The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1899-03-31

w long box covered
with an old black shawl; had passed
her on it's way to the village burying
ground.
"Another pauper's funeral" Mrs.
Whitaker murmured, looking over her
shoulder, as she drove on past the town
farm.
Again Anne Whitaker's lips curled.
"Old men and funerals, right next
door," and this time she struck the
slow-moving pony gentle blow with
her equally slow-moving whip.
Now Mrs. Anne Whitaker was not
hard7hearted woman. She was only
an indignant land owner who found
her handsome farmhouse almost ruined
for residential and property purposes
by its proximity to- the poor farm. This
farm, adjoining Mrs. Whitaker's, had
been left to the town last year.
''Tt's not that I don't want. the pau
pe1S to be comfortable said Mrs.
Whitaker. as the pony trotted up the
driveway toward the barn; ''but must
say 1 don't care to have them right I'M
der my nose.'
Mrs. Whitaker, not finding her man
about, embarrassed the pony and led
him into the stall and then went in
doors to duscuss with Hannah, the only
other occupant of the big house, the
disadvantages of the locality.
Meantime in the poorhouse. next
door, little child was sobbing her
heart out in an upper room.
s'Vnu hadn't ,rh 4o1 bar
away before her mother died, if she
did make a FUSS" said the daughter of
the woman who looked after the poor
farm, I'm agoin' up to see her,
She went up two flights of stairs to
the garnet room where child was
seated on an old box in the corner. The
child stopped crying, half frightened as
she entered The girl sat down on a
trunk opposite
Look here: Ruth, You mustn't cry
any longer" commanded the matron's
daughter.
81 want my mother" sobbed the
child. with new courage
The girl hesitated moment. "Well,
you can't have your mother" she an
swered at last, frankly, "she's dead,
and gone to Heaven
'Oh,' said the child, slowly, "you
didn't tell me. Mamma said she
thought she was going to die, but they
didn't tell me; they just carried me
away"
'Well, for gracious sakes!' cried the
girl; "you took on so about her bein'
sick that we had to. You amt goin' to
cry any more: are you?". she added,
coaxingly.
mo, I ain't.' answered the child,
gravely.
''There, that's good girl;" the ma
irons daughter rose and gave the dark
locks an affectionate rub. II knew you
wasn't goin' to be naughty"
The girl went downstairs and left
Ruth sitting very still upon the box
in the corner and thinking hard, with
her eyes fixed on a cobweb Just across
the garnet.
''My mamma has died and gone to
Heaven" the child meditated. solemn
ly 81 told her if she went up to
Heaven first. the next thing she knew
she'd look around and see me there.
amt going to stay in this horrid place
without her. I'm going to die myself
and go and see her, right straight off,
TIL put on my best nightgown. and I'll
lie down in the bed and put some flow
ers ut my head"--some kind, person
had placed a bouquet by her mothers
bed the last time Ruth had seen Her
lying sick and still-"and then I'll die
and go to Heaven" She rose now and,
stepping to the window, peered be-
tween the dusky festoons at the blue
sky. as if she expected to see the angels
already descending to bear her away.
At last she went quietly down the
stairs: she must find the flowers first,
and to go out of doors by the back way
she must pass through the kitchen.
The girl was at the stove frying dough
nuts. and looked up as Ruth entered.
,.:HIuilo., she said; ..have dough
nut22' 7#s5 & 4,
These doughnuts we're not for the IN.