Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1894-07-20

Ou IO gum Ol1 w 1IdAOl'S'
eyes, said the lady.
''And they say that the baby amt SO
we'll.
"Yes, that's true too. It's been all
ing all summer. What did you wish?"
81 was thinkin,' - he said, ''that as
the whole transaction was business
one-that, now being as you're goin
away, and the baby's sick, mebbe as
you might be willin to sell. I'm ready
to give you yer price. y
Mrs Eustice was startled. She had
lamented that reckless squandering of
her money at the village auction more
than once; but, according to herself, she
was honest.
''You ought to see the poor little
thing" she said. Come, I'll show
her to you. -
Silently Sam Winters followed the
great lady to the nursery, where the
baby tossed in its little crib fShe's
had the best of DOCTORS, P" said Mrs. Eus-
tice, but don t believe anybody knows
what's the matter with her,
''I'll give you 81, 6oo," said the man
huskily.
"Oh, dear moi" cried the lady; "that
wouldn't be fair. Why, I doubt if she
lives till we return. I tell you what,
I'll take $500 if you are willing to run
the risk. It's outlandish, selling
baby; but, then, you know, I bought
her."
Winters counted out the money and
handed it over. He had not dared to
touch the baby that belonged to the
great lady, but after paying the $500
he stopped and patted the little flaming
face.
Down the richly carpeted steps,
through the broad hall, out into the park
and on along the pike fastened the man
with his precious bundle, his $500 baby.
He did not go to the blacksmith shop
or the bachelor quarters behind it, but
directly to that little whitewashed cot
tage where lived the old woman who
had been rescued from the poorhouse.
He went into the house and laid the
baby On the bed.
"Granny, he called softly, "Gran-
ny!''
She came in slowly from the kitchen,
shading her old eyes.
'tDon't you think you kin nurse a lit
tie baby till she's well?''
The old woman fell On her knees be-
side the bed, she gathered the baby
close in her arms, she swayed to and fro
as if she were rocking it. The apathy
had vanished from her face; it was as
glad as sunshine
cpl nuss her till she gifts well, - she
sobbed, cor we'll die together.
Six months had passed away. 1t was
on beautiful afternoon in the spring
time All the roses in Two Hills were
abloom. A carriage drawn by two
splendid bays came gathering up the
village street. The great people had re-
turned.
Sitting in the doorstep Of little
whitewashed cottage was small vel
low haired girl. She was swinging her
feet and singing at the top of her voice.
Above her the red roses trailed them
selves luxuriously.
The lady looked out and waved her
hand and smiled. The child stopped
singing and stared.
"She doesn't know me,' said the
great lady, with half sigh and a laugh.
But the yellow haired girl rose from
the doorstep with alacrity, ran into the
cottage and laid her head in the old
grandmother's lap, hiding her face.
''I'm g'anny's baby she sobbed.
The old woman heard the carriage
wheels and the gathering horses. She
passed her hand tenderly over the ruffled
yellow head.
eyes, deary," she said fondly, "and
her amt never goin to be sol no more. -
Washington Star.