. You'll
hardly know Plymouth"
81 suppose nOt-I suppose not. Have
you lived there long?"
81? l have lived there all my days"
"Good I'm hungry for news of the
people. Tell me everything you can
think of. Did Parson Amory leave
fortune? He was called close. Where's
Miss Nell, married or dead? l can see
the old place in my minds eye, and the
under the elms, and the or
chard behind it where Lucy Amory
planted young tree on her wedding
day, and the gown little Becky Thorne
wore. By the way, is she alive? Do
you know herr"
Miss Becky hesitated an instant.
eyes," she replied. 81 know her
more or less. She's alive"
"And married? She must be sixty
odd; she was pretty creature, such-I
suppose are wrinkles nowl Where have
The years gone? Is her home in the old
place still?"
"Her homer said Miss Becky, flush
ing little. "She has none; she is on
ler way to the Old Ladies' Home"
"To the Old Ladies' homel Becky
he gasped. "And I"
"You seem to have known her pretty |
wellF' said Becky, who was beginning
to enjoy the incognito.
81 should think so. I've loved Becky
Thorne from my cradle; we had silly |
quarrel which parted us; such trifle,
when / look back. Do YOU ever look |