The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1899-03-08
A DAY OF WHOLE THINGS.
DY MARY Z. MITCHELL.

enough DonnetS ana trimmings TO get
me through my natural life.
Sometimes 1 think most every
thing in this world is q patch or a
make-over," she proceeded. eff it
amt done-over meat it's warmed-over
potatoes; and il it ain't them it's lit
tie mess of beans aud dab of hash to
be got out of the way together.
There's always leavings-overl 1 don't
even work at anything real good and
steady. Sometimes it's mending and
sometimes it's nursing, and again it's
buttonholes. But it's always some
thing, thank the Lord Leavings-
over are heap sight better than fall
ings-short"
''Miss Ferry, you said you couldn't
afford to lose q whole days work.
Don't you ever take holiday"
"Bless you, Miss Florence! 1 don't
remember ever being idle a whole
day. I was going to, thought I was
going to the Baptist picnic last week.
You know they went to Oak Grove, a
real slightly place, they tell me, and
right by the lake. / got all ready,
and if Mrs. White didn't go and sprain
her ankle.
"Why did that keep you? She has
a daughter, hasn't she?"
"Oh, yes; but Rose is young, and
of course wanted her good time.
saw she was terribly disappointed. 80
1 said, I'll stay with your mother,
Rose, and yo1 never saw anybody
more tickled. There, Miss Florence,
there's the jacket, and you tell your
ma hope it'll suit. It's been o real
refreshment to see you, and 1 hope
you won't think I'm cross and un-
grateful, complaining as 1 havel"
Florence stopped over the little
woman with sudden impulse.
''There's o whole kiss all for your
self" she said.
/ Miss Ferry's thin cheek flushed un-
der the unwonted caress. "Bless her
kind hearth she said, as she watched
the girls light figure go down the
path. 81 declare, I'm fairly ashamed
of having run on so about myself. 1t
was real grumbling. don't believe I'd
have done it if 1 hadn't been so worn
out sitting up, and then being disap-
pointed about that henrietta. Well,
Jane needs the money more than 1 do
the dress-poor grill"
Florence Heath walked slowly along
the elm-shaded street, thinking OF
Miss Ferry. The sun was high and
hot aud the road dusty. Colonel
Heath's lawn stretched smooth and in
viting. AS Florence turned toward
the house, one of her little brothers
came ratiling down the broad drive in
his shising cart behind his pony.
The big mausion, which stood back
on the top of the slope, looked cool
and restful with its wide piazzas and
gay awnings.
'Never anything new or whole,
and 1 never had anything else"
thought the girl.
Florence found her mother on one
of the piazzas, swinging slowly to and
fro in a willow chair.
w Aub ~ uouIg LOU IOOh
tired. 1t was too warm walk for
you. You should have let James
drive you down."
Mamma, / have everything and
Miss Ferry has nothing. Why is it?"
said Florence, as she threw herself
into hammock.
That's pretty hard question to
answer all at once" responded Mrs.
Heath, with smile. "Tell me about
it, dear"
Florence told her story. 'I don't
think 1 ever knew" she concluded,
''iust the difference there is between
my life and some other peoples. Oh,
I suppose knew, but never saw it
so clearly. 1t doesn't seem right at
all"
Mrs. Heath watched her daughters
face. "One can always SHARE" she
suggested.
Florence was silent o moment;
then she said: 'T'd like to give Miss
Ferry one good, whole dayl'
"Miss Ferry might have whole
things if she didn't share, Florence.
She has q sort of shiftless sister in
Greenville whom she helps a great
deal. I suspect the larger part OF her
earnings goes there. She helped
those poor Larkinses and made
clothes for the children, and she is
always going where there is sickness.
I don't know of anyone who does so
much good in a quiet way and with so
little means, as Miss Ferry"
Florence sprang out of the ham
mock. scattering the soft pillows right
and left, went over to her mother and
kissed her.
"I think I'll try a little of the shar-
ing business myself" she said, and
went into the house.
The phoebe-bird uttered its plain
tive note in the horse-chestnut tree
close to the window and woke Miss
Ferry from a sound morning nap.
"Mercyl" she exclaimed, as she
looked at the loud-ticking timepiece
which adorned her mantel-shelf
Give o'clock I'm getting into a
dreadful habit Of sleeping late. It's
mortal lazy, and o sinful waste of
time, but somehow I amt so spry as
/ used to be-"