Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-03-08
CHAPTER XXI.

ling hopped to and fro on the sunny floor; the bees boomed in the porch; the tinkle of sheep's bells came in on the stiffness. All was peaceful and happy except the little weary, breaking, desolate heart that beat in her like caged birds
 He will come; 1 am sure he will come," she said to herself; but she was so tired, and it was so long-oh, dear God!-so very long. hand tapped at the lattice. The shrin voice of Reine, the sabot makers wife, broken with anguish, called through the hanging ivy:
 "Bebee, you are wicked one, they say, but the only one there is at home in the village this day Get you to town for the love of heaven, and send Dr. Max hither, for my pet, my flower, my child lies dying, and not a soul near, and she black as a coal with choking-go, go, go!-and Mary will forgive you your sins. Save the little one, dear Bebee do you hearl and will pray God and speak fair the neighbors for you. Cop
 Bebee rose up, startled by the now unfa- miliar sound of human voice, and looked at the breathless mother with eyes of pitying wonder.
 "Surely will go," she said, gently; "but
  sinned greatly-that know"
 Then she went out quickly and ran through the lanes and into the city for the sick child, and found the wise man, and sent him, and did the errand rather in sort of sorrowful sympathetic instinct than in any reasoning consciousness of doing good.
 When she was moving through the. once familiar and happy ways, as the sun was set ting on the golden fronts of the old houses and the chimes were ringing from the many towers, a strange sense of unreality, of non- existence, fell upon her.
 Could 1t be she-she, indeed, who had gone there the year before the gladdest thing that the earth bore, with no care except to shelter her flowers from the wind and keep the fresh est blossoms for the burgomaster's housewifei She did not think thus to herself; but a vague doubt that she could ever have been the little, gay, laborious, happy Bebee, with troops of friends and endless joys for every day that dawned, came over her as she went by the black front of the Broodhuis.
 The strong voice of Lisa, the fruit girl, jarred on her as she passed the stall under its yellow awning that was Tapping sullenly in the evening wind.
 "Oh, he, little fooll" the mocking voice cried ''The rind of the fine pine is full of pickles and stings the lips when the taste is gone, to be sure. Crack common nuts like me and you are never wanting-hazels grow free in every copse. Prut, tut! Your grand lover lies a-dying-so the students read out of this just now-and you such a simpleton as not to get roll of napoleons out of him be- fore be went to rot in Paris. I dare say he was poor sparrows, if one knew the truth. He was only painter after all"
 Lisa tossed her as she spoke torn sheet, in which she was wrapping gentians; it was a piece of newspaper some three weeks old, and in it there single line or so which said that the artist Flamen, whose Gretchen" was the wonder of the Salon of the year, lay sick unto death in his rooms in Paris.
 Bebee stood and read; the strong, ruddy western light upon the type, the taunting laughter of the fruit girl on her ear.
 A bitter shriek rang from her that made even the cruelty of Lisa's mirth stop in a sudden terror.
 She stood staring, like a thing changed to stone, down on the one name that to her filled all the universe.
 "In-he is ill-do you hear7" she echoed piteously, looking at Lisa; land you say he is poor?"
 "Poora for sure! is he not painter2" said the fruit girl, roughly. She judged by her own penniless student lads; and she was an gered with herself for feeling sorry for this
 
 "You have been bad and base to me; but now-I bless you, I love you, will pray for you," said Bebee, in a swift, broken breath, and with look upon her face that startled into pain her callous enemy.
 Then without another. word, she thrust the paper in her bosom, and ran out of the square breathless with haste and with a gre... re- solve.
 He was ill-and he was poorI The brave little soul of her leaped at once to action. He was sick, and far away, and poor, they said All danger and all difficulty faded to nothing before the vision of his need.
 Bebee was only little founding who ran about in wooden shoes; but she had the "dog's soul" in her-the soul that will follow faithfully though to receive a curse, that will defend Loyalty to meet blow, and that will die mutely loving to the last
 She went home, how she never knew; and without the delay of a moment packed up change of linen, and fed the fowls and took the key of the hut down to old Jehan's cabin The old man was only half witted by reason of his af1iction for his dead daughter, but he was shrewd enough to understand what she wanted of him, and honest enough to do 1t.
 "I am going into the city," she said to him 'and if am not back tonight, will you feed the starling and the hens. and water the flowers for me7'
 Old Jehan put his head out of his lattice; it was in the evening, and he was going to bed.
 ''What are you after, little onea" he asked {; "going to show the fine buckles at students balli Nay, fe-that is not like you"
 II am going to-pray-dear Jehan," she answered, with O sob in her throat, and the first falsehood she had ever told. Do what ask you-do, for your dead daughters sake -or the birds and the flowers will die of hunger and thirst. Take the key and prom ise me-"
 He took the key and promised.
 Do not let them see those buckles shine: they will rob you, !" he added.
 Bebee ran from him fast; every moment that was lost was so precious and so terrible. To pause a second for fears sake never oc- cured to her. She went forth as fearlessly as young swallow, born in northern April days, flies forth on instinct to new lands a..sl over unknown seas when autumn falls
 Necessity and action breathed new life into her. The hardy and brave peasant ways of her were awoke once more. She had been strong to wait silently with the young life in her dying out drop by drop in the heart