Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1893-01-27

fill il as she would. That was the Sc
cret she was whispering over and over.
on her way down the hillside. The
children should be in the home At last
and they should be hers, her adopted
children, to care for, work for, love
and pray over. A branch brushed her
head once. and swept off her hat and
let her hair loose. She had to stop and
twist it up. 1t was abundant still, but
there were threads of gray among the
brown, and Onner smiled little sadly.
They'll be growing up to take care
of me, too; for I'm aging l can't deny
Il; IA growing old. or will be toe
SOON" she whispered, softly.
She knew what she was going for
now. A neighbor had stopped at her
gate that very morning while she was
busy in the garden.
Heard the news, Onner?"
No; what is it?''
at the Hollow"
you don't say Anybody hurt?'
"Yes, three men killed. Two of them
don't know about. The other one
was Tom Shannon"
tom Shannon! What, Roxy's hus-
band?"
''For sure. Isn't it dreadful? and
Roxy not dead three months yet; and
those three children left without father
or mother"
Haven't they anybody"
''They say not Roxy was an only
child, you know, and Toms sister died
out in California, and his brother, dear
knows what's become of him. Miss
Marsh was telling me they're real
pretty children, and good and quiet
too. They're good stock, you know.
Why, TOMS father was n deacon, and
Roxy's folks had q minister among
them somewhere. All the same,
they're left now. But must GO The
dinner neverll get itself into my
kettle, though it seems to in some
folks. Come aud see me, Onner, do"
She was off; and Onner, who had had
hard work 20 keep her smiles hidden by
her sunbonnet, marched straight up to
her open kitchen door, and on into the
pantry, where she kneeled down by
the flour barrel and just cried out: 30
Lord, make me worthy. I'm not half
good enough to take care of the poor
orphans; but just let me have them,
and make me worthy"
Then she went up the short stairs.
There was little room that the sit.
ting room pipe went through. That
must be the boys room, and she raised
the white curtain, picked stray leaf
from the yellow-painted floor, and
looked about.
II hope he'll be a good boy" she said
aloud
Below, there were two small rooms
opening from that same living room.
One was her own, the other must be
for her little girls 81 can hear them
then if they're croopy at night, and it'll
be so handy when they have the
whooping- cough and the measles. I'll
go out and pick lot more sage, too;
all of them will want sight for their
colds, and then the turkey, too,
at Thanksgiving. I'm glad saved a lot
of pennyroyal in the time of it I'll
get a piece of bright calico and CHEEKY
up things here for them. Dear hearts,
ser rs if couldn't wait"
You know now her errand, and the
secret Jacob was wondering over.
\ half mile before it reached the lit.
tie village, the road was crossed by Q
railroad track, and Billy. having re.
membranes of former experience.
there, began to prick up his ears and
quite affect coltish ways.
'Guess I'll stop at Uncle Silas' and
see if it's about car-time," said Miss
Onner, and turned up short lane to .
tiny house where "Uncle Silas," o
broken-down lay-preacher. lived with
his good wife. Once there it was easy
to see there was trouble, for the worthy
couple were both in tears and only toe
glad to unburden themselves.
"You see," said Auntie Silas, ''the
town isn't willing to give us outside
help any more, and we can't get along
without; SO they say we must come
into that noisy Mill Falls, and they'll
give US places in the Home"
''Well, it looks pleasant there" said
Miss Onner.
"Oh, it's all nice enough, too nice. in
fact. You see / used to take butter
there, and / know all about it, but
'tisn't home-like, the rooms are dread
full high, and they're white as ice; and
the beds, no patchwork there; every
things so dreadfully smooth and shiny.
But could stand all that if they'd only
let Silas and me stay together"
"Why, can't you?"
''No, not a bit He's got to sit on q
bench one side of the wall and l the
other; and in the house, Sundays in
church, we can look at one another, and
Wednesday afternoon we can visit, just
like other folks-and after I've cared
for and nursed him forty-five years,
just as well as / know how. It's dread
ful-dreadfulr' and the quiet, hopeless
tears of the aged saint coursed down
the worn cheeks again.
'It's the Lords ordering, Onner, and
ma and | mustn't say word against
it," the old man interrupted, with quav-
ering voice, land ma, she doesn't mean
anything against Him. Only after
forty-fve years of getting along to-
gether through ups and downs, it seems
little strange to think of a high
brick wall being between us. But it
can't get between our hearts, can it,
ma? not u bit, not bit"
''Wen, haven't heard the Lord or
dering any such thing yet" said Miss
Onner, land didn't suppose there were
men mean enough to do it."
But it is no worse than what's hap
pened to Lucy Whitton, went on Uncle
Silas.
whats that?"
she's gone to the pcorhouse. You
see she hadn't any friends as we have
torget her into the Home"
Lucy Whittonl Old Squire Whit
tons daughterp'
Eyes; the old squire didn't think,
when he took some rather hard ways
to get his money, that his only child
would get cheated out of the whole and
go to poorhouse."
''She never shalll' said Miss Onner,
rising.
"They took her yesterday. She
stopped here 4 minute, and il woa't
last long, Miss Onner. She looked then
like one struck with death. She'll
soon be free"
well, I'm not going to be one TO as
sist in the murder" Miss Onner re-
marked, drawing on her gloves. And
you, too, Uncle Silas. don't believe
90 Z. ! 4, |.n.I