The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1897-12-30

Dear Elaine:-I sent your birthday
present by express a day or two ago.
Hope you'll like it. Thought it safer
not to prepay the expressage. Hope
you are doing well. No news. All
send love. Hoping to hear from you
soon,
Your affectionate brother,
JOHN p. NELSON"
A cold perspiration broke out all
over her as she read. Suppose that ex-
press bill should be more than a dol
lar.
The night was long and wakeful,
but New Years morning dawned at
last, cold and gray and dreary. The
| eXpressman came bright and early,
with a big box and a charge of eighty
five cents, which she paid, thankful
that it was no more.
Doctor Nelson's suite OF rooms con-
sisted Of her Office, a sleeping-room,
and a little back room, hardly larger
than a good-sized closet, which she
used for storage, and where she pre-
pared her simple meals. She ate her
| breakfast in the office before Office
hours; her lunch and supper in her
chamber for fear of callers. The rooms
were prettily and tastefully fitted up,
and a marked contrast to the outside
| of the building. With a little more
money she might have been very
happy there.
Before getting breakfast she opened
the big box. 1t contained a beautiful
fur cape. She had needed and wanted
one, but she looked at it rather apathe-
| tically. She felt strangely weak and
| faint. When one considers that coffee
! bread and butter and an occasional
| egg had been her bill of fare for
week or so. it is not surprising. Any
! one who has tried that way of living
will readily understand the situation
and sympathize Win Elaine.
Finally she made her coffee, spread
little table neatly, toasted her bread,
and sat down to her simple meal.
! She tried to think of pleasant things;
to be thankful for shelter-for warmth;
| but she could cSly think of the past
with sadness, and of the future with
! increasing doubt and misgiving. Her
meagre fare reminded her by force of
contrast of the breakfast they used to
have in her old home in her fathers
| lifetime. She remembered that there
was often some homeless man or wo-
man invited to share the meal with
/ hot
! happy time. How incredible it would
have sounded then had some one said
that in the year of grace 1896, she, too,
would be fatherless, homeless and hun
cry.
The tears came to her eyes as she
pictured her fathers anguish could be
know how lonely, how utterly friend
less, she felt. All, how she hoped he
could not know! 1t would spoil even
heaven for him--the dear, loving
father, whose loss she could never
! cease to mourn. She felt that she could
not eat, after all; 30 she drank her cup
of coffee, lay down upon the couch, and
with her eyes fixed upon the new cape
fell into a state of dreamy apathy.
1T must have cost at least seventy
five dollars" she found herself think
| ing.
She glanced at diamond ring upon
her finger-another of Johns gifts. A
new fur cape, diamonds, and only fif-
teen cents to buy dinner! She laugh
ed in weak, hysterical fashion as the
grim sarcasm Of the situation occurred
to her, and then relapsed into her list
less musing, forgetting the untouched
breakfast and the lapse of time, al
though the clock struck eight and then
the half-hour.
Presently, however, the door opened
and an old farmer, whose wife was one
OF her patients, came busting in.
, "Good-morning. doctor, good-morn-
, Ing" he cried cheeriiy. Il bad to come