The Portland daily press., 1888-05-19
the old clock began to tell the hour of twelve

the old clock began to tell the hour OF twelve
with ieisurely whirring strokes.
Sister Binson laid aside her work, and rose
quickly and went to the cupboard. WED
better take little to eat" she explained
"The night will 60 fast after this. want to
know If you went and made some O. your
nice curcake, while you was home to-day
she asked in pleased tone; and Mrs. Grove
acknowledged such gratifying piece OF
thoughtfulness for this humble friend who
denied herself all luxuries. Sarah Ann
brewed generous cup Of tea, and the watch
ers drew their chairs up to the table present.
", and quelled their hunger with good coun-
try appetites. Sister Binson put a spoon in
to small, old-fashioned glass of preserved
ounce and passed it to her friend. She was
most familiar with the house and played the
part of hostess. ''Spread some O. this on
your bread and butter,' she said to Mrs.
Grove. ''Tempy wanted me to use some
three or four times, but l never felt to. l
know she'd like to have us comfortable now,
and would urge us to make good supper,
poor dear"
"What excellent preserves she did make"
mourned Mrs. Grove. None of us has got
her light hand at doin' things tasty. She
made the most o. everything, too. Now she
only had that one ounce tree down in the far
corner of the piece, but she'd go out in the
spring and tend to it, and look at it so pleas
ant, and kind of expect the old thorny thing
into bloomin,"
"She was just the same with folks said
Sarah Ann. "And she'd never git more'n a
little apernful O. ounces. but she'd have
every mite of goodness out O. those, and set
the glasses up onto her restroom closet
shelf, so pleased. 'Twa'n't but week ago
tomorrow mornin' | fetched her a little
taste O. jelly in a teaspoon. She took it, an
the minute she tasted it she looked up at
me as worried as could be. ooh, don't
want to eat that says she. 4 always
| keep that in case o. Sickness You're
| goin' to have the good o one tumbler
yourself, says l. I'D just like to know
who's sick now, if you amt! An she
couldn't help laughin, spoke up SO smart.
Oh, dear me, how shall miss talkin' over
things with herl She always sensed things,
and got just the pint you meant"
"She didn't begin to age until two or three
| years ago, did she?" asked Mrs. Grove. Il
never saw anybody keep her looks as Tenn
py did. She looked young long after begun
to feel like an old woman. The doctor used
to say it was her young heart, and don't
| know but what he was right. How she did
| do for other folks! There was one spell she
wasn't at home day to fortnight. She
| got most OF her Twin so, and that made her
own potatoes and things last her through.
None O. the young folks could get married
| without her, and all the old enes was disap-
| pointed if she want round when they was
| down with sickness and had to CO. An
| cleanin or tailorin' fer boys, or rug-hookin'
| there was nothin' but what she could do as
handy as most 4 do love to work'-ain't
| you heard her say that twenty times week ?''
Sarah Ann Binson nodded, and began to
| clear away the empty plates. I'VE may
| want q taste O. somethin' more towards
mornin'," she said. There's plenty in the
| closet here; and in case some comes from a
distance to the funeral, Wen have little
| table spread after we get back to the house"
"Yes, was busy all the mornin'. I've
| cooked up a sight O. things to bring over,
| said Mrs. Grove. 81 felt twas the last
| could do for her."
They drew their chairs near the stove
| again, and took up their work. Sister Bin
| sons rockingham creaked as she rocked /;
| the brook sounded louder than ever. 1t was
more lonely when nobody spoke. and pres
| emily Mrs. Grove returned to her thoughts
| of growing old.
Eyes, Tempy aged all of sudden. / re-
member Iasked her if she felt as well as
| common, one day, and she laughed at me
good. There, when Daniel begun to look
old, couldn't help feeling as if somethin'
allied him, and like as not twas somethin' he
was goin' to git right over, and dosed him
| for it stiddy half of one summer"
"How many things we shall he wanting to
ask Tempy!' exclaimed Sarah Ann Binson,
after long pause. II can't make up my
mind to doin' without her. l wish folks
could come back just once and tell us how
tits where they've gone. Seems then we
could do without 'em better"
The brook hurried on, the wind blew about
| the house now and then; the house itself was
SILENT and the supper, the warm fire, and an
absence of any new topics for conversation
made the watchers drowsy. Sister Binson
closed her eyes first to rest then for min
ute; and Mrs. Grove glanced at her compass
sionately. with new sympathy for the hard
worked little woman. She made up her
mind to let Sarah Ann have good rest,
while she kept watch alone; but in few
minutes her own knitting was dropped, and
she, too, fell asleep. Overhead, the pale
shape of Tempy Dent, the outworn body Of
| that generous, loving-hearted, simple soul,
slept on also in its white raiment Perhaps
| Tempy herself stood near, and saw her own
| life and its surroundings with new under.
| standing. Perhaps she herself was the only
| watcher.
Later, by some hours, Sarah Ann Binson
| woke with start. There was a pale light
| of dawn outside the small windows. Inside
the kitchen the lamp burned DIM Mrs.
| Grove awoke, too.
II think Tempy'd be the first to say twas
| just as well we both had some rest" she
said, not without guilty feeling
Her companion went to the outer door,
and opened it wide. The fresh air was none
too cold, and the brooks voice was not near
| ly so loud as it had been in the midnight
darkness. She could see the shapes of the
hills, and the great shadows that lay across
the lower country. The east was fast
growing bright.
"'Twill be beautiful day for the funer-
al" she said, and turned again, with sigh,
to follow Mrs. Grove up the stairs. The
world seemed more empty without the kind
face and helpful hands of Tempy Dent.