The herald., 1896-12-20

! That was all. A simple letter. surely
A mere business statement and propo-
sition. But-but-there was not pen
ny in the house and-and-Jeanie was
burning with fever, and had begged all
night for just one orange! 1t had been
promised when the money for the funny
story came, the story that was already
sold, as she had supposed. This had
come instead, and Jeanie was burning
with thirst. A simple thing, surely.
| Well, something must be done. Dis
cover new vein of humor." Any vein
of humor was such an easy thing now.
| What was humor, anyway? Something 6
| tangible. hammerable? Something that
one could pound into the shape of a
laugh? What was a laugh? When had
she ever heard one? What was a smile
like? Surely not like that wan ghost
| lowering over the parched lips of the
| little sufferer, as she said, bravely: Il
don't mind much now, mamma, l can
wait just as we'll as not"
II can't write anything funny any
more" cried the heartbroken mother.
| "The springs are all dried up. I'll just
write and tell him so.'
| Selling her pen, she wrote:
Dear Sir: You are right, perhaps,
in saying l have lost what ability for
| humor l once possessed. This last at
! tempt was like dance of death. wrote
|
| is i'll with fever-alone-at midnight
with no food but dry bread in the house
no medicine, not even the cooling dew
| of the one sweet orange she craved to
moisten my darling's lips. Is it any
wonder my humor was forced? Very
respectfully
| "I-I-don't mean to beg, but perhaps
| he will send Jeanie some oranges"
All day she moistened Jeanies parched
| lips with water and soothed her with
| promises of the oranges that were sure
| to come. The patient little sufferers S
i faint smiles and mute appeals were like
! dagger to the mothers heart. But
/ the oranges did not come.
When the twilight crept into the room
she grew desperate.
Lie still, Jeanne, I am going to get
| the oranges"
Then the money has come. I am so
glad" moaned the childish treble of the
voice that was fast growing fainter
| Quietly out of the house, keeping close
! to the shadows of the wall, out of the
notice of passers-by, the wan and silent
| figure moved until she reached fruit
stand where, heaped in golden pyfa-
mid, the oranges temptingly reposed
She glanced hurriedly up and down the
| street. No one was in sight. Quickly
| a thin white hand reached out, and theu
] turning. the ghostly figure fled as if a
| hundred demons were in close pursuit.
| Breathlessly she sped up the stairs.
Jeanie had fallen asleep. Beside the
bed the mother knelt and softly closed
the little waxen fingers around the or
| ange.
'She will be so glad when she wakes, :"
| sobbed the painting mother. Long by
the blackened embers of the once bright
| fire she sat thinking, thinking. She did
not know that she had not tasted food
in twenty four hours She did not know
that she was tired and overworked.
She only knew that she must think
think-think out some new way to be
funny! Out of the hard, dry facts
about her she must evolve the wit which,
| IL 1t be true, Ia SO evaneseent and always
| springs from the spontaneous apprecia-
| tion of all that Is light, airy and cheerful!
She must do this-laugh and be merry
| oh. so merry-or she and Jeanie would
starve! Truly, 1t was easy to discover
that new vein of humor! Morning stole
| upon her, as it always steals, let the
night be sad or merry, and a knock at
| the door reused her from the reverie
out of which, alas! she had not yet
| evolved a new way to be funny!
Here's a basket Mr. Blank sent
Fam, with oranges for the little girl,
and he says have you any more funny
| stories"
Oranges? For Jeanie? oh yes, 1
remember. Thank you SO much. Here
Jeanie-Jeanie-oh, my God. she is dead
Have any funny stories? Yes-there