Southern standard. (McMinnville, Tenn.) 1879-current, 1890-06-14

|
sure tear trembled on her eyelid as
she bent her white head an unneces-
sary length of time over her drawer.
She felt hurt-I know she did. She
was not vain old lady, but her tastes
were nice, and she knew as well as
any of us younger ones that her bon>
net had lost its freshness.
Grandma took her knitting pres
emily and seated herself by the south
window in her armchair. AS /
watched her / fell to wondering if
her thoughts were going back just
now over the years to the time when
Aunt Maria was baby. They were
poor then, and had heard Grandma
tell how she did her own work, and
made shirts for several families to
help make the ends meet. Was
she recalling how she sat up nights
and sewed to earn money enough to
buy cunning little white hood,
made of satin and swans down for
her little girl? Or did she remember
how many weary stitches it took to
earn that fine broad-brimmed straw
hat trimmed with white ribbon that
her thirteen-year-old daughter might
be "like other girls?" Perhaps her
mind dwelt on story she had often
told me; how, when Aunt Maria was
nineteen, there came an invitation for
her to go to Boston and spend a
month.
"Maria felt bad," Grandma's story
ran, because she thought her hat
wasn't fit to wear. l had a bonnet
made of a handsome piece of velvet
that my brother sent me from Paris.
just slipped upstairs and ripped that
bonnet up, then 1 got your grand
father to take me to town. l bad
some money had been saving up a
good while to buy me new bomba-
zine dress, but | thought cheaper
one would do just as well; so just
took some of that money and went
to the best milliner in town. bought
a long black feather-I knew Maria
liked 'em-and l told her to make
me hat fit to be seen in Boston. /
never let on to anybody what I'd
done. But you ought to "a seen Ma
ria when that hat came home. If
she wasn't happy! 1t was beauty.
The long black feather curled around
her goldy hair, and just touched her
shoulder. In front there was a little
white tuft, with some tall birds O.
paradise feathers waving in it. The
milliner said it needed that, so | got
it besides. You've no idea how hand
some she looked, and | enjoyed that
hat forty times better than when !
had it for mine"
: Was grandma thinking: "And yet
Maria begrudges me little new rib
bon for my bonnet, as well off as she
, is, too !" If any such thoughts dis.
turbed her, they did not appear on
her placid face as she patiently knit.
ted on. 1t was only a fortnight from
: that day, and we gathered again in
Grandma's room. There was nc
merry talk, There was that strange
hush which but one presence brings,
; broken only by low sad strains OF
music, and words Of consolation
spoken in subdued tones.
Grandma slept peacefully. There
fingered on her dear face the light Of
the parting smile she had given us al
parting. Fair flowers were all about
t her, and l noticed, as l bent over hel
for the last time, how pure and fresh
the white ribbon was which tied hel
: cap, and then with a pang remem.
! bered her old bonnet strings. Deal
Grandma, she had gone where gar
, ments are without spot or wrinkle
How she would enjoy the white raj
ment, purity, the unchanging fresh
ness Of the heavenly land
We all loved Grandma dearly, fol
time it seemed as if we could no
go on without her. One day, to
wards evening, a longing seized me tC
look once more into Grandma's room;
so went across the street, and stole
!, around to the side door which opened
directly into her room. 1t was aial
and l stepped softly in. Grandma,
) armchair-empty !-stood by the
window. leaned over it, trying tC
picture her as l had seen her so offer
sitting at dusk humming her favoritt
, hymn, "Sun of my soul, thou Saviour
, dear" But the sound of sObbinl
reached my ear, and looking up saw
= in the shadows al tho further ond n