The Globe-republican., 1890-03-26
A POOR RELATION.
Why Mrs. Pond Changed Her Mind
and Offered Her a Home.

"There's Aunt Eunice comm. mother.
On her way home from the funeral,
guess"
Mrs. Pond was frying dough-nuts at
the kitchen stove, her dress turned up
in front, and big blue gingham apron
covering it. She turned around when
Emmeline spoke. and went to the win
dow, the g-handled iron fork she had
been using still in her hand. Emmeline
was hem-stitching bureau scarf, but
she had laid it down to look out.
A little old woman in black calico
dress, rusty black shawl, and an old
straw bonnet was coming down the
country road. Her scanty skirts tapped
in the wind, and her face was purple
with the cold. The bare hands holding
the shawl together were purple too.
She nodded to Emmeline when she
reached the gate, but did not smile. Her
stiff fingers fumbled with the latch of
the gate some time before she could get
it open, and the old shawl blew away
from her bent shoulders; but she did not
look at Emmeline again.
Emmeline put the bureau scarf on the
windOwseat, and went to open the kitch-
EN- door. She didn't know exactly why
she did it; she had never been expected
to show Aunt Eunice any attention.
The old woman was only distant rela-
tive called aunt through courtesy.
jest back from Mis- Jenkins funeral,
amt yep said Mrs. Pond, holding the
-colander over the kettle on the stove
and dropping the crisp dough-nuts into
it one by one as she picked them with
the long fork from the boiling lard. Il
expect there was good many there"
Aunt Eunice shook her head. She
had taken a seat near the stove. and had
turned the front of her dress up over her
knees that the blaze might not fade it.
Emmeline could see her coarse gray
yarn stockings and worn shoes. One
of the shoes was laced with piece of
brown Irvine.
well, she never was any hand to
make friends. SO she couldn't really ex-
pect much of funeral" said Mrs.
Pond. who's goin' ter take the
house?"
Sam Tarbox: he's movin' in now"
You'll stay right along with them. !
:s'pose? 'Twouldn't seem like home ter
We nowhere else. We lived with Mis- Jen-
kins SO long"
The old woman drew long breath
that was almost a sigh. ''They 'ain't
got room for me-" she said slowly.
There's eight children"
An expression of annoyance crossed
Mrs. Ponds face. Her lips frightened in
a way they had whenever she was
vexed.
''Seem 3 if Mis- Jenkins oughter
left you somethin'. bein' as you'd lived
with her SO long" ske said. presently.
''She didn't hev nothin' ter leave
only the furnitoor. Tim jenkins, he
took tibet; the team come for it jest Is
the funeral was a-movin' out"
well, 'spose you've looked out for
another placer" said Mrs. Pond. She
had fried the last of the dough-nuts, and
was taking the kettle from the stove.
The old woman did not answer imme-
sdiately. Her faded blue eyes were star
ing straight before her At the shining
stove; her brown, knotted hands were
-out-stretched to the friendly warmth.
lower lip for a moment before she spoke
Yes. I've been round" she said; but
faint SO easy gettin' place when a
body gets old; n I've worked SO hard
all my life. I'm kinder wore out. And
I'm laid up constable with the rheama-
tiz too, of n on"
''Still. ye got place, s'pose?"
ssMis' Saunders, she said she'd take me.
She won't give no wages. though, n I'd
hev ter do the milkin'."
She spoke in a low, lifeless voice, as
If tired out Emmeline. looking at her.
tholght what a sorry thing it was to be
ola aad triendless and poor.