The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1899-12-02
was lost to view. and turned away with
a SILVER as she thought of the distance

was lost to view, and turned away Will
a SILVER as she thought of the distanc,
to the village. She knew nothing o.
the interview with Mr.. Stanton. Sh,
understood, however, that only som,
stern duty or pressing necessity could
take Aunt Sarah from home so late anC
on such stormy evening.
| Notwithstanding her promise to re.
turn promptly, ii was nearly two hours
before Aunt Sarah threw the doors oil
her sitting-room invitingly open.
"Come right in" she said, cheerily
''every one of you, just as fast as you
can"
Susie Belle, who had fallen asleep
after n weary watch. started at the
sound of Aunt Sarah's voice. She fell
back few steps and began to rub her
eyes. What could it mean? She was
surely dreaming. Pouring into the room
were rough men and miserable,
drenched women, many of whom were
carrying small children.
Here, child! These poor people have
had their homes washed away. Show
the men into the kitchen while get
dry clothes for the women and chill
dren."
And Aunt Sarah fell to emptying
chests, drawers and wardrobes, utter
| ly regardless of her usually orderly
habits. BY ten o'clock that night, 20
men, women and children had been
warmed, beautifully fed and comfort
ably bedded.
Aunt Sarah felt strange lightness
Of heart as she and Susie Belle sought
a hard bed in the attic. True, she was
at first unmindful of His command; but
had she not made generous atonement?
Even the garments of her beloved dead,
which she had aired and treasured year
after year, were put into use that night.
A dry sob arose in her throat as she
thought of "Jim's folks "Never
mind" she said to herself. perhaps
they will stay over Sunday, and can
cook them another Thanksgiving din
ner."
Morning dawned clear. Aunt Sarah
and her willing little helper were up
betimes preparing breakfast for their
numerous visitors, and right COM
Portable one il was. Many of the way
farers set out early TO return TO the
doomed town or TO seek friends or rela-
tives in the country. Others fingered as
though they were too weary and fright.
ened from that terrible days experience
10 think of aught else Most of them
were of the poorer class. One among
them, however. was man of kind and
gentle manners. who somehow won
Aunt Sarah's confidence at once. He
did not ask many questions; but before
she realized what she was doing, she.
had told him of the expected guests.
the disappointment and even the mort
gage.
\ little later Aunt Sarah was lowering
about her relatives. explaining and
apologizing with tears in her eyes.
Wasn't it grand OF her to do that?"
said Jims wife. who proved TO be
plump. kind little woman. Don't You
mind bit lear Aunt Sarah. OF course
We'll stay over Sunday, and l will help
YOU cook tomorrow: and Saturday
we'll have a big dinner. l am not at
all afraid of starving in the meantime"
Although the dinner was two days
late, never was a more tempting one
placed upon a board nor ever did hap
pier people gather around it. Just as
Cousin Jim had finished asking a bless
ing. his eldest son returned from the
village, where he had gone upon an err
rand.
Here is letter for you, Cousin
Sarah" he said, handing her a large
envelope.
"a letter." she echoed. "Who can be
writing to me?"
She broke the seal and q crisp bank
note fell upon her plate.
She read aloud:
Dear Madam:
II beg that you will pardon the liberty
take in sending this amount. l shall never |
miss 1t, as am wealthy man and have |
no family One who knows how to make
much good use of home should certainly |
not lose 1t. Yours truly,
ROBERT UPTON"
"Oh, / don't deserve it! l don't deserve
to be paid in this way!" and Aunt
Sarah buried her face in her apron
Eleanor Norton Parker, in N. Y. Inde-
pendent.
VERIEIEn