The Worthington advance., 1898-02-10

W1Z/" that she could not
enjoy her dinner. She had always
prided herself on her hanging of skirt,
but that day her right hand had forgot
ten its cunning.
Don't worry, Doris,' said Mrs. Giles
pie, putting another slice of boiled NUT
ton on the dressmaker's plate. Lay it
by till tomorrow, and begin Sarah
James school gingham."
''Well, if you don't care" said Doris,
with look of relief, ut would be
great lift off my mind" and she ate
three pieces of mutton in her satisfac-
ton.
''Did you know that Eben Doolittle
was sick?" said Mrs. Gillespie after din
ner, as she piled her basting-needle.
Doris looked up from the sewing ma
chine so quickly that keen observer
Mrs. Gillespie's glasses covered unsus-
pecting eyes.
"They say he's threatened with
fever. No wonder. Living alone, and
doing his own cooking and farming
both, when any man in his senses would
have hired housekeeper long ago, or
got married, which would have been
better still. They say he's worrying
about some payments he can't meet
next month, and. take it altogether, I
shouldn't wonder if he was pretty bad
off. Would you have this gingham
waist shirred at the top. or laid in plaits
all the way down. Doris?"
The little dresmaker's heart was
humping so that she thought her COM
panion must hear it. But the placid
face opposite was absorbed in the plat
ings and shirrings.-
ITS all shirrings," thought poor
Doris, "all puckered up close and ght,
and somebody's got to cut the gather
straight" (she and Eben Doolittle
had once been much more than friends,
but Fate had undertaken to do some.
"shirring." and there was nobody at
hand to 'cut the gathering threads.")
Doris answered Mrs. Gillespie as best
she could. and started the machine
again.
When night came she rolled up her
scissors. thimble and tape measure and
put on her things, despite Mrs. Giles
pies invitation to stay all night. Doris
wanted to be alone where she could
think hard, and the society of Sarah
Jane, who would have been her bedfel-
low, was not conducive to contempla-
tion.
On her way home, she passed a low
brown house standing back from the
road-a house dark and silent, but
which quickened her pulse by its mere
outlines.
II wonder if the poor soul is there all
alone," thought Doris. ANY other
neighbor could run in and see after him
in friendly way, but that's all out of
the question for mel"
When she reached home, she reused
her fire out of its all-day sluggishness,
and sat down before it without lighting
q lamp. She could think better in the
dark.
II wonder when those payments
must be made" she said to herself. Its
the 18th Of February now"
Suddenly a twofold idea buzzed
through Doris Hilburn's brain like a
Fourth of July pin Wheel" and her
plaintive little face grew hot and rosy
In the dim, fre-lighted room.
IF I only dared!" she said half
breathlessly-then with gathering
boldness, why not? No one will ever
find it out, and Eben will not dream of my
doing such a thing. 1t may tide him over,
30 he will pick up and get well. It may
be only the drop in the bucket. or it may
be the full gallon. but I'll risk it. which
ever it is"
Pleasant dreams turned her humble
pillow into a cushion of down, and
draped her bare walls with the cloth of
gold which too often, alas! must turn
to hodden-gray with the first touch of
dawn.
But Doris cloth Of gold kept the glim-
mer Of its threads through all the next
day. At noon she got through her din
ner early, and excused herself to do an
errand. She hurried along the quiet
village streets to the business quarter,
and when she met group Of gleeful
schoolgirls joking over the valentines
they were going to send, she pressed her
hand over little thin book in her muff,
and wanted to skip and laugh as the
schoolgirls did. ef-s .,s 5s
The official who waited on her seemed
little surprised at the nature OF her
errand. ,.7 # IL,
He needn't stare SO. have right
to do what ! please with my owD."
thought Doris, trihe indignantly, yet.
with certain feeling that she was do