Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1888-06-02


Doris, to FIX over my black Henrietta.
cloth? p said Mrs. Gillespie, interroga-
lively.
Doris nodded gaily. She was in a mood
to promise anything.
Here, Doris, You might just as well
take a couple of these mince turnovers
with you. They'll keep nicely till Sun
day."
Doris thanked her. and stepped out into
the cold, cloudy night. She passed slowly
by the old brown house which had attract
ed her attention the evening before. II
wonder if it is dark enough vet ?" she said,
as she fingered in the shadow of an old
elm that stood close by the sidewalk. The
house seemed gloomy and silent as on the
preceding night.
1T wont get any darker if / wait till mid
night, because the moon will be up soon.
/ must do it now or never"
These mysterious words implied no
scheme of burglary or arson, though the
dressmaker's actions verged on breaking
and entering" She glided to the door and
noisely tried it.
With the usual "depravity of inanimate
objects" 1t gave a treacherous squeak as
Doris turned the knob, and she fled pre-
cipitately, but not until she had dropped
far into the hallway small, fat, white en-
velope superscribed to
"EBEN DOOLITTLE,
From Friend and Brother"
Luckily no one was stirring on that quiet
street, and when Doris was far enough
from the brown house she resumed her or
binary gait Though walking with out
ward calmness, there was turmoil under
her brown cloth jacket She felt like one
who has burned his ships behind him
and for what?
To crafty sentimental fancy and to
prepare for herself still longer years of toll
and selfdenial Yet how she exulted in
the thought. "He will get upon his feet
again and prosper-and he will owe it all
to me and never know"
Two weeks later Reedville was set agog
by the news that Eben Doolittle, after a
rapid recovery, had settled up his de6ts
and gone West to make investments which
promised to be very profitable.
"Must ha' he'd a legacy or somethin',"
said one old crone to another.
Borried from Peter to pay Paul, most
likely" was the answer.
Sometime after Eben left Reedville, Do
ris Hilburn's right arm became helpless
from rheumatism. She did up her bit of
| house work, but cutting and sewing were
out of the question.
Then Doris, with rather grim smile,
sat down before her kitchen fire with a bit
of memorandum book on her knee, and
pencil in her left hand
| I'd bo ;o++oJ H.,
some items and gazed at them stonily.
"One-fourth of sack of flour-enough
for three bakings, if can manage to work
dough with one hand
Two quarts OF beans, half a paper of
oatmeal and ten pint milk tickets.
Six quarts of potatoes, Stump of
dried beef, sugar-bowl nearly full, four
or five drawings of tea.
"One barrel of coal enough to last ten
days. and old shingles enough in the back
yard to keep me from freezing when the
Goals gone.
No rent to pay, and sixty-two cents
coming to me from Aunt Finney.
Not such desperate showing after all.
! Maybe my arm will be well before every
scrap is eaten"
Then she laughed till the tears came.
Everybody will say, How lucky that
Doris has money in the savings bank. She
can live on the interest while she is dis
abled.'"
In point of fact, that is substantially
what everybody did say and Doris smiled
her little grim smile, and measured her
potatoes and -four for each day, and doled
out her coal-so much for the morning, so
much for the highland was ready, for
every Joy, to clap her hands if one had not
been helpless. Eben Doolittle, prosperous,
had almost passed out Of her life except as
a vague, somewhat pensive memory-Eben
Doolittle, sick, forlorn and in debt, called
back all the old affection, added to a mater
nal pity and yearning.
And, day by day, the potatoes dwindled
and the flour grew less, while the crippled
hand became no better. At last the final
morsel of food had disappeared, and Doris
scraped the coal barrel with her left hand
81 have the shingles to fall back on"
she said. ats lucky dried a good pile
of them in the oven while the coal fire
lasted"
The day after she had eaten her last sau-
| Ger of oatmeal she did not feel so brisk and
so independent of physical limitations If
''out of the abundance of the heart the
mouth speaketh," it is no less true that
"out of the emptiness Of the stomach the
thought uttereth ITSELF"
know Eve been what the people call
born FOOL but | said l would take the
risk. If | die Eben will never know why.
He viii come and drop few tears on my
grave, likely, and remind himself of the
pleasant walks and talks we used to have
before the trouble came between us. And
how the neighbors will exclaim and CON
lecture when they find / have withdrawn
my bank deposit. They will search every
hole and corner in the house for my hid
den cash, and finally bury me at town ex-
pense. Well, | shall never know it."
But Doris did not die. She lived a dav
and half without food, because she was
! too proud to run into any of her neigh
boris houses in q sociable way for cup of
tea.
Toward the END Of the second dav Mrs.
Gillespie opened the kitchen door, and
/ found Doris weak and shivering in her lit
tie bedroom debating within herself wheth-
/ er she should make a friendly visit to Ann
| Finney, her next neighbor, where she
would be sure of hearty welcome, warmth
anu supper.
"Why, Doris Hilburn, your fire is as
dead as Julius Cesar, and YOU look as if
you were going to have fever. What
ever in this world possesses you to keep so
at home? l meant to send Sarah Jane
down to ask you to spend tomorrow with
US, then, on second thought, concluded to
come myself"
Doris smiled faint smile of welcome.
and rose feebly to start fire with the next
days share of shingles.
Pm not quite so clipper to-day" she
said, drawing forth her little rocking chair
for her caller "Guess l shall be all right
to-mor-" She didn't finish the word, but
staggered and fell forward into Mrs. Gill
lespie's arms.
That good lady put her back to bed. pur-
sued the usual course in cases of fainting,
then said, Now lie still, Doris, and III
! light the fire for YOU