The Bennington banner. [volume] (Bennington, Vt.) 1858-1894, 1891-08-28
A POOR RELATION,

guess"
Mrs. Pond was frying doughnuts at the
kitchen stove, her dress turned up il
front, and big blue bingham apron GOV
ering it. She turned around when En-
incline spoke, and went to the window
the lOng-handled iron fork she had beer
using still in her hand. Emmeline was
hem-stitching bureau scarf, but she
laid it down to look out.
A little old woman in black calico
dress, a rusty black shawl and an ole
straw bonnet, was coming down the
country road. Her scanty skirts tapped
in the wine, and her face was purple with
cold. The bare hands holding the shaw
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 En-.
incline again.
Emmeline put the bureau-scarf on the
window-seat 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 relation,
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 doughnuts into it one
by one, as she picked them with the long
fork from the boiling lard. II expect
there was good many there"
Aunt Eunice shook her head. She had
taken 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 expect
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, 1
s'pose! 'Twouldn't seem like home ter
we nowhere else, ye lived with Mis- Jen-
kins so long"
The old woman drew long breath
that was almost sigh. "They amt got
room for me-" she said slowly. "There's
eight children"
An expression of annoyance crossed
Mrs. Ponds face. Her lips frightened in
way they had whenever she was vexed
Seems if Mis- Jenkins oughter left
you somethin', bein' as you'd lived with
her so long" she said, presently.
'She didn't hev nothin' tew leave
only the furnitoor. Tim Jenkins, he
took tibet; the team come for it just as
the funeral was a-movin' out"
'Well, s'pose you've looked out for
another placer" said Mrs. Pond. She
had fried the last of the doughnuts, and
was taking the kettle off the stove.
The old woman did not answer imme-
diately. Her faded blue eyes were star
ing straight before her at the shining
stove; her brown knotted hands were
outstretched to the friendly warmth.
There was tremulous movement to her
lower lip for moment before she spoke.
Eyes I've been round" she said; "but
faint so easy gettin' place when a
body's old; m I've worked so hard all
my life, Pm kinder worn out. And Pm
laid mp considerable with the rheumatic,
too, off n on
Still we got a place, s'posem
''MIis' Saunders, she said she'd take
me. She won't give me no wages,
though, m I'd hev ter do the milkin'."
She spoke in a slow, lifeless voice as if
tired out. Emmeline, looking at her,
thought what sorry thing it was to
old and friendless and poor.
mis- Saunders!' she exclaimed. 81
wouldn't live with her for fifty dollars a
month m do nothin'. Folks say you
can hear her scold mile off; m she's
never satisfied, no matter what's done
for her. That's the reason she cam keep
help; they just won't stay to be quar-
relied at. You'd have an awful hard time
there, Aunt Eunice.'
"Most everything's hard-for some
folks" said old Eunice, after a pause.
"An' it's either Mis- Saunders or Silas
Howe's place." .
Again Mrs. Ponds lips frightened. She
paused in her work of washing the sink
to look around at the old woman by the
stove.
"Then let it be Mis- Saunders" she
said. "Anything's better'n the poor
house, seems ter me-"
II amt settled on nothin' yit," said
old Eunice, rising stiffly.
"Goin'?' inquired Mrs. Pond
yes; jest stopped by ter warm. It's
kinder blustery out, m got chilled
through"
"There!" said Mrs. Pond, as the door
closed on the old woman, and her foot
steps were heard in the crunching snow
of the path around around the house. 81
declare! never thought to offer Aunt
Eunice a nut-cake."
81 guess she wouldn't have cared for
it," said Emmeline. cts awful, amt
it, mother, to think of her going to the
poorhUuse%
"Thats the worst o. poor relations"
said Mrs. Pond, little irritably. Eye