The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1895-08-03

looked down at the smallest one of
them, still trying to stand the clothes
pins round the edge of the big bright
pan. She was improving steadily.
Let's see-to-morrow-day after
day after that. Then she was going.
1t would be new world opening sud-
denly to her, and she shut her eyes
to dream the wonderful dreams more
uninterruptedly. Ever since she had
drummed baby tunes on the tin cake
box, by the hour at time, she had
been growing hungrier to learn to
materialize the untamed melodies
that ran riot in her mind, and made
her fingers Jingle with impotent long
ing. And now it was coming-her
chancel Three days away! But as
the three days came and went Helen's
visions grew more clouded and over
cast with secret misgivings. She
found herself worrying for fear Ma
hala would not remember some OF
the little trivial comforts she herself
had taken such delight in remember
ing for Motherdie. And there were
the baby's soft little shoes that need
ed patching, and Harry's trousers,
and the dish-towels were in dire need
of replenishment. If she only had a
dozen hands these last days, and
dozen times a dozen hours to use
them! Her heart misgave her I'M
comfortably. But they wanted her
to go-of course it was just right.
Nevertheless, her face grew sober and
thoughtful, and something tugged
distressingly at her heart strings.
The day after, and the day after
that came. Helen kissed her mother
over and over, and hugge1 the little
Arabs fercely, and went away. The
houses and people on the way to the
depot danced about dizzily in mist,
and she felt dizzy and topsy -turvy in
acute sympathy with them. Her
father walked beside her, talking
briskly and constantly. Roy walked
on ahead with her valise and umbrel-
la, and never once looked around.
Helen watched him through the same
confusing mist, and his straight, slim
little figure was oddly contorted. He
had never looked bow-legged before,
Helen thought in dismay
The train pulled in and pulled out
again, with little maid, stricken
with sudden, overwhelming forlorn-
ness, in the corner of one of it's seats.
A plump benign-looking old lady sat
just behind her, and watched her
with curious sympathy. The baby
wo seats ahead leaned over toward
her insinuatingly, and made her think
of the baby and the clothes-pins.
Mahala would never remember the
clothes pins-never! And she had
forgotten Harry's patch, that she
meant to see to last night surely.
Mahala'd forget that, too. Helen
started involuntarily to her feet.
"What is it, dearies You forgot
somethin's" The plump old lady
leaned ahead and touched her arm in
friendly solicitude.
"Yes. oh yes! l forgot the patches
on Harry's pants" Helen lamented,
"and the baby's clothes-pins."
"Oh lor, dearie, never mind-never
mind! Patches amt nothin' much
nor clothes pins neither. Pm comm
over and set with you: Iguess you're
sorter humsick, amt youi I've got
some pep'mints in my bag. I'm 60
ing to see if can't chirk you up"
Helen moved her umbrella and
hand satchel, and made room for her
new neighbor. The arrangement had
its immediate good effects. Somehow
the little old lady reminded her of
Mahala though Mahala was angular
and tall and wore steel-bowed specta
cles; but she always associated Mahala
and pepermints together-perhaps
that was the reason. Anyway, if Ma
hala was as kind and thoughtful as
this plump old lady, why need she be
anxious and troubleds Helen was
young, and travelling was delightful
novelty. She grew cheerful and chat
ty, and parted with her new friend at
the junction with real sorrow. There
was nearly an hour to wait at the
Junction. Her train met the down
train home there, she remembered,
and she might send postal back.
But when she began to write, all the
old misgivings and conscience twitch-
ings surged upon her. She felt self
ish and cruel and wicked. What
business had she running away from
home, where she belonged, taking
care of Motherdie and the baby and
the Arabsi They all needed her
thew all needed her. The words said