The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1897-03-26
TOMS WIDOW.
by ANNA SHIELDS.

4nlls notice that tidy.
The tidy in question was a night
hare vision, combination of gaudy col
hrs never to be found excepting in those
horrors devised by the economical to
1se ND odds and ends" 1t was made
Il canvas, and bits of zephyr wool, left
from more ambitious pieces of work,
%,ere sewed in pell-mell, without regard
q color, in a set black that was
snough to set anybody's teeth on edge.
"Do-do you admire it?" asked,
FEARFUL of giving offense by plain speak
&hg.
The old lady took off her spectacles,
lined them, put them on again, leaned
or head on one side, and said, slowly
Ind gently, in voice mild as new milk:
"My dear, l think it's the most unut-
8erably hideous object ever beheld
II the whole 70 years of my life. No
Aodv could have made that tidy but
Toms widow"
"Oh!" l said, not knowing exactly
how to answer, for Mrs. Craige was al
most a stranger to me. My husband,
Who was missionary preacher, was
making a lecturing tour and Mrs.
Craige, an influential member of the
Eyanstown congregation, had invited
me to stay with her and rest from much
weary travel. l was soon made to feel
lit home in the dear old lady's motherly
care, but it is easily understood that
could know nothing of herself or her
heighbors and family excepting what
she chose to tell me.
"You do not know who Toms widow
was, my DEAR" she said, presently, as l
Stitched in respectful silence; show
Should you? Tom was my son; one of
my sons, should say, for had nine,
end four daughters, though you find me
Alone. Some are dead, some are mar
ried, but all who are living have their
bwn homes and families. Tom went to
California and started a business; he
married there, and when he died it was
natural for me to suppose that his
widow would remain in her own home.
among her own people. Tom was not
30 when he died, and knew she was
kery much younger. But one day when
j was grieving, as mothers will, my dear,
FOR my son, there walked in a little
mite of figure that should have taken
for child but for the heavy widows
hraperies. She came straight to me,
lifted her veil, and, looking out of a
pair of baby blue eyes straight into my
face, said:
"'I am Daisy, dear mother, Toms
widow. am all alone in the world, but
Tom said he was sure if came to you,
you would be good to me-
Il took her straight into my heart.
the little, winsome darling, and loved
her as my own. So, my dear, if l tell
you of my trials with her, do not think
it was from want of love-"
was sure it was not, for the dear old
lady's voice was full of tenderness.
ut WAS lonely for her for one thing"
said Mrs. Craige, "for her mourning,
and it was deep-hearted sorrow, kept
her secluded; and as there was no need
for her to employ herself usefully, she
began to plan delightful surprises for
me. She was possessed by very de-
mon for fancy work. While she eXer-
cised it upon sofa cushions and foot
stools with distorted dogs and dislo-
Gated cats embroidered in Berlin wool
upon them, l endured in patience, al
though my old-fashioned ideas were
certainly amazed at the sums Daisy
spent on materials. Tom had left her
well provided for, and as she had no ex-
|pense here, her pocket-money was a
very handsome income. AS l said, did
not object to the poor little lonely
Child taking all the pleasure she could
find in embroidering hideous designs
on canvas, and putting the results in
the most conspicuous places in the
house, but this mild form of her mania
scon gave place to the desire to ex-
Gel in every species of work that came
Up to waste the money and time Of
idle women. This old house, which was
IN my husbands family before the rev.
pution, is full of treasures endeared to
hs by age and association, and our
Sailors and travellers have added many
b relic to the ornaments and furniture.
he first piece of vandalism that was
expected to admire, and secretly
Froaned over, was the potichomanie
Transformation of a pair of Venetian
glass vases that my son Henry brought
rom Europe for me. They stood in
the spare room, and never was a serv-
Pnt allowed to touch them, the ex-
9uisite, fragile beauties! Imagine my
horror when Daisy exultantly led me
o the room and displayed her handi-
PORK. My lovely vases! Inside of each
me was pasted colored landscape cut
Prom paper, over which garland Of
leaves was varied by punches of grapes,
uTrants, cherries, flowers, birds and
butterflies. Then the inside was plas-
ered with blue paint. What was on my
tongue was never spoken, for the blue
yes danced with delight at my sup
posed pleasure, and how could l be
gross to Toms widow"
Gould you never get it off ?" asked,
pitifully.
Never. My vases were ruined. The
Pextr really dreadful deed, varied by atroc-
ties of minor Importance, was Daisy's
discovery of my great-grandmother's
Fedding-dress, white-brocaded satin
nat we cherished far more than any
I'D gold, but which Daisy ruthlessly
ut into pincushions, embroidering
zach one and producing them triumph
Rntly for Christmas surprise. The
g1rls were here-my girls-and my
SOnS and their wives and there arose