The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1889-08-18

time openly took his mothers side, when
his ignorance of the matters in ques ton
made him unjust.
Hannah's pretty, girlish freshness seemed
to be fading. Ann Parish herself grew thin
ner. and quicker and more convlcting in
manner; there was little laughter or cheer
fulness in the comfortable farmhouse, and
so the rainy September weather went on.
Dams mother felt herself increasingly to
be pitied. Dams wife lost heart and gained
hopefulness. If she only knew what to do!
But she was sure that her mother-in-law
disliked her thoroughly, and that it was no
use to try any longer TO change a settled
feeling. She was still affectionately dis
posed, and was able to look at her house
mates sullen disposition as a malady and
misfortune. rather than a fauit; especially
tolerant and kindly. Somehow she cid not
feel well and strong. as she did when she
first came to the farm. She was full of
shivering weakness, and While she tried to
more incapable of steady hard work. Dan
said one day that she must not work so
hard. He was very good to her, and ten
der, and yet she felt a new dislike TO him,
or rather to his heavy boots and loud voice.
Her head was heavy and she could not
bear noises, and she was half afraid of
Dams mother. and startled when the quick,
severe little woman stepped forward sud
denly fOOm q doorway or closet. For many
days this grew worse and worse; she be-
1 lieved that she had caught a heavy cold;
she was flushed, and hot, and lOnged to
creep away somewhere into the dark. One
morning after breakfast she tried to make
her bed and could not, and lay down for a
minute to gather strength. One verse of an
old hymn drifted through her mind. poor
child; she had often heard 1t sung at even
ing meetings:
Jesus, the sinners friend, to thee,
Lost and undone, for aid I flee;
Weary of earth. myself and sin,
Open Thine arms and take me IN.
voice from the Kitchen, your breads all
| scorched! / never burnt a baking of bread
in all the years l kept house." But
Hannah did not hurry dow to the scene of
bread; she could not lift her head from the
pillow. And when she tried to answer, she
found her voice fail her; she could not make
Dams mother hear.
In a few minutes the disturbed woman
came up to the bedroom. She did not sus-
pect Hannah of Indulging herself in a fit of
bad temper; it was rather from her habi of
curiosity and suspicion that she looked In
and saw a relaxed figure lying among the
rumpled bed-clOthes. annah family said
that her head ached badly, and she must
have taken more cold. She had not been
feeling well all the morning.
I've worked through a good many morn
ings when l was ready to drop" said Ann
Parish, but with less ungraciousness than
usual. She hesitated a minute, and then
pulled a blanket over her daughters
shoulders, and drew the window curtain SO
that the sun should not fare in; and then
went away. Dan had taken his dinner to
q distant field where he was at work.
Later in the afternoon he came to the
house, but found nobody in the Kitchen or
s~itting-rOOm. His mother was not in the
bedroom. and he thought that Hannah
might have gone to visit some of her
friends, which was a relief to his mind,
since he had been worrying about her all
day. He heard footsteps in the room over
head. which had been his sisters and
presently fOund his mother there, looking
over poor ELIAS bureau, signing over the
school-books and ~needlework and other
relics, as was her wont on Sundays and In
special times of depression.
Dan looked very tall and large in the bed
room with its sloping ceiling. His mother
sighed, but did not speak to him.
"Where's Hannah!" asked the young man.
"She complained of her cold the middle
of the morning, and I've just finished all
the work."
is she sick in bed." demanded Dan,
anxiOusly. and he gave his mother one
dark, reprOachful look and turned away.
The two friends who had Wake .lome
from church together that Sunday morning
after Hannah appeared q bride were again
in company another Sunday morning in
early October, and their voices had a solemn
tone.
Has the doctor give 'em any hope?' one
asked the other.
'He says it's q question of whether she's
got stren'th to pull through" was the an
swer. she's a dreadful sick woman. We
both know that as well as he does.i -,
Il see her this mOrnln 'arly, just lOokin'
through the door. an she's all gone to a
shadow o. what she was"
Its the worst run ~ fever that's ben
about here for yaars. Eve helped take care
of sights o sich folks, an | know. i'Tis a
narrow chance for pore hannah, dear, will
in, pleasant creature"
"My times past for watchin' with the
sick" said the other woman, plaintively.
The wust sorrow my years has brought
Is being useless now where | once could
do
Nobody amon'st us done her part more
generous" said the young woman. II
Seems if he couldn't hardly hold in from
crying the day through. Him an hanlah's
set the world by each other. an had to
work an wait q long spell afore twas so
Dan could feel at ease to marry. i always
mistrusted Ann Parish was more difficult
with her own folks than none of us ever
supposed. / don't believe but what she's
made it harder for Hannah than she likes
to think of now. She's u dreadful cornery
~person-the Kenways always was-and yet
pretty appearing, an smart as whips. l
never liked the look in Ann Parish's eye,
an yet can't say she ever gave me a mis-
in the Lords hands, And so the friends
parted.
The doctors gig went up to the lane day
after day in early morning and at night
fall. Dan and his mother looked years
older, and Hannah, burning with fever.
talked TO them with piteous unconscious
ness of their presence. She had not known
even Dan for a week. She begged over
and over that somebody would tell her
what she had lone TO make Mother Parish
hate her.
Il like Mother Parish; / wish could make
her like me-" she said once, in a grieved,
childish tone, looking up with her dull eyes
at the anxious woman herself. There was
nobody else in the room.
Poor darIin! j love you now if / never
did before. Oh, do get well. Hannah. Fve
always liked you better than [ could let
on!.' besought Ann Parish, with an out
burst of tears.
But Hannah did not understand. Moth
er Parish don't like me, Dan," she said,
sadly.
The homework was doubled, and the
farm work could not be neglected even
while the farms young mistress seemed
lingering on the threshold of deaths door.
Dams mother was OverwOrked; she had no
time to fret, scarcely to mourn. And how
she missed her daughters quick step and
willingness, and her interest in all the home
affairs.
Hannah used to sing a good deal about
her work in the days when she was first at
the farm.