Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1899-08-03
THE WIDOW IILIEYS GREAT OUTING.
By OCTAVE THAEET.

rCopyrisht. 80 PSI tHe Agthorl
The widow Tiuey had MT been ont
Of the little Iowa city wa re she lived
respected by alN for ten years. bat
IN the TWO years during which She
was saving and reading and listening
20 prepare for her visit h the World
fair she often told her friend Eliza
Merry that she ielt as if sh, had trav-
elsd thousands Of miles
As .he spoke she glanced around her
tidy little room, which was decked
with woodcuts FROM illustrated papers,
all repeating the tale Of that lovely city
of a dream.
She was a tall woman, Comely. al
most handsome. and she had in her trim
sataca gown and her neat cap, in her
smiling fresh colorad face and white
teeth and bright eyes, in her very bear
iuz. which was alert and vigorous as
the motions of a woman Of 40. although
Hannah Tilley would never see her six
ticth birthday again. kind of dignity
and that calm courtesy which comes
from IN assured social position. whether
high or low. Indeed it was we'll known
that if Mrs. Tilley rented a fiat at the
Athertcn ii was because she wished in
dependence and company combined,
since she had two houses Of her own,
one occupied by her only child, a mar
ried daughter, and the other rented at
q good rate By all odds Mrs. Tilley
was the most prosperous tenant in the
building. the one whom the tenants al
ways chose to proffer requests for fresh
paint or plumbing, the one whom the
men or the women always consulted
about the spending of the bit of money
that they had saved She had friends
among the rich people, carriages Were
something's seen 10 halt at her door, her
apartments being on the first floor. She
had lived for ten years as cock in one
family and the fame of her dishes was
vet great IL the land. She still earned
many a dollar at feasts and with her
fruit cake and other delicacies which
many people Of her town believe there
Is no one but she can make.
''Ah, you do have cause to be thank
ful, Mrs. Tilley. said Eliza Merry
from the depths of her heart. Eliza was
a little wisp of gray haired, neutral
tinted, melancholy woman, who, ac-
cording to the tenants, twas born to no
good luck. F" She had been a submissive
wife To a drunken and cruel husband
ard a devoted mother TO three wild
sons all safe under the ground now,
where she could praise and love them
without fear. Quite alone in the world,
she earned her livelihood as a charwo
man, keeping offices neat. She made
enough to live barely, and that was all.
If she mad any pleasures, they came from
the woman before her.
Eyes, am thankful, 3" said Mrs. Til
ley. II don't mind telling I've saved
for year past, and 'lotting on going,
and l don't think it's wrong, for Jim
and Mercy are going to take the two
biggest children, and they II see all the
glories Of the world too. If it was SO
they couldn t. I'd feel | had no right,
but ever since they put the money in
the bank for it they have been at me
to 90 with them, and fact is, Liza, |
have been dreaming of ii for year.
for says |, / amt going no hard ways,
carrying my lunch with me on the cars
and living on nothing while / am trot
ting round. No; l got whole room to
myself that Jim's engaged for me, and
the house is ON the railroad, and | can
get in and out as easy and have enough
to treat the children. They are only go
ing to stay week but shall stay ten
days.
well, | do hope you II have a good
time. There amt anybody deserves it
more, " declared Eliza.
The widow Tilley looked up quickly,
to meet the simple admiration in the
others dim eyes. Somehow it gave her
a queer pang and took all the pith out
of her complacency.
Il declare, l hate to go off and leave
you scrubbing behind, she said, with
a frown
=" 'Tain't your fault, interrupted
Eliza quickly. "You offered to pay my
fare for day, and l wouldn't take it.
Iruther you saved it to keep for bury
ing me when the time comes
" Liza, you hush 'Tain't so bad as
that! Liza, won't you bark to the doe
tor? He says if you'll only go to the
hospital he knows they can cure you.
take it in time And, dearie child -
unconsciously falling in her earnestness
into the language she had used to her
children long ago-"dearie child, it
won't hurt you one bit. They'll give
you ether to smell and put you to sleep,
and when you wake up it II all be gone,
and you'll never need to drag around
in torment, but be light and spry, like
You was a young woman. Why, Lord,
you do be young, Liza Merry-not 80
till March Don't You throw away your
lifel Don t, for my sake, that wouldn't I
know how to git along without youl'
The tears fairly glittered in her black
eyes with her eagerness, but Eliza lis
tened heavily and shook her head. "Im
feared of them hospitals, she mutter-
ed "William Mix, he told me himself
there wa II no need having his leg cut
off, good doctor told him, but they
took him TO hospital, and he couldn't
help hisself, and they took it off, and
him on wooden leg ever since.
William Mix 'u'd of been a dead
man in coffin if he hadn't lost his
legl" cried Mrs. Tilley stoutly. And
tltdbth MN Bpod SOAdS hht NNAA
he knows it, but he loves to talk and
criticise Amt heard him criticising
the president of the United States only
Yesterday Him that don't know
enough to run chicken yard. for all
his chickens died when he tried to have |
incubator. and his poor wife work
ing all winter, she did, to pay for the |
thing because it burned upl You know |
it yourself, Liza Merry. And he criti- |
cisel NY cake, that never before had a |
hard word from any one ever bought IT |
and paid money for it. but him that |
got it for nothing thought it wanted |
The least bit more spice - Mrs Tilley |
paused to take breath. and Eliza rose.
Il amt defending him. but sich |
things trighten body, you know, she |
ventured to say as she edged to the |
door. II got u go now, Mrs. Tilley."
She would not stay, although Mrs. |
Tilley proffered coffee and coffee cake.
She pleaded engagements and presently |
the widow saw her plodding wearily |
across the yard with a great basket
''She's killing herselfl' cried Mrs.
Tilley angrily "Well, it amt my bust
ness. She amt no kin.
Still frowning, the widow went to
chest Of drawers (she called il a chif
foner) and took ont a book of photo
graphs and red book labeled "Guide