Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1899-01-04
She did no. know me at first, and wa.

SDp 0lu UOf kllDn lit 1t niSif va
busting n chair that was already of n
spotlessness TO shame DIR chairs at
home. when suddenly size recognized
me-the shock shattered for moment
the reserve of years-she threw her tim
little arms around my neck aud kissed
me-faltered an apology for the I'D
erty," and then sat down on the doubly
busted chair and cried piteonsly.
| listened TO such tale Of poverty
and self-denial as my young ears mad
| never heard before Work scarce and
growing scarcer, hardly enough TO live
on. and TO crown all, the urgent neees-
sity for saving, for boarding every pos
sible penny.
but whyY'
For my funeral, my dear she said
| 'I'ye kept myself respectable all these
wears, and If the parish was 10 touch
me should turn in my coiiin-l know
| should
"Your needles crooked" | said. fight
| ing with choking feeling In my throat.
LET me thread you another.
Dear MISS she said, this Is the
only needle I've got. It's not SO crook
ed-and n cents cent-and needles IN
penny packets isn't what they used to
| be. No, and | won't let you buy me
even needles, miss. It's the principle
| | think of; won't be beholden.'
you've got the old pincushion there,
STILL" | said; there must be lots or
needles In that; let me empty out the
sawdust and see. I'll put it all back
carefully"
l think Miss Peckitts will must have
been weakened by long fasting and
trouble, for she let me rip up one side
of that sacred cushion and pour out
the bran into that little black tea tray
with the gold border. l found In that
bran sixty-seven good needles, to say
nothing of broken ones.
Then l began to put the bran back,
and as l pushed 1t in to make 1t hard
and tight | felt hollow in the brick.
| There was something in 1t. pulled 1t
out.
"Oh, Miss Peckitt," l cried; "look
what have found in your pincushion.
A little canvas bag-and in 1t several
bills and a little letter.
Ny Dear Blossom: This is $3.50 of my
money. so as You will have something il
am not lucky with the rest. You will find
this when you rip off the cover. Ii all
goes well, as please God it will, it will pay
for things of our home. Your true friend
n nd affectionate lover
WILLIAM BEALE.
"Pay for things for the house? 1t
will pay for my fneral."
Miss Peckitt was on my mind. l had
seen that the money and the words
from the dead had brought her more
pain than joy-and after dinner that
evening l slipped on dark cloak and
ran down the quiet street to little
white house. l opened the door softly
and peeped in.
There was fire in the CRATE, and be-
fore it in the armchair with the patch
work cushion sat middle-aged man.
Miss Peckitt sat on his knee and her
arm was around his neck. In her
cheeks was the fresh color | had
never seen there, and In her eyes the
light of youth and hope.
Its my Willie" she cried; "he's
come back! Oh, miss, dear, to think
of 1.-THE was coming home to me, with
his fortune made, and the ship was
wrecked, and him and the others has
been living like Robinson Crusoe, and
only fetched away by a ship the other
day."
am sure they were both persons of
sentiment, because they bought back
the old farm. with its south wall where
the apricots "fruited so free" and when
they went TO church Miss Peckitt wore
a gown of faded silk with rosy sprlg.
The cousin in Maidstone had been
faithful to his trust, and there was
enough of the silk that the bridegroom S
mother had worn at her marriage to
clothe the little bride on her wedding
day.-Longmans Magazine.
Humors of Balaklava.