Republican news item. [volume] (Laport, Pa.) 1896-19??, 1898-07-14
An Old Maids Love Affair.
Ry JAMES RrcKHAM.

than Drew. "Shiftless chap! Cam
ing down on my property wit
out even asking permission and usir
my lumber shanty, stove and WOO
I'm glad he's gone, but wish he
: taken his hull blame brood with hin
The young un IL prob'ly G. ov up je
like the rest of 'em, la y and wutl
lessp'
"Ah heard say" continued the Ii
tie Frenchman, "dat mans Hinglisl
man, good family, but not ver' stron
for work. Los heez health an 'blige
for take to de woods. No money-n
health big family. All guess ah'l
40 bout same ting as him, bah gosh
II ah get too much bebbyp'
Don't doubt it, Alphonse. re
joined the farmer. s"rhat's Jest th
sort of critter you be and yer hui
Canuck tribe
Alphonse grinned appreciatively an(
TOOK no offence. Then silence fell
upon the three men until the last
crumb and drop of their MONDAY lunch
had disappeared.
Abigail tenderly laid the baby down
in the grass while she gathered to-
gether the dishes and napkins and re-
packed them in the basket. Her
brother stood over her, watching. He
was spare, hard-faced, iron-gray
man, who showed by every line and
feature the absence of sentiment in
his makeup. The woman's hands
trembled as she worked. She knew
he was about to say something con-
cerning the child. Presently he
spoke:
"You kin keep that young un jest
two days, Abigail. Then, if there
don't nobody come to claim it, l am
goln' to take it to the Founding Hos
pital." Having thus delivered him
self, he shouldered his pitchfork and
walked determinedly away.
Tears obscured the homeward path
of the little woman as she struggled
through the shimmering sunlight with
the infant on her arm. She knew that
her brother would be turned from his
purpose neither by argument nor by
entreaty. He had spoken, and that
was an end of 1.-THE inhexible ulti-
matum of that old Puritan bred tyr
amy that survives in so many heads
of New England households.
But, though the path was blurred
it took her home-the only home she
had ever known, the roof under which
she had been born and reared and
which had descended to her elder
brother when their parents died.
to the pantry, she took milk
and warmed it for the babe, half stu
pefied by starvation. Then, clumsily,
yet with woman's instinct, she spar
ingly fed the child with spoon, a few
drops at time. AS life came back to
the little body with nourshment, the
baby cried weakly. and Abigail
strained it to her bosom, while tears
Of mingled Joy and pity rained down
upon the little head. What pretty
child it was, despite its suffering
What clear, white skin; what lit
tie, pointed, dimpled chin; what blue,
blue eyes; what breadth of forehead
and fullness OF temple; what dainty
little hands; what soft, sweet neck
for nesting mothers lips
For two days Abigail Drew lived in
the awful Joy of one who drains the
nectar from a cup which, when
emptied, must be dashed to earth.
She tried to put away the thought that
she and that little baby girl must part.
She tried to make those two precious
lays heaven enough for all of life.
She tried, with all the dutifulness and
reverence of her nature, to bow to her
brothers. will and be content. But
every hour the whisper in her heart
grew stronger and more insistent--
''Cleave to the child. Keep her, cher
sh her. She is yours, gift of God,
.he answer to your lifelong prayer"
At last she went to her brother and
poured out her heart with an intensity
of passion he had never suspected in
hat quiet, reserved, meekly subser-
Went sister of his. But, although
and disturbed, Nathan Drew
vas not moved. His heart remained
obdurate. To him the thought of q
'oundling child in the house was un-
sndurable. Never a lover of children,
always convinced in his own heart
-huo NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS. WIS Tile more
state. how could he be ex-
oected to look with favor upon an
adopted baby, child concerning
whose antecedents and propensities
one knew absolutely nothing? No! he
would not hear to it. To the Found
ing Hospital at Mayield the little
waif must go.
Towards evening of the last day of
her probation Abigail Drew began to
gather together certain little treasures
Of her rown-heirlooms. Her mothers
Bible, the laces left her by Aunt Ju-
.lith, an old-fashioned watch and
chain, six silver spoons, worn as thin
as paper-these, and few other
things, she wrapped in a bundle; and
then, taking baby and bundle in her
arms, she went out, closing the kitchen
ioor reverently and softly behind her.
Down the road, through the haze of
The late afternoon, she walked, as
one in dream, leaving behind her all
that she lad ever known and loved