The people's journal. (Pickens, S.C.) 1891-1903, 1895-09-12
tanning herself. with her oVer-skir9'
gasped for breath.


gasped for breath.
Good gracious Amt I glad Johl
Dame can't see me now Ii an ole
woman nigh seventy didn't Walk OIL
Ike q voung gal Of sixteen, he'd bt
scared out Of his wits !"
After several minutes rest, she pur
sued her way at o more leisurely pace
| 1t was cooler which made 1T easier tC
walk. The post-otfce like many coun.
try postoffices occupied ono corner OF
@ store, and the postmaster passed out
weighed sugar as q private Individual.
Sometimes one-capacity got in the way
Of the other capacity, as tonight.
When Matildy Dune entered the door
several men were lounging on the
steps outside and more were distributed
about on the counter, barrels and
boxes inside. The postmaster himself
was in his private capacity, drawing
molasses in the far end of the store
lie glanced over his shoulder as she
entered, however, and nodded. Good
| evening, Miss Dame"
"Bill, just stop inside and hand her
letter out o box forty-three," he said
to one of the loungers.
Bill promptly obeyed. "a letter for
ye, Missis Dame"
But where's tho paper? Didu't
the paper come :" she inquired, finger
ing the envelope anxiously.
Didn't her paper come? ?" asked
the man. Amy of you got Misses
Danes paper ?" glancing about among
the loungers, many of whom were
devouring the news from papers the
postmaster had carefully slipped out
Of their wrappers and kindly loaned
them.
mo, her paper didn't come," the
postmaster answered, coming to the
front of the store and setting his pail
of molasses upon the counter. "There's
a lot of them didn't come this time"
"Johnll be so disappointed !" and
Matildv's voice quavered. "What do
you s'pose has happened? It's always
here regular Friday night"
"P'raps the letter tells something
about it" the man addressed as Bill
suggested.
The postmaster shook his head at
him over Matildy's shoulder, but the
words were said.
"Sure enough, maybe it does,"
Matildy said eagerly, amt no idea
who 1t can be from," and she uervously
tore Off one corner of the envelope.
Here, Mr.. Simmons, you read it to
NO." handing it to the postmaster.
s. | never brought my glasses"
It's addressed to Mister Dame,"
the postmaster hesitated. Maybe he
won't like it,"
John not like it--fudge !" said
Matildy. "Just read it, please"
The postmaster, still hesitating,
finished tearing the envelope across.
about the room, and began:
s. Mr. John Dame NIilburn Cantra
Dear Sir
He paused here, and glanced at Ma
tildy.
"Go on" she said impatiently. The
postmaster gulped something down in
his throat and continued his reading.
The task was evidently distasteful to
him. ,,r,,.
I'VE e-hag4.imat.yn"1f tba l"~
.tso,, :....so ju.U purcnased tho Brigh-
ton News of it's former owners, and are
going over our subscription list with
q view to retaining only those sub
scribers whose papers are paid to the
present year. We find your paper
owing for twenty years back, and have
same. Upon receipt Of
arrearage and one years subscription
in advance, we shall be pleased to put
your name again upon our list. We
cash basis, with pay in advance, in
all cases.
Yours truly,
The postmaster had read it slowly at
first, but rs he went on with the read.
ing, he hurried the words after one
another, so they were scarcely dis
But Matildy understood
what it all meant, even though she did
not catch all the words. Sne stood
there white and imnovable. Her thin
old face seemed suddenly frost-bitten,
as well-kept apple exposed to the
frost, with all it's little lines fixed and
For u moment she stood
silent, looking d. tue ,uovlnasOor, who
strove to gaze Off into infinity. Then
she said stittly:
"Thank you, Mr.. Simmons. Good
night to you all" including the several
loungers, who were listening pity
ingly.
"Heres the letter." and the post
master followed to the door handing it
to her.
Poor old soulp Completely exhaust
ed of mind and body she crept slowly
along muttering to herself broken sem
tenceI as she went.
The only pleasure John had In life
and that is taken away from him
What'll tell him? When he secs 1
haven't got it with me, he'll know
Is the matter, and 'twould
kill him to tell him. He's watched
for that paper every week for twenty
years now. and he's read it over and
over, advertise ements and all, until the
next one come. 0 John John
What'll you ever do without it" and
the despairing woman wrung her
hands as she sped along the darkening
road. The way had seemed 80 long
when coming, and now it was so short
in few moments the little old
house would be in sight, the gate would
click. and the helpless, patient figure
on the porch would eagerly stretch
out his white thin hands to her for
the paper, and she must disappOint
him. She stopped and waited, leaning
heavily against apile of wood that was
piled up along the road, she walked
slower and slower, she even turned
and rctraccd her steps, but the thought
that John would be worrying about
her, caused hor to turn back again.
She must go on and tell him some
thing. She braced herself for the
effort, and with every nerve strained,
hurried on.
M - ,s,no,, mn, ~ i+o fnl ito mallow