Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1895-11-08
RICHES HAVE WINGS.

J
thoroughly in harmony with the bright af-
ternoon. When she finished Smelling the
corn, she leaned back and looked about her
with a long sigh of content. She was
beauiy-loving girl, wise enough to see the
beauty in the common things about her;
and so, as she sat in the doorway, she APP
propriated to herself all the fairness of the
homely scene. 1t was late in October. The
long slant rays of the sun glorified the red
and gold of the maple trees, and made the
fallen leaves in the grass look like precious
stones on bed of green velvet. The creep
er that covered the back of the house glowed
crimson as the sunlight touched it, and 1t
brought out glints of gold in Alice's
tumbled brown hair, and touched Mother
C1eighton's pale face lovingly, as she sat
in her place at the window. 1t shone i'm
partially, too, on the geese, each one gray
and white counterpart of all the other elev-
en-; each standing on one leg, half asleep
in the pleasant warmth, near the red barn.
When, after long look at the rich colors
about her, Alice's eyes rested again on the
geese, they lost their dreamy look, and
sparkled merrily. "Only another month!
she said, laughing They little know
what that means to them-do they, moth
er?'
y o.
doors. "If they knew, should expect to
see them take wing and fly away
zone month more, benighted geese,
said Alice, with fine flourish of the corn
cobs, land you will be sizzling in twelve
different ovens, while | shall be counting
my ill-gotten gains" "Ten times day."
interrupted her mother, laughing, ian
dancing with Impotence for the first of
December and the drawing teacher TO ar
rive"
Mother Creighton was always CHEEKY
she had no right to be dreary, she said. If
she could do nothing TO help in the family
struggle, she could at least keep from max
ing it harder; and so she smiled when she
suffered, and was gay when the pain left
, her.
But she would never be able to walk
again-indeed, it was nearly a year, now,
since she had left her chair by the window
Father placed her there in the morning, and
lifted her back to her bed at night. Alice
had left school at the beginning of her
mothers illness, two years before and had
not gone back.
Even if she could have been spared at
home, Alice's father could not afford TO
keep her at the academy, with the added
expense of the mothers illness,
The Creightons owned their coy little
home; but they had suffered heavy losses,
and aside from the house and an acre of
ground about it, owned little else.
Father worked hard TO keep that, and
earned their simple living. Leaving school
did not seriously trouble Alice. They had
plenty of books in the little house, and she
and her mother could read together as
much as they wished. But she had one
,;ol, hos f,e1 ha
knew and shared but could not help.
From the time she had owned her first
slate and pencil, Alice had made pictures
She loved to draw, and she drew well
Her mother and teacher in school had
taught her all they could, and now she
wanted to know more. If she could only
study she felt that she could create some
of the beautiful pictures she loved TO dream
of.
Early that spring it had been announced
that good teacher in drawing would come
to the academy in the winter, and Alice
made up her mind TO take lessons of him
But how could she earn the money?
family council was held and it was decided
after much elaboration, that Alice SHOULD
raise geese to sell at Thanksgiving. sit i:
not dry enough here for turkeys" he
father had said, 'but that pond in the bacl
lot will be just the place for geese" AnC
so it was decided and with much counting
of chickens, or rather goslings, Alice haC
set an old hen on a dozen goose eggs anC
carefully tended her.
And when the twelve yellow gosling
were Matched they claimed still large
share of her care. She gave it ungrudg
ingly, looking forward to the time wheI
they would repay her.
AS she fed and tended them she Otter
made them serve her as models, and som,
quaint sketches of them decorated the sit
ting-room.
Now they were fine fat geese, and Alc,
sat in the door thinking what they would
do for her in one month more. As she sa
there she heard peculiar noise overhead
and, looking up, saw large flock of wilC
geese flying steadily southwark. Thei
queer "honk honkr floated down through
the quiet afternoon air.
"Oh, how wish that we could spread
our wings and sail away south, like that =
Alice said reflectively.
And then TO her geese, "You stupid crea
tures-why don't you join your fellows anC
go with them to seek the plashy brink o.
reedy lake, or marge of river WIDE instead
of staying here to be roasted? How low
they are fiying!" she added, looking at thu
wild geese, which were now just overhead
Their cries sounded more plainly, and she
turned in establishment at an answering
cry from the barn-yard. There was
strange commotion among her geese. 81
wonder if they recognize some distant rel,
atives," she said, laughing; but her laugh
gave way to CONSERVATION as she saw one
big fellow spread his wings and fly up to-
ward the wild geese. Another followed
and another and Alice seemed rooted tC
the doorstep as she tried to realize what il
meant. "Would they all go?' 1t seemed
so; for when she sprang up and called fran
tically-making the peculiar call she always
used at feeding-time, and scattering the
corn for them-they paid no attention to
her, but with harsh, strange cries rose to-
ward their new acquaintance, and clum-
silly, but swiftly, Joined them in the air.
She stood fixed to the spot, watching the
departing geese as if fascinated, while the
chickens flocked around her to pick up the
scattered corn.
1t had happened so quickly! Yet she
realized all it meant; no delightful lessons
no happy, busy winter; only the old hum
drum work-all her summers work lost
A flood of bitter, angry thoughts rushed
over her. She dared not turn and meet
her mothers eyes-not yet. At the thought
her mother, the angry thoughts fell back,
but the tears came, and that was almost as
bad. "Quickl Alice Creightonw she said
to herself, "you must turn round in a min