The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1895-05-04
S|BHE EAlNlEYT E70Iy\E

her. WE'LL" with a tremble in her
voice, eff l had it to do over again I'm
free to confess I'd do different by
Susan Petit"
With another huge sob Mrs. Brew
ster covered her face with her hands
and cried.
"All the time that woman's lived
here amongst us, "she presently began,
give had it on my mind that when /
got round to it'd try to make things
a little easier and pleasanter for her.
How long is it since she comet"
six or seven years, / guess"
Eyes. And there was some of us
that felt to lay it up agen her that
she waz niece to old Jacob Hart that
was always suspected of that mort
gage fraud. And when she came
here to take care of him when he was
dying, and then lived on in that little
mite of a house he'd left her, why-if
haven't done a neighbours part by
her, which 1 haven't-may the Lord
forgive mel"
"You needn't talk" said Miss
Abigail. "Many and many's the time
I've went by there and see her sittin'
alone lookin' out in such kind of a
pitiful way-like she was longin' for
someone to come in and be a little
sociable with her. I thought hadn't
time, and I hadn't-much-but l
might "a made time and been none
the worse for it. o me! 1t was an
opportunity, and now it's gone from
me. She was stranger, and didn't
take her in"
Left to herself an hour later Mrs.
Brewster sat face to face with her
lost opportunity, and with every
thought the sting of self-reproach
grew deeper.
"She was so poor, and 1 didn't hold
out hand to her. | might have
stopped for her as l drove by to
church, when 1 knew she was often
kept to home by her lameness. I
meant to send her apples and things
and l didn't. l thought sometimes
of sending her my religious paper
when I'd done reading it-and 1 let
the time slip"
There was a SILVER of excitement
as Miss Abigail Meeker pressed
through the village on her way home,
telling her startling news.
Does any life go out among us
poor, careless procrastinators that we
without leaving behind its train
of bitter thought of what we might
have done and did not do7 OF the
words which might have been spoken
to ears now closed, of acts which
might have brought comfort and
cheer? May we be pitied in our ach-
ing for sound from dumb lips in
acknowledgment of blessing which
should have been bestowed-in our
craving for time, time, time in which
to do the thousand and one things
which never now can be done!
More than one turned with dim
ming eyes toward the window from
which the patient face had looked
out.
81 meant to carry some O. them
flower seeds to her. She'd "a liked
'em-she set such store by flowers"
81 could "a stopped and ploughed
up her bit of a garden just as we'll as
not"
"Why didn't I invite her to my
quiltin 7"
II might" 81 could have" 81
meant to" 81 wish I had" "Why
didn't Ia"
Miss Susan Petit was brought
home to the little house for the flu
neral. Crushed and broken = the
plain, sealed coffin borne reverently
among those to whom the awful thing
came as the excitement of a lifetime.
Hysterical sobs and wailing were
heard as flowers were piled over the
still form.
81 didn't bring one of 'em," said
Mrs. Brewster, pointing to them in
half indignant agitation.
mo, / didn't. I've read a piece of
poetry about layin' flowers on folkses'
graves = and" Mrs. Brewster
choked-"never layin' deeds of loving
kindness onto their lives. And-have
you read the piece about her in the
paper9 All about the sweetness and
lovelinessi Queer, haint't it," with
gasping laugh, shat nobody never
seemed to find it out till. No-you
don't catch me carryin' flowers to her
grave. They might "a comforted her
livin'."
The house was shut and locked
after the funeral, it's closed blinds
4 ~