Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1899-05-25


where in the room We're traces Of tba :
far-away home, the same but with a
difference. The restless hand stoned
its unavailing caresses, the dry eve,
looked around piteously. Dead-daa 4
all dead. Hetty, Tom, Lysander. the
older Lysander whose wife she had
been, the father and mother whose
lives had run on to the century mark
dead,
The sleepless night had unnerved her
strangely; never before had she felt
such fatigue; there was a dull ache
through all her body, and a duller ache
at heart and brain. She stirred in q
sort of dumb protest. What had she
done-she asked herself feebly-what
had been wrong? She tried to think
collectedly and dOzed in the attempt.
starting up in a moment wide awake
She pressed close to the window and
raised the curtain.
'Hetty." she cried shrilly. IFS fair
Jest as | said 'twould be. Wake up.
Hetty,'
She put up the sash and stood look
ing out. glad of the beauty of the day.
In the room back of her it was very
still. Why didn't Hetty stir? She had
promised to dress the church with
flowers for the strange minister's COM
ing, and unless she hurried she would
be late.
'Hetty"
Suddenly. surely, the old times and
the present moment touched hands
across lapse of almost half century
and the truth was clear to the watch
er's mind. Hetty would not waken.
but the sorrow that reflection held was
dlspelled by the ecstasy of another
thought. The bishop was coming. She
leaned against the window-frame,
quivering with the swift transition
from grief to joy and feeling strangely
weak. Then a little diSmay crept into
her face as the picture of Hetty search
ing the meadows for flowers appealed
again to her imagination. And they
had not been for a bishop. only for a
minister from a neighboring town. She
remembered. and yet the church had
been sweet with the fresh. fair things
She stood quite still. one moment
cropping in the past. the next keenlv
alive to the glory Of the near future
Her thoughts flew back and forth like
a shuttle through web until from
such weaving a wonderful determine
ton was born. She would go as Hetty
had gone and gather flowers, No one
in the home would think of such a
thing she kneW-thOugh the matrOn
would put handful of asters from the
garden into the little vase on the read
ing-desk and consider she had done
enough. But what We're asters to offer
70 bishop? The young divinity stu
dent. the Sunday before, had had the
same mark of attention paid him, while
the missionary from somewhere had
had a great bowl Of roses. but tina
was because his visit had occurred i'm
June.
Almira Loveday sighed. then she
glanced eagerly at the Frightening
landscape: out there beyond the gar
den gate there must be some late
flowers she told herself reassuringly
goldenrod. gentians. and red-leayed
vines in plenty. The woods were only
a step away. If she hurried she might
find quantities Of blossoms with which
to honor the bishop. There was ample
time to go and return before breakfast |
which on Sundays was a half-hour
later than usual; no one would be the |
wiser until chapel time came and she'd |
risk the slipping out. The intrepid old |
face flushed into almost semblance of |
youth as the trembling fingers fumbled |
in their haste with strings |
and buttons.
Ii was not a great distance to the |
chapel. Just up an easy flight of |
stairs from the parlOr floor and Oppo |
site the matron's room the little band |
Of worshippers turned in at the open |
door. They walked together. often IN |
couples. creeping along with the slow |
step of age, the tap-tap Of their canes |
and their shufiling tread being the only |
sounds. Along the way there was a
subdued interchange of inquiries after |
ones health and remarks about the |
Weather-such conversation was part |
Of the Sunday programme-but ques- |
tons and answers ceased as the chapel |
was reached. and on its threshold all |
worldly thoughts We're baniShed. The |
hush Of the sanctuary was upon them. |
The room. with its long rows of chairs, |
its parlor-Organ at one side, and its |
desk upon the small platform !
between the windows, was a shrine to
hose simple souls as holy and beauti |
full as the one wrought by Angeles |
hand. Even the most childish among |
the worshippers felt its influence and |
the babbling tongues We're quiet. Here
and there came the sound of a gentle
whisper as the several attendants in |
charge of the more helpless aided them
to their places and attended to their
otherwise the stiffness was
After a moment of silent devotion, |
however there was a general craning IF
heads and twistings ana turnings in the |
chairs. For whatever other characters
ties die out with the years. curiosity IS
Hive until the end. number of the de
,otees were in their plain house-garb,
their faces gazing TRANQUILITY out from
heir muslin caps but others wore bon
nets and shawls as had been their Gus
ON at an earlier period of their lives.
'"Tant no ways hOnorin' the Lords
house to 90 in jest you'd go to din
ler." Almira Loveday had declared when
she first took up her abode at the home,
AN ! for one was never brought up TO
,ech doins.
SO it happened that during the years Of
Ter constant attendance at the little
,haDel she had dressed for the occasion
with the minutest care paid to her toilet
md also strict regard to the eXigencies
IF the weather beyond doors. If the Sky
we're lowering she donned her second-best
clothes with Spartan-like firmneSs and
carried an umbrella which might be IN
'urled should occasion demand. If ii
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