Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1889-05-04


The little tender, honest heart OF her wa
troubled and oppressed For once that night
she slept Ill
CHAPTER VI
All tho next day she sat under the yellow
awning. but she sat alone
1t was market day; there were many
strangers Flowers were In demand Tho
copper pieces were ringing against ono
another all the hours through In her leathern
bag The cobbler was In such good humor
that he forgot to quarrel with his wife The
fruit was In such plenty that they gave her .
leaf full Of white and red currants for her
monday dinner. And the people split their
sides at the Cheap Johns jokes; he was 90
droll No one saw the leaks In his kettles or the
hole In bis bellows, or tho leg that was lack
Ing in his milking stool
Everybody was gay and merry that day.
But Bebee's blue eyes looked wistfully over
tho throng, and did not find what they
sought Somehow tho day seemed dull, and
the square empty.
When the day was done Bebee gave quick
sigh as she looked across the square. She had
50 wanted to tell him that she wns not un-
grateful, and she had little moss rose ready,
with q sprig Of sweetbrier, and tiny spray
OF maiden hair fern that grew under the viii
lows, which she had kept covered up with Q
leaf Of sycamore all the day long
No one would have 1t now.
The child went out Of the place sadly, as the
carlton rang. There was only the moss rose
that had been given her for her dinner,
She went along the twisting. many colored,
quantity fashioned streets, till she came to the
water side.
Bebee was fond Of watching the brigs and
barges, that looked so big to her. with their
national flags flying, and their tall masts
standing thick as grass and their tawny sails
tapping In the wind, and nbou them the
sweet, strong smell Of that strange. unknown
thing, the sea.
But this dull day Bcbce did not go down
upon the wharf; she did not want tho sailors
tales; she saw the masts and bits of bunting
that streaned from them, and they made her
restless, which they had never done before.
Instead she went In at dark old door and
climbed up steep staircase that went up
and up, as though she were mounting st.
Gudule's belfry towers; and at the top Of II
entered little chamber in tho roof, where
one square unglazed hole that served for light
looked out upon the canal, with al it,
crowded craft, from the dainty schoonea
yacht, fresh as gliding and holystone could
make her, that was running for pleasure to
tho Scheldt, to the rude, clumsy coal barge,
black as night, that bore the rough diamonds
OF Belgium to the snow buried roofs Of Chris
tiania and Stromstad
In the little dark attic there was very
old woman In a red petticoat and high cap,
who sat against the window, and pricked out
lace patterns with pin on thick paper. She
was IS years old, and could hardly keep body
and soul together.
Bcbee, running to her, kissed her.
"Oh, mother AnneInie, look here! Beauti
ful red and white currants, and roll;
saved them for you. They are tho first cur
rants We have seen this year. Moi oh, for
me, have eaten more than are goodI You
know | pick fruit like a sparrow, always
Dear mother Annemie, are you betterI Are
you quito sure you are better todayf"
The little old withered woman, brown as u
walnut and meager as q rush, took the cur.
rants, and smiled with childish glee, ard
began to eat them, blessing tho child with
each crumb she broke oY tho bread.
"Why had you not grandmother Of your
own, my little oner sho mumbled. "How
good you would have been to her, Bebesi"
YES" said Bebee, seriously, but her mind
could not grasp the idea II was easier TOT
her to believe the fanciful lily parentage Of
Antoine's stories "How much work have
you done, Annemiei Oh, all thati AL that
But there is enough for week. You wori
too early and too late, you dear Annemie."
"Nay, Bebee, when one has to get oue't
bread that cannot be- But am afraid my
eyes are failing That rose, now. is it well
doneF
beautifully done. Would the Baes take
take them II they were noti You know he |,
ono that cuts every centime in four pieces"
"Ah! sharp enough, sharp enough-that il
true. But am always afraid OF my eyes.
do not see the flags out there SO well as used
to do"
Because the sun Is so bright. Armenia
that is all. ! myself, when | have been sit
ting all day In the Place In the light, the
flowers look pale to me. And you know 1t 4
not age with me- Annemie."
The old woman and the young girl laughed
together at that droll idea.
"You have a merry heart, dear little one, '
said old Annemie. "The saints keep 1t to you
always"
MAY tidy tho room littleT"
ITO be sure, dear, and thank you too.
have not much time, you see; and somehow
my back aches badly when stoop.n
"And It is SO damp here for you, over all
that waterl" said Bebee as she swept and
busted and set to rights the tiny place, and
put In a little broken pot a few sprays ci
honeysuckie and rosemary that she had
brought with her at is so damp here
You should have come and lived in my hui
with me, Annemie, and sat out under the vins
all day. and looked after the chickens fol
me when was In the town They are such
mischievous little souls. as soon as my bach
Is turned one or other is sure TO push
through tho roof, and get out among thu
nowerbedA Win you never change you
mind. and live With me. Annemiei am sure
you would he happy, and the starting say
your name quite plain, and he Is such funny
bird to talk 10. you never would tire Of him
VIII you never comet II Is SO bright there
and green and sweet smelling, and TO thinl
you never even have seen itl-and the swan.
and all-it is a shame"
"No DEAR said old Annemie, eating nel
last bunch of eurrants "You have said se
50 often, and you are good and mean II, thai
| know But ] could not leave the water. II
wouhI kilI me Out OF this window. you know
I saw any Jeannots brig go away--away
--aUav--fll tha ms n ware lfst IN, fba mica