The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-03-28

that we are able to take care of you,' the
manner being anything but kindly and in
Yiting.
'e"That I do, indeed with a steady,
low, tense voice and taking step toward
them-'but l have been made welcome
here and here | shall remain. The dread
OF going to the poorhouse has hung over
me for years as the terrible alternative OF
living in my daughters house, and know
ing that my daughters did not want me
there. Indeed, L know quite we'll that you
are able to take care of me, but when nave
you allowed day to pass that you have
not given me to understand that was q
burden to you? What did you expect?
Where was 1 to go? Did you imagine that
l would live on always that way? Wen,
you are rid of me. | hope you may be sat
isied. [ am certain that l shall be hap
pier. [ have taken the step; l am in the
poorhouse, where you have sent me.
the end of my days. You may go home
with the knowledge that l shall no more
spend my nights in weeping as did when
under the roof of my ungrateful daughters.
l am glad that you came, so that these
people may know how wicked you have
been, and to what they are indebted for
my coming here
with this the little woman turned and,
without waiting for their answer, although
they began at once to protest, went back
to her room. The daughters made long
defense, of course, charging their mother
| with imaginary sights that never were in
| tended, and all that. They wanted to fol-
! low and entreat her, but | refused to allow
it. They finally went away, declaring that
! they were sure she would soon be willing
to return to them. But she never has. Not
| only that, but she refuses to accept the
| clothes and other things which they would
! be glad to supply her with, and seems
whether or not she really is-perfectly con-
tent with her sewing, at which she is
| always busy Hers is by no means the
only case of that kind that is here.
But we had quite a different situation
not long ago, with much the same lyle OF
! characters, as one might say, of a play.
Think of a woman designed as an inmate
! to a poorhouse being brought here in a
carriage. She was just such a trim little
| body as is the other, having a rich Irish
! brogue, though. and keen, alert manner.
| | was not in at the moment of her arrival,
| and the knowledge of the carriage came
| later. They brought her up the front way,
turned her over to some of the attendants,
| patted her on the shoulder, fused about a
! little and went away. When | arrived on
the scene the little woman was Just begin
! ming to get hysterical. The two women
who brought her here were relatives, near
/ or distant and they had represented to her
that they were taking her to a hospital.
She had Just begun to realize THAT there
had been some deception, and she turned
defantly to me to know what this place
was. told her as soothingly as l could.
"She made bound past me, and, like q
14year-old girl, dashed down the hallway
and through screen door without stop
ping and out upon the portico. The range
of wooded hills that form the horizon i'm
! pressed her instantly, no doubt with the
sense of being far from home. On the
half-mie of road that may be seen from
where she was even the dust had settled
behind the carriage that was gone She
took i'll the scene and the impression that
went with it in just an instant, and wheel
ing round ran back and threw herself
PROSTATE on the floor of the hail, and
while kicking her heels, now like nine
year-old girl uttered the most piercing
screams had to remain with her almost
all that night. 1t was a long time before
she would listen to me at all.
Look at me, l said. DO | look as
though l would harm you? L am your
friend and mean to help you
cat last when somewhat exhausted she
did look at me and mutual confidence was
established. The next morning some other
relative came to the office to make inqui-
ries about the old lady, evidently being
uneasy about the transaction, but she got
away too before | saw her. | learned her
name, however, visited her at very COM
Portable home on Eddy street, and the next
day she came and took her away. As she
went, full of resentment to her relatives,
upon whom she really had claim to take
care of her and with the intention, no
doubt, of making it hot for them, she
turned to me and in her rich brogue ex-
claimed: "Indade, Mrs. Weaver, the worst
that may be said about this place is the
name of it."