Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1891-08-27

carriage wheels over the blue gravel
| drive which led up to the portico.
1t was brilliant December day when
the young physician stood in the neat
ly-carpeted reception-room drawing on
| her fur gloves previous to entering her
neat phaeton once again, while she re-
iterated to the white-capped maid some
directions concerning old Ann Mud
gets rheumatism, when the matron
hurried in.
''Oh, beg your pardon, DR.. Clari-
mont" said she, "but clean forgot the
new old woman"
"The new old woman" repeated DR..
Mary, with smile.
THAT is,' exclaimed Mrs. Cunning
ham, ''she only came last night; a
quiet old soul, half blind, and quite
bad with the asthma Perhaps you'd
better just see her before you go. She
brought a card of admission from DIR.
Merton, the New York Clergyman, who
is one of our directors, you know. And
she seems a decent body enough"
So DR.. Mary went cheerfully into
the little brick-paved room with its
white pallet bed, cushioned rocking
chair and neatly-draped easement,
where sat n poor, little, shriveled-up
woman wrapped in 4 faded shawl
She looked timidly up as DIR. Mary
came in, from under the borders of her
cap.
"Tm poor body, miss" said she,
land I'm sensible I'm making a deal of
trouble in the world. But the Lord
don't always take us, miss, when we'd
like to CO."
''This is the DOCTOR" said Mrs. Cum
ningham.
The little woman would have risen
up to make a feeble courtesy, but DIR.
Mary motioned her to keep her seat.
what is your name?" said she, pleas
antly.
Louise NARROW, miss"
"Marlow? That is an unusual name,
isn't it?" said Mary Clarimont, coloring
in srlita of harsalf
"We're English, miss" said the old
woman, struggling bravely with her
asthma. There amt many of us in
this country. I've a son, miss, in the
law business, as any mother might be
proud Of
ga sonr' echoed Mrs. Cunningham;
''and you in the almshouse?"
Not that its his fault, ma'am," the
old creature made haste to explain.
''NIy son is to be married to a fine,
proud young lady, as is fit for any
prince in all the land. and of course he
can't be expected to burden himself
l., ~, Il I
"He says I'm to write and let him
know how get along, and if I'm sick
or anything he'll try to see me. 1 sewed
carpets until the asthma got hold of
me, and supported myself comfortably.
But, of course, couldn't lay up any
thing for rainy day-who could?
"And Henry couldn't help me, for
he's getting ready to be married, poor
lad! So l went to DIR. Merton and
asked him did he know any decent
place where an old woman like me
could end her days in peace. And he
gave me a card to come here and some
money to pay my travelling expenses
God bless him!-and here am"
Mary Clarimont listened quietly to
the garrulous tale, but the color varied
in her cheek more than once as she
stood there.
els your sons name Harry Marlow?''
she said, slowly and thoughtfully.
Eyes, miss, at your service" said the
old woman, with a duck of her white
capped head, which was meant to do
duty in place of the impossible cour-
tesy.
SIS he like this?'' said DIR. Mary. tax
ing photograph from her pocket.
The old woman, with trembling
hands, fitted on her iron bowed specta-
cles and looked at the picture, uttering
little cry of recognition
''Sure, miss, it is his own self" she
cried
''You are acquainted with him,
then?'
Somewhat" said DIR. Mary, COM
posedly, as she returned the photo
graph TO its place. "And now will
leave you something to relieve you Of
this difficulty in breathing"
But the old crone eyed her wistfully.
perhaps you know the young lady
my son is to marry?"
les, SdAu LII. NARY WEAbiAS oOHC-
thing in her prescription book. II have
seen her"
perhaps, miss faltered the. old
woman, ''you would give her my hum
BILE duty, ar& tell her would just like
to look at her for once and see what she
is like. There's no fearof my troubling
her, miss, for 1 mean to end my aays
here. But would like to see her just
once. And if 1t wouldn't be asking too
much. miss, would xQu please write 70