The Newtown bee. (Newtown, Conn.) 1877-current, 1898-04-15

folded her hands across her breast, closed
her eyes, just as she had seen her mother
on that last day, and waited-waite il.
through the seconds that the tall hall
clock licked solemnlV from below the
stairs, waited while they turned to min
utes, and even to an hour; but the angels
were waiting too, the guardian angels of
little Ruth.
While she waited the brown and white
pony was ambling down the road, bear
ing Mrs Whitaker home after the church
service. She had left Hannah on the
way to make call on her family and was
now alone. The peace of Easter was
smiling on her lips and the joy of Easter
was shining in her eyes; for Easter has
always the largest meaning to those, left
as she, alone in the world. But even TO-
night the sight of the poorhouse, looming
white and large in the dusk, brought q
passing frown to her forehead. She
drove up the driveway to the barn, light
ed the lantern and embarrassed the horse
the hired man had his Sundays out :;
then she came to the back door. The
sight of the key projecting from the lock
brought another frown to her face.
"Hannah's getting Careless" she said,
as she stepped into the kitchen. She sat
down a moment before the fire in the
darkness, then rising, lighted lamp and
went slowly up the stairs to put away
her bonnet aud shawl.
She came into her bedroom, placed the
light on her bureau and turned about
toward the bed. She gave sudden cry,
not shrek, but something between a
moan and sob and put her hand to her
side. But after still moment, she went
to the bureau, picked up the lamp in a
steady hand and walked gravely to the
bedside, looking over the little white
figure from the dark, roughened hair to
the pirk-toed feet. A hint Of a smile
came to the corners of her month.
Now the child opened her big black
eyes, saw the faint smile and TRANQUILITY
closed them again.
Anne Whitaker frowned. Was it q
trick being played upon her?
"What are you doing here2' she de-
manded, still holding the light and still
peering down into the child's face.
Ruth opened her eyes again with look
OF appeal in them. Tim dying" she
answered, calmly, and then closed her
eyes.
Mrs Whitaker jumped so that the chin.
ney almost fell from the lamp: she hpr-
ried to the bureau, placed it there and
then came back to the bed.
''Do you feel very bad?'' she queried,
anxiously.
A piteous frown came to the child's
forehead. ''Please don't 'sturb me. I
want to die;" she had screwed her eyes
more tightly together this time.
Mrs Whitaker Strengthened up. "Oh,
you do, do you?" then she bent over the
bed. ''Have you taken anything?" she
asked, solicitously.
The child looked at her now. "No,
1 didn't have anything that was good
enough. You can get most everything
in Heaven, can't your ..~
Anne Whitaker retreated q SPACE and
sat down in the nearest chair. She did
not answer until she realized that Ruth
was still looking at her inquiringlv.
eyes, [ guess So" che began, hastily.
Then she felt draft of cold air. ST
guess there isn't much doubt about your
dying IL you lie there with that window
open;" she went toward the window and
closed 1t.
Don't shut it; how can the angels
come in2" Ruth sat up in bed and Look
ed at her.
Anne Whitaker looked back at the thin
little face and the sad, dark eyes, and
lump came into her throat.
s'They can come In at the door. 7
guess she said; but she was not think
Ing of the words.
She went over to the child, who had
lain down again, and touched her bare,
chill feet. you're going to catch your
death a-cold, ? she affirmed. sim going
% put my shawl over you.''
The child unfolded her hands and
spread them out In appeal. sWon't you
please let me diep This ID such nice
house TO die in.''
Again Mrs whitaker retreate6.
sWhat-what do you want to die for?v
The stammered.
Cause my mamma died, an want
Q 20 IN see her III Heaven; an it's q
mere Joyful place than the poorhouse. y
Mrs Whitaker bad always prided her