The Press., 1891-08-13
Number 20.

l oOA uuOluU. uAO plOW WOO So uuOA- pected that it seemed to paralyze her, for she dropped into chair and fairly gasped for breath. Her heart seemed to stand still, and hot thoughts burned in her brain.
 Mrs. Burchmore thoughtlessly added fuel to the flame by saying: "There, now you can give me the tray. You see, child, your ma was took down when you was about three years old, and it stands to reason that she can't hold out forever laying there in bed; why, it would use me up in a month."
 Maida rose and placed the tray before Mrs. Burchmore with trembling fingers, and then said, with little gasps: "You don't know, you can't know; mamma is perfectly we'll except walking, and she is lovely, so dear, she can not, must not die, and it is unkfnd of you to say so."
 Something seemed to say that she must not reproach woman so much older than herself, no matter how great the provoca- tion, and Maida burst from the room and threw herself down in the old settle which stood by the fireplace. It seemed to her that her heart must break; after a while she realized that the kitchen was too close and hot, and she must have freedom and air. She sprang up and faiily ran through the shed to the side entrance, which led out upon the meadow in the rear of the house. A tree had been cut down there, leaving stump which Lisha had used for cutting kindlings upon. She threw herself upon the ground and rested her head upon it.
 If this dreadful thing was true, what was life worth to her?
 Not once had death been mentioned to her concerning her mother. It had been an unwritten law in the household, that only cheerful subjects should be mention ed, for mammals sake. In church, at family prayers, even in school, Maida, had thought of death without one pang of fear for herself; but for her mother it had been impossible. All her joyous life had been filled with mother-love, and now she must think of losing it. It seemed to her for time that she almost hated the wo- man who had first mentioned such pain full possibility.
 But she was not a girl to indulge long in the luxury of woe; and through all this first real grief of her life, she remem- bered that the birds kept singing over her head. She had just wiped away the tears, l ba for ha loo ct boys voice called out, not loudly, but tenderly:
 "What's wrong, Miss Maida? Has mother been cross ?"
 It was Lisha. He had brought up some turnips for the store-room, and it did not take him long to discover the disconso- late figure near the back door. He had received good many seedlings, and not a few beatings in his short life, and had never made complaint. He had inwardly resolved, however, that no child of his, If he should have ever so many in the dim and distant future, should be beaten-as no wise farmer would ever beat high spirited colt. He was genuinely angry, now, to see this little lady, who had come to act as sweet sister of mercy in the house, weeping, and doubtless with good reason. He repeated his question before
 Maida knew just what to say.
 "I hope mother has not been cross,
 Miss Maida ?"
 "No, oh, no! only I am very foolish, } and indeed it did hurt to have her speak so of mamma"
 Maida's lips quivered. The sight ot that pitiful face, with the large eyes over flowing with tears, was more than the
 manly boy could endure.
 "See here, Miss Maida," he said, as he looked upon her still crouching figure
 "you have been as good as gold to us , coming down here and doing the work O l scullery mafd; and if there has beer < anything said to hurt yonr feelings, please
 tell me. I'm not the fellow to find faul 3 with my sick mother, if she is out of sol ts . but right is right, and there is not living n soul can say anything of your mother Onl.
 that she is 8 patient, noble saint, ant = worth dozen of the big, browsy womel @ we meet"
 D Maida's face frightened. A tear-drol S that had been rolling down one cheek d was arrested on its way, and caught in
 deep dimple, and the rosy lips below part !, ed to say, "Oh, thank you, Lisha, thanl v you; and you don't think she will die be S fore grow up to be woman, do you ?'' s Mercy, no! Miss Maida; what pu b, such notion into your head? She
 likely to outlive ns both, and wish W o had more women like her. Was that a n that made you cry?" J. Almost all," said Maida, trying har
 to forget. "I don't think your mothe 7, meant all she said, but the Blessed'-yo a said 1t first when baby-she is so dea
 to us all; everything, and-and-" Maid e paused to swallow huge sob before sh
 added, "and it would kill me to have any D thing happen to mamma. must see he d dear face morning and night"
 ,"You will" said Lisha, with the ul 1t daunted faith of boyhood. "You will SC le 1t. Your ma is delicate in some ways an l, strong in others Don't you remember tt D. queer old proverb, that a creaking gat
 hangs long?' It is not pretty one, but Id is true. Grandma told me that, and sf It used to add how true it was; for stron ,s men would die long before their delica, B. wives. Don't worry about your ma, she IS doing too much good to be spared"
 Maida's face became radiant, and Lish Ia with the tact of courier, added, ''No, d kind little housekeeper, the men are COT ,nI ing up to dinner, and know, you ha' I cooked the chickens I dressed for yo Id and I hope the new maid will get ov Olnoyr xsrhar uAsr