St. Landry democrat. (Opelousas, La.) 1878-1894, 1889-10-12
idy.

That was what we all called her, though
her real name was Elizabeth or some other
name so much too large for her that
never heard it often enough to be sure
what it wss She lived just across the
road from the school house. and though
less than five years old, came to school be-
cause Clair, her bTother-older-wa too
bashful to come alone.
Her parents were hard working farmers
well known in the neighborhood as John
and 'Moliie" even by their own little ones,
of whom there were five, Clair and Tidy
being the two oldest. 1t sounded strangely
enough to hear Tidy ask to go over to
Moiie's to get piece" at recess. always
sent them home as soon as | was through
with them for the halliday, but one fore
noon they came back at once because, as
Tidy explained, 'Mollie's mopping."
AS oldest daughter little Tidy, with her
bright eyes and sweet baby face, began to
show some little tho lghtful, wo,uanly
ways. Once when called to see her mother
she was sitting on the floor amusing tn e
baby before | left he fell asleep leaning
against her, and there she sat patiently
waiting with her arm around the little fell
low to keep him from falling, until her
mother noticed them and put the baby in
his crib
AS soon as she learned that she must not
talk aloud in school she never made me
any trouble. She was so bright and active,
SO winning and pretty, too, that she was a
great pet. She would fit from one big
girl to another as still as mouse and al
ways sure of welcome, never firing of
finding in their various books the letter S
she knew. | am sure it is pleasure to
them now, as it is to me, to think that We
helped to Eli her baby life with the petting
and attention she must often have gone
without in the crowded busy home.
| had little time to spare to her, but
used TO let her cone to me several times a
day for few minutes, with any books she
CHANGED to have, SIS often history or
grammar as anything else, and sit on my
lap and tell me what letters she could.
once when | offered to take her up as
usual to read soon after recess, instead of
springing to her place she hung back, say
ing softly, 81 guess I'd better stand down
this time, my feet's muddy"
Sometimes she came to ne with an old
primer, whose simple lessons she partly
read and partly repeated from memory so
fast and so energetically that unless l
watched her closely she would have the
whole school laughing. She read the lit
tie piece that ends, 1.-The cat is on my new
fur cap. Get off, old cat" saying in her
quick, eager way, "Get off'n that, you old
Cat p
She would spring into my lap as lightly
as bird, and was SO small and slight and
sat so still, that scarcely felt her weight,
and | often held her when | could be
seated at my work She soon learned
this, and when tired of the others would
come to me and modestly ask, please
may sit ON your lap little bit ?"
Perhaps these memories of her are made
more tender and almost sacred becase her
little life ended so soon. | nevsr saw her
after that winter. The next summer she
fell and broke her arm. Not long after it
was well-and very patient she was while
it was healing, they told me-she with
three Others OF tie little brothers and sis
ters sickened with dipntberia and died,
one after another.
Although it seems very hard when we
think of the poor, overworked mother
in her loneliness. to me it seems more
fitting, and more pleasant too, to think
of Tidy in her sweetness and baby beauty,
taken away from all the hardshipS
life must surely have brought her.
growing still purer and fairer in another
part of "Our Fathers House. p azeNs
Steoens Sharp, Humboldt, la.