Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1891-12-10
ASA GRAIN OF MUSTARD SEED
BY AN OLD CONTRIBUTOR.

! lamps.
There is no light in fathers window,
she thought. Or, at least, none but
the faint shine of the fire. Father is
getting more absent minded than ever
TO forget to light the gas
She smiled to herself as, with hel
little key, she opened the door, on
which glimmered the white painted
sign, departments to Let,' and has.
tened in. ...
S,be Simmons sat before the fire
staring in the bed Of dying GOALS
Rachael went up to him, and placing
, one hand un his shoulder, leaned down
to kiss hlm. 'Thee's tired to night
father, dear she said. cheerily. Thee
hasn't lighted the gas, and LOOK how
low the fire is.
Friend Stba rubbed his hands togeth.
er ncrvously.
Yes, am tired, Rachael, he SAID
but thee has not guessed right, after
all. The gas is not lighted because the
gas man has turned it of. Hush ]
don t blame the man. He only dit his
duty
Rachel colored.
We are behind only Il quarter she
said
The destr action of the poor is their
poverty, quoted Friend Seba. Hast
thee any candles in the house daugh-
ter
i can run to the corner store for a
pound, father.
Thee mad BETTER And while thee is
about it, Rachel. order pail of coal.
| put on the last at 3 o'clock.
Poor father murmured Rachel, as
he FASTENED on her erranl
Goals SAID the fat proprietor, and
candles, Simmons, ell? There's nine
dollars against them on the books, Da-
vid, Better shut down on that sort Of
thing
oh, ! guess it will 10 no harm to go
a little further, sir, said cheerful David
Pos ley, tall, rosy checked young man.
They're very nice people; and III See
that you re none the worse at the year s
end
Going security for 'em, eh ? said the
grocer, Struggling his fat shoulders.
We'll, it's more than would be willing
to do
'l1ow's the father. Rachel:' DAVID
Postley asked, as he rolled the candles
up In piece Of brown paper more care,
fully than he would have done for an
ordinary customer.
Hes pretty well, thank thee. DA-
yid,' shyIy answered the pretty Quak-
eress.
What did he finally conclude to do
about that offer of Carson's today?
What offer? Rachel asked in Sur.
prise.
Hasn't he told you? Carson, the
real estate agent, was around to see
him. and offered him nine thousand
dollars cash down for that old house
you live in.'
Rachel took up her packet of candles
IN Il conf Used way as a new customer
advanced to the counter. and followed
by lad bearing the pail Of Goals, left
the store.
Father, she cried, as she hurried IN
to the house, and lighting one of the
candies, sent the errand boy back with
his empty pail, what is that about an
offer of nine thousand dollars ior this
house? Did thee refuse it?'
Yes, Rachel, admitted Friend Seba.
But will tell thee, daughter, why l
would not sell this place to Lyman
Carson. He wants it to establrsbIhead
quarters for a National Lottery. 1t is
conveniently close to the corner, and
they need a building such as this could
be altered into.
But if we sell it, father, 1t is nothing
to us what use is made Of 1t afterwards,
pleaded Rachel. I'VE are not the peo-
pie who open the lottery. Lotteries
are-well, not quite right, perhaps, but
if they don t buy our house, they will
buy some one else's. And we need the
money so much. We are so poor, faith.
er'
Rachel! My Little Girl
! Rachel had buried. her face in hen
hands. The next instant she flung botf
her arms around her fathers neck with
burst of tears.
/ know it! she sobbed. Thee il
right, father; thee is always right. Il
would have been wicked and slntu