The Laurens advertiser. (Laurens, S.C.) 1885-1973, 1895-12-24

month ago, I've fecl kind o. old ar
no account myself, as IL I'd like to le
all hoits go, am jest rest. l dom
spunk up like / ust to. No, he didn'
go To Peterson's--he's GAVIN right on
My land | / wonder Z Il amt oil,
Gran'ma Eliot; she had u hard spell
no, he didn't turn that corner. L cam
think where he's goin' top
She sat down with q sigh Of defeat
A smile glimmered palely acros
Emarine's face and was gone. May
be II you'd go up in the attic 20,
could see better, che suggested, dryly
oh, Emarine, here comes ole
Gran'ma Eliot herselfl Run an oper
the door fer'er. She's limpin' worse'r
usual.n
Emarine fiew to the door. Grand
ma Eliot was one of the few people
she loved. She was large and mother
iy. She wore q black dress and shaw
and a funny bonnet, with frill d
white lace around her brow.
Emarine's face softened when she
kissed her. Pm 80 glad to see you,
she said, and her voice was tender.
Even Mrs. Endey's face underwent q
change. Usually 1t wore look OF
doubt, IL not Of positive suspicion, but
now 1t fairly beamed. She shook
hands cordially with the guest and led
her to u comfortable chair.
81 know your rheumatic ,is worse y
she said, cheerfully, "because you're
limpin' so. Oh, did you see the Under
taker go up by here? We can't think
where he's goin' to. D. you happen to
know"
mo, don't; an 1 don't want to,
neither" Mrs. Eliot laughed COM
fortably. "Mis' Endey, you don't
ketch me foolin' with undertakers till
| have to-" She sat down and removed
her black cotton gloves. "pm
gettin' to that age when don't caro-
much whore undertakers go to so long
/ g they let me alone. Ffxin' fer Christ
mas dinner, Emarine. dearP"
Yes, ma'am," said Emarine, in her
very gcntlest tone. Her mother had
never said "dear" to her, and the
sound of it on this old lady's lips was
sweet. Won't you come and take
The old lady laughed merrily.
"Oh, dearie me, dearie me You
don't guess my sons folks could spare
me now, you? spend ev'ry Christ
mas thu >. They most carry me on
two chips. My sons wife, Sidonie,
she nearly runs her feet off waitin' on
me. She can't do enough fer me. My,
A1'o tIboOJ, yoo NOu huOW "ndU ~
comfort daughtor-in- law Is when you
get old an feeble !"
Emarine's face turned red. She
went to the table and stood with her
back to the older women; but her
mothers sharp eyes observed that her
ears grew scarlet.
An never will" said Mrs. Endey
grimly.
You've got a son-in-law, though,
who's worth whole townful of most
sons-in-law. He was such good son,
too; jest worshiped his mother;
couldn't bear her out of his sight. He
humored her high and low. That's
jest the way Sidonie does with me.
Pm gettin' cranky 3 get older, an
sometimes I'm real cross an sassy to
her; but she jest laffs at me, an then
comes an kisses me, an Pm all right
ag'in.. It's blessin right from God
to have daughter-in-law like that"
The knife in Emarines hand slipped,
and she uttered little cry.
Hurt you?" demanded her mother,
sternly.
Emarine was silent, ana did not
turn.
"Cut you, EmarineP Why don't
you answer me? Aigh ?"
GA littlc," said Emarine She went
into the pantry, and presently return
ed with a narrow strip Of muslin which
she wound around her finger.
!" Well, never see You never will
learn any gumption? Why don't you
look what you're aoout? Now, go
around Christmas with your finger all
tied upw
"Oh, that'll be all right by to-mor-
row." said Mrs. Eliot, cheerfully.
"Won't it, Emarine? Never cry over
split milk, Mrs. Endey; it ma&es
body get wrinkles too fast. o. course
Orville's mothers comm to take din
ner with you, Emarine."
Dear me !" exclaimed Emarine, in
q sudden autter. 81 don't see why
them cranberries don't come told
Orville to hurry 'em up 70 q best make
the ffoatin' island while I wait"
Il stopped at Orville's mothers as I
came along, Emarine."
How?" Ema.ine turned in startled
way from the table.
II say stopped at Orville's moth era
as ! came along"
"She well ?" asked Mrs. Endey.
"No. she amt; shakin' like she had
the Saint Vitus dance. She failed hor-
eyes was oil swelled up"
There was quite a silence Then
Mrs. Endey said, What she ben
cryin' about?"
"Why, when I asked her she jest
laffed kind O. pitiful, an said: 'Oh,
only my tomfoolishness, O. course
Said she always got to thinkin' about
other Christmases. But l cheered
her up. told her what good time
| always had at my sons, an how
Sidonie jest couldn't do enough fer
me. An / told her to think what
nice time she'd have here It Emarine's
tomorrow"
Mrs. Endey smiled. "What she say
to that 2"
"She didn't say much. I could see
she was thankful, though, she had o
sons to go to. She said she pitied all
poor wretches that had to set out their
Christmas alone. Poor old lady ! she
amt got much spunk left. She's all
broke down. But 1 cheered her up
some. Sech wishful look took holt
O. her whom pictchered her dinner
| over here at Emarine's. | can't seem
f, to forget it. Goodness 1 must go.
Pm on my way to Sidonies, an she'll
be comm after me IL amt on time"
When Mrs. Eliot had gone limping
down the path, Mrs. Endey said !;
"You got your front room red up,
Emarine ?"
mo; amt had time to red up any
thing"
"Well, I'll do it. Where's your
duster at ?"