Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1888-10-22

UIlC OOA.
"Mamma, went on the child, "why
don't our fires shine red and bright
like the fires see through other peo-
Piles windows sometimes ?"
tWe can't afford it, dearD' sighed
the widow. elf you let the coal
blaze and crackle it soon turns into
ashes, and we must economize."
"Mamma," spoke up tiny voice
from the bed, 81 didn't eat quite
enough supper. Can't have anoth-
er slice of bread?''
"There's no more, Bessie" said
Mrs. Robbins, with a pang sharper
than any serpent's tooth in her heart.
$50 to sleep, dear, you'll soon for
get that you are hungry, and in the
morning we are to start for the coun-
try, you know
Bessie's eyes sparkled.
"We can have all the milk we
want, then, mamma, can't we?'' SAID
she.
''And pick up nuts where they
grow amongst the leaves, and eat ap-
Piles without paying two cents apiece
for them," chimed Lille. go, NAM
ma, why don't every one live in the
country? Mamma, don't you love
cousin Elsa? Is she a little girl? Will
she play with us?"
II don't know said Mrs. Robbins,
with a culver in her voice. "No, she
is not child, she is a woman, like
me. But | think she must be an an
gel in heart
For Elsa Robbins had been the
first helping hand which had stretch
ed out to lift the poor little widow
out of the abyss of trouble which had
almost overwhelmed her since her
husband died in the far away Mexi-
can land, whittier he had gone to
make his fortune, which, alas ! was
never made.
She had become sadly used to
sharp words and cold glances, but
kindness, sympathy, tender recogni-
ton of her claims to kinship, were
new and precious to her.
Just then came heavy, creaking
footstep on the foor-a tap at the
door.
Little Lille jumped up and scam
pered back to bed. Bessie drew her
curly head under the sheets.
"It's a mistake" said Mrs. Rob
bins, spiritlessly. "Nobody ever
comes here"
But she arose and opened the door.
There stood a stout, middle-aged
man, with cheerful blue eyes,a ruddy
complexion, and a leg-of-mutton top
whiskers, slightly sprinkled with
gray.
"Does Mrs. Walter Robbins live
here?' he asked.
Miss Elsa made waffles for supper,
and had fried some fresh crullers
brown and light as butterfly wings.
She Lad brought in the parlor lamp
and hunted up two little china mugs,
handleless and with the gilt inscrip-
ton faded off, which had been hers
and her dear sisters as children, long
ago.
"They'll please the little ones, !"
she thought
And Mrs. Robbins, in her clean
new cap, sat smiling at the hearth
stone, when Walters widow came in,
her black dress powdered with snow,
which had begun to fall at the gath
ering of dusk, with two little girls
clinging to her hand.
"Mv DEAR" said Mrs. Robbins,
you are welcome-kindly welcome
you and the dear little girls
And Elsa came in, her face soft
ened for the moment, and led them
Hospitality to the fire.
"It's poor place." said she, "but
mother is right-you are welcome. "
The children looked timidly around
at the black beams that traversed the
roof overhead-the deep set windows,
with their broad lodges filled with
musk plants and fish geraniums-the
strings of red peppers above the
mantel, and the brass candlesticks,
which glittered as if they were made
of gold; and then at the fire, the
great open chimney-place, the blaz-
ing logs, THE funny shaped andirons
with round heads, and the great NAL
tese cat, asleep on the gaudy rag
rug. Was it all true, or were they
ufealHlHS
But when it came to hot waffies,
and maple molasses, cookies with
fennelseeds in them, and milk-just
as mich as they could drink, out of
those dear, little antique mugs-the
children decided the matter in their
own minds that they were not dream
ing at all. And after they had gone
to sleep, in bedroom just off the
kitchen, where the sheets smelled of
sweet clover, and the walls were COW
cred with punches of cabbage roses,
with impossible green leaves and blue
ribbons filled around the stems, Mrs.
Walter Robbins found courage to
thank the friends who had been so
good to her in her necessity.
''But there's something 1 haven't
told you yet,'' she said timidly. 81
couldn't write it, because | did not
know it myself when / appealed to
you. [ am not so poor as every one
thought. Poor, dear Walters min