Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1888-11-02
MISS BECKY'S HOME.

MlSS BECkIS hUME.
Mss Becky was going to the
\ Old Ladies' Home at last. 1t was
a sorry fact, but there was nothing
else for her to do, it seemed. Who
would think of offering any other
home for a poor, almost helpless
cid woman, who had outlived her
usefulness? Having passed her
days in other peoples houses, so
to speak, she might not mind it as
much, perhaps, as a more fortunate
being.
eyes, she said, "there's a vacan.
CIV in the Old Ladies' Home, and
the hundred dollars that Parson
Amory left me Will pay my way in,
but it wouldn't last long if l began
to spend it, you know, and l shall
have a warm bed and my regular
meals without worrying about
where the next ones coming from.
Pm most tired worrying about
ways and means. Seems as though
had been about it all my life
ever since father was taken down
with heart disease hearing the
class in algebra. Now that the
rheumatism has got the better of
me, so that l can't work in cold
weather, and the doctor says it'll
draw my fingers so that can't use
them soon, it doesn't seem as if
there was anything left for me in
this world but the Home-and l
ought to be thankful for that"
Miss Becky had had other ex-
pectations in her heyday, when
young Larry Rogers met her and
carried her basket; when his
strong arm padded her down the
broad river to church on Sunday
mornings; when they sang to.
gether in the choir from the same
hymn book when they loitered
homeward in the fragrant summer
dusk, and heard the whip. poor-will
complain and startled the fre-fies
IN the hedges as they brushed by.
1t sometimes seemed to Miss
Becky as if all this had happened
In another planet. She was young
then, with bloom on her cheek
but although the rheu matism had
bent her figure and rendered her
more or less hopeless at times, yet
her dark, yelvety eyes looked out
like soft stars, and the ghost Of a
dimple still flickered on her cheek
and chin in spite of her sixty odd
years. Miss Beckys father had
been the district school teacher in
those far.off days of her girlhood.
he had taught her the simple lore
at his command, but it was Larry
Rogers who had taught her music
hour after hour in the empty school
house; they had practiced together
while he wrote the score on the
blackboard.
But all this had not sufiiced TO
enable her to earn a livelihood. Her
education, musical and otherwise,
had stopped short of any CONNER
cial value. In those days she never
expected to earn her living by the
sweat of her brow. Larry was
going 20 give her everything. How
trivial the little quarrel seemed
to day which circumvented this
1nal resolve of his J But what
magnitude il bad assumed at the
time! On his return from a trip
TO a heighborlng city, some busy.
body had whispered to Larry that
Miss Becky had been seen driving
with Squire Eustis' son Sam behind
his trotters. Sam was just home
from college, harum-scarum fel.
low, they said, who made love right
and left and gambled bit; and
when Larry reproached her with it
she had not demed; she had sim
ply said; "What thenl If you
choose to listen to gossip rather
than wait till you"
ID "But you didn't tell me, and I've
been here a week."
81 had forgotten all about it till
you reminded me-" SAID Becky.
| n Sits such an everyday affair for
you to drive with Sam Eustis "
which incredulity SO stung Becky
that she would not condescend to
explain that sue had carried some
ncedlework up to Squire Eustis',
which she had been doing for his
wife, and that as she left TO walk
home sam was Just starting of
with bis smart chaise and new
dapple grays, and the Squire bad
said, 'epAko Miss Becky home,
Sam, and show Ber their PAGES y
and how she had been ashamed 10
refuse their kindness, although
preferring to walk a thousand
times. and how. once in the cbaise.