The free press. (Poplarville, Miss.) 1890-19??, 1897-02-04


has the prediction been given,
"They'll both get tired OF living
alone, and make it all up. Ybu sec if
they don't"
Johnnie feeds the hens while Aunt
Patty puts Sancho's breakfast under
the doorstep, with the always added
admonition--
''Now, Sancho. if you see Jim Back
us coming, run right under The hem
house"
She closes the gate, and stops to
look at the lilac bush, and thinks of
the purple plumes hidden so closely in
the bright green buds.
'How kind Nature is to al life en-
trusted to its care p she sat Us; "and
it never makes mistake"
She thinks how sweetly the birds
sing, and how much of life there is in
the bright spring morning. 5he finds
herself singing
''If 1t were always May, sweetheart,
If it were always May"
She stops suddenly, REMEMBERING
the weight of nearly fifty yetrs. But
she cannot close ncr eyes to the SWELL
ing buds and sweet awakening that
shows at every step along he road
side. They cross tho marrow brid ge,
and Johnnie, growing impatient, runs
ahead and calls,-
''Let us hurry, now, AT int Patty,
for mover is waitin'."
She follows Johnnie into he house,
through the long entry, and stops just
at the parlor door to leave her bon
net and shawl. She hears he child's
voice.
II didn't tell! didn't t sll! Now,
Uncle John, div me the canhy."
Mrs. Hastings meets her a the door
and says in a glad voice, -
"Uncle John has come back, Aunt
Patty, and we want you lere for n
nice long day"
She hears another voice speak her
name, she feels a warm band clnsp
hers, and like one in DIR e}m she en-
L l. ,l 4 l,
tions and replies, but all sound far
away-only Johnnie's happy voice
seems real.
"You amt got to do nufln' today
Aunt Patty-not sew, mend, nor
muffin. Mover said so -ddn't she,
Uncle John?"
"Unless she will mend / broken
life, he slowly answers.
81 dess she can, says Johnnie, "for
my wocking hoss dot his tai bowked
off, and she stuckt it on jist IS good as
ever"
Aunt Patty takes the mendng bas-
ket, thankful for once to buy herself
with its contents.
SO the quiet spring day goes on.
Neighbors drop in to see he wan
derer. Talk of travels, Western life,
and many changing scenes she hears,
but her own heart is treadingthe path
that thirty years have made. Many
pictures were dim and almsst for
gotten; but today the fires of memory
are oil lighted, and every image is
shown in truthful outline. Tie hasty
words, the parting, the waiting and
uncertainty, and then the lonely years
The sunbeams had just fuled to
enter the west window as Aunt Patty
folded the last garment aud put the
needles and thmble into the work bag
She spoke of Sancho and the hens
needing their supper, and hurriedlt
put on her bonnet aud shawl. |
A tall form waits at the door, aud
together they walk down the path
across the bridge and along the count
try road. They talk but little. Each
heart is asking and answering its own
questions. They enter the yard; she
closes the gate, and turning to the
road. they stard aud gaze at the pic
ture. There is the green meadow be-
low with the winding river, the blue
hills beyond, all soitened with the
lights of the spring sunset. She sees
it all tonight with girls clear eyes
Of years ago. He speaks her name !;
she turns to see him standing with
head bowed and hands clasped.
PATTY" he says. "will you repeat
the words you said here Mt the gate
thirty years ago: You are all to
blame, John Hastings. will never
4 l~.-. tho oorar oufoO