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

doughnuts off to the matron's private
larder; "that's the day the dead shall
all rise.''
She had not reasoned the IL nth out
logically, but she found for herself a
satisfactory Interpretation by the time
the tea-bell rang and the poor folk
crowded into the big dining room. The
food, tho good after its kind, seemed
tasteless. Ruth watched the old people
with pity in her black eyes,
II wonder why they don't all die," she
though; ''p'r'aps if they knew L was
going to they'd want to. They could
nave anything to eat in Heaven" and
she glanced at old Granny Goodwin
grumbling oyer her mush. But l guess
l won't tell them," she decided, finally.
II don't want to die in a crowd"
The next morning brought Easter, a
fair and glad day for many as well as for
little Ruth; for was not this to be the day
ON which she should rise to her mother
in the skies? She went out into the
garden directly after breakfast to gather
some flowers, but the spring was barely
beginning to push the tender stalks
through the softened earth. After much
searching Ruth discovered in a swamp
far from the house, a pussy willow bush,
with the catkins clinging gray and soft
to the shining brown twigs. She picked
d great bunch of these and bore them
home in triumph. Then she went to the
little trunk her mother had left her, and
opening it, took out her best night-dress,
clean and white and whole. But by this
time The people were coming home from
church and the poor shouse was full of
voices. She heaved little sigh.
''I'm 'fraid l won't get any chance to
die," she thought, ruefully. Then sud-
denly she remembered something; her
mothers lament the night before she lost
all knowledge of where she was, that
she must die in the poor-farm; how bad
she felt about that. Ruth folded the
nightgOwn again and put it back in it's
place in the trunk. 81 don't think
Mamma'd want me to die here" she
murmured, with little sob of disap-
pointment in her voice.
All that day she was very quiet, and
the poor people with that delicacy of
sympathy which binds poor and rich
alike, left her to what they judged was
her sorrow. Little they knew that she
was turning over and over in her mind
various plans and projects for her suit
able decease.
It was at dusk of that Easter Day
when a little white-robed figure stole
softly out of the back door Of the poor
house, and, creeping slowly alorg in the
shadow, came at last to Mrs Whitaker's
back gate. Then it fairly flew up the
pathway and, paused at the door. But
the door was locked, and there was no
key in sight. A sudden memory came
to Ruth of the day when she had been to
walk with the girl at the poor-farm, and
the girl had taken the key from under
the mat. She reached down now and
felt beneath the mat. Yes, there it was.
She fitted the key in the door, turned
it quickly and found herself in Mrs Whit
aker's pleasant kitchen, where the fire
glowed in a safe, subdued fashion, and
the diningroom showed through the half
opened door.
But Ruth wasted scarce a glance on
these beauties. She had seen the brown
and white pony go down the road some
time since, and she planned to die and be
done with it before the pony's owner
should return.
She wiped her cold bare feet carefully
on the kitchen rug; it appeared to her
most fitting to die in bare feet; then,
holding the big bunch of puesy-willows
closely, she crept softly up the stairs to
the handsome square chambers. She
was awestruck with their size and
grandeur, and it took her some time
to decide which one was suitable
for her laying out; but at last she select
ed Mrs Whitaker's own bedroom. She
placed the pussy-willows in a vase on
the table at the head of the bed, and
then she opened the window wide.
81 should think that would be big
enough for the angels TO get nae through
II they're careful, she said, aloud; she
had not seen her mother carried away in
the poor-farm wagon in the long, black
box.
She climbed solemnly up into the great
bed, lying quietly in the CEN
ter of it, her little close-eropped head |
against Mrs Whitaker'a spicg and span
shams, her small, bare feet projecting,
pink-toed and chill, from the edge Of her