The true Democrat. [volume] (Bayou Sara [La.]) 1892-1928, 1898-08-13

along every bit OF grass that could be
found; also, to give it fondness for
water, it was dipped in and out of
every pond and puddle and was, in
fact, such companion that when one
day the string was found to have lost
its appendage in the course of long
walk, Doreen was heart broken and
agitated her old grandmother consid-
erably.
"You really might put my own dear
Snowflake into your Red Book,
granny, she had sobbed. "You pray
for nasty old bad men and women, aud
my china hen never did anything but
get lost You are mean old granny,
and l won't love you any more"
As it seemed ell-nigh sacrilege to
Mrs. Moneypenny to even think of
Offering prayers for the recovery Of q
chiId's toy she tried her best to ex-
plain the same to Doreen, who re-
fused to listen, refused to stop crying
and gave her view Of the case as fol-
lows:
"You said, granny-you said 1 was
to tell God bout everything and ask
Him for everything-I Think think
you are very unkind not to tell Him
little girl has lost her dear china hen.
You can pray much better than can,
COS you are so old. Why can't you
do what you told me to do, granny"
The tears and the logic won the
day. With an unspoken prayer that
she might be forgiven, Mrs. Money
penny wrote down in her book: my
granddaughter, Doreen, has lost toy
and frets over the loss. Mem. 500.
To pray that it may be found and re-
stored to her keeping"
Since then nothing more had been
seen OF heard of the china hen. Every
Sunday Doreen reminded Mrs. Money
penny that it had not come back, till
the simple-hearted old lady grew anx-
ious lest the child's faith should suf-
fer and prayed as earnestly for the
restoration of the toy as she did for
the human woes that filled her book.
She need not have been anxious, how
ever, for Doreen was trusting little
soul. She was quite content now that
Snowflake was being prayed about
properly and amused herself by imag-
lining what sort OF adventures the
china hen was enjoying.
When dismissed from her grand.
mothers sitting room Doreen ran off
to a shady corner of the garden over
looking the main road. The main
road was neither very broad nor very
important, for it merely led from the
village of Hurst to the village Of
Finch, Mrs. Moneypenny's cottage
standing in rather an isolated position
between the two. Doreen's favorite
seat was on the top of the low wall
that bounded the garden, and on the
afternoon in question, after scrambling
aloft, she deposited her disreputable
array of dolls amidst the ivy with va
rious slaps and bumps.
Unconscious that a tramp was
watching from the other side Of the
road, Doreen played with her dolls
for several minutes, until a harsh
voice close to her said abruptly,
you've got big family up there, lit
tie missy"
Doreen looked down into the road,
studied the mans villainous face and
tattered clothes minute in silence.
Then, with friendliness born from
the security of her position above
him, she answered: eyes, beggar.
man, l have a very large family, and
every one of my children is desperate
wicked"
wicked, be they?" and the tramp
showed all his toothless gums in a
grin. 'Tve little gal at 'ome what
.has family same as you, missy; but
her fam'ly's powerful good, she aIlus
tells me-"
ooh, remarked Doreen; then, anx-
ious to be polite, she added, "P'raps
your little girl likes good childrens. I
don't. l like them to be wicked; then
/ can punish them. They're all being
punished now" waving her hand tow
ard the forlorn group in front Of her.
They've all got their legs where
there's most tickly things, carvings and
spiders and snails and beetles, and
they are being tickled frightfully-
they are screaming like Iscream when
granny combs my hair. It's dread
full anxious work having childrens to
bring up property"
Seems as if vegot somethin' ere
as yer might like to play with, missy, u
said the tramp after moments pause,
fumbling in a dilapidated pocket. "Tt
is a purity little thing wot I picks ur
in a ditch this morning." and he stood
close to the wall and held something
up to Doreen, who took hold of il
rather gingerly.
The next moment she cried: "Why,
it's my Snowflake! My own dear lit.
tie white hen that ran away from me
wears and wears ago! Did God tell