The Advocate and news., 1898-12-28
ONE CHRISTMAS
MORNING.
An Appropriate Story for the Holidays.
by PERLE HALEY.

The tears stood in little Marjorie's eyes
and her tiny baby lips trembled pitifully.
She was a tiny mite OF four years, with
large blue eyes and tangled brown curls
falling over her pretty face and nesting
on her fat little neck.
Marjories only companion and play
mate, her mother, lay dead in their little
bare room and would not wake up" as
Marjorie said, when she called her, pat
ting the cold cheek and rubbing her
chubby hands over the soft curls of her
dead mamma. There was no fire, and 1t
was so cold in their room. Shivers ran
over the thinly clad baby and her hands
were blue with cold. An old, faded blue
shawl was wrapped around the little
shoulders. 1t was the last loving act
her mamma had done, taking 1t from
her poor wasted form to tie around her
baby. She had called Marjorie to her as
she lay on her hard bed and Clasping her
to her breast, kissed and murmured her
blessings over her darling's head.
Are you cold, my preCiOus?" she
asked in her faint, sweet voice.
Ess, mamma, and there's no fire,
and Marjorie's hung'y, and it's so cold"
the child had said, kissing her mammas
thin hand.
Mrs. HarloWe was poor woman and
had taken in sewing TO support herself
and child and pay for the mean little
room which was their only shelter, and
1t was poor one. She had taken a Sc
we're cold and pneumonia had brought
her to her bed, which she soon left Tor
a colder one In the frozen earth. She
had had a doctors attention, but he
could not save her.
Marjorie stood by the low window and
looked out over the tops OF houses and
a feeling Of desolatiOn crept over her,
forcing the ready tears and making them
run down the dirty little face, leaving
course Of white behind them. She
turned and ran to her mothers side, and,
throwing herself ON her mothers breast,
Bobbed
Mamma, mamma, wake up, mes cold
Dor baby's cold, mamma. Tiss me"
She sobbed herself to sleep, and the
landlady found her when she came up
TO prepare Mrs. HarlOwe for the grave,
lying beside her mother with her arm
thrown around her neck and her warm
face pressed to her mothers cold one.
She tenderly lifted her and carried her
down stairs for her daughter Amy to
take care Of Tears stood in the good
woman's eyes, for she had little ones of
her own, and "the Lord knows what
would become of them II should die"
she said to herself.
When Marjorie awoke she gazed
around with wondering eyes. Where was
she? This wasn't her mammals room,
for 1t didn't have a warm carpet on
the floor nor nice, soft bed like the
one she was on, and who were those
boys and girls staring at her so?
"See, Amy, the little girl has opened
her eyes!" cried one Of the boys.
who's OO?" Marjorie asked, sitting up
and looking at the strange face beside
her
"Thats Willie" spoke up Amy, com
Ing to the bed and sitting down ON its
side Hes nice little boy. Don't you
hike him?"
Marjorie shook her head and said:
"Me don't like boys. Me likes my mann
ma. Mes going to see her. She went to
sleep and mes going to tiss her and
wake her up" She climbed of the low
bed onto the floor and started for the
door
mo, no, Marjorie, dear you stay here
awhile. Your mamma is asleep yet and
Marjorie must be good and wait until
she wakes up. Does Marjorie like pic.
tures?" asked the bewildered Amy, who
was afraid she couldn't succeed in keep
ing Marjorie quiet.
"'Ess, me like pitters," the child re-
Piled looking with interest at the book
Amy held in her hand,
well, then. come, and Amy will show
you the cows and piggies and Marjorie
can have nice time.
Marjorie came over and took the book