Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1899-04-01

anu uOne Win IL, wanting 10 ule, 1n-
deedl Don't you know the Lords got
work for you in the world, and it isn't
right for you to die?"
Her voice rose In her indignation
louder than she knew, from the clothes
press where she was extracting her big
gest and warmest gray shawl. When
she turned again toward the bed, two
great tears were stealing from beneath
Ruth's dark lashes and making slow
way down her hollow cheeks. Mrs.
Whitaker groaned and choked and sat
down with the shawl in her arms.
Then, what seemed like a brilliant in
spiration came to her.
"I've got some apple tarts down
stairs; they're brown an crispy, and
there's one that's just about big
enough for little girl. 1 should think
she'd like to have something to eat be-
fore she dies"
The child's mouth moved convulsive-
ly at the corners, but this time it was
not with grief.
"And I've got cooky that's round,
with sugar on the top and hole in the
middle" Mrs. Whitaker smiled broad
ly as Ruth sat up.
"And could 1 take one to mamma,
too?" she asked.
"Oh," answered the triumphant
lady, 'your mamma has everything she
wants in Heaven"
The child smiled. "Then guess I'll
wait till get there, too," she said, and
lay down again.
The shawl twitched in Anne Whitta-
ker's hands; she longed to gather the
forlorn little figure into her arms, but
she did not feel that she could use
force toward the child; she must man.
age her, she had always been so good
a manager.
''Do you know what day it is?" she
asked, presently, feeling her way care
fully.
"Yes, that's why 1 died to-day"
was the answer, still with tight-shut
eyes.
To-day is the day that Christ rose
from the dead to teach us that as He
rose, so shall we all rise" began Mrs.
Whitaker, gently.
Ruth was looking at her now. "But
1 can't rise" she said, plaintively;
"'cause you keep 'sturbing me-"
"You might"-Anne Whitaker drew
a long breath, was it sacrilegious2-
you might play you had been dead
and"-she paused.
A CLEAN of interest shone in Ruth's
face. "But this isn't Heaven" she
protested.
THE Kingdom CT Heaven is within
you," Mrs. Whitaker quoted, with
both freedom and truth, as she ap-
preached the bed with outspread shawl.
"It isn't Heaven, but we might be good
and make it seem like Heaven"
The child put up her hand as if to
ward off the shawl.
But God isn't here and mamma
isn't here"
"God is everywhere" answered Mrs.
Whitaker; and Ruth looked about
half startled. "But He is spirit, and
you can't see Him." She dropped the
shawl over the child now, and as she
wrapped it about her she finished more
softly: "Your mamma isn't here, but
you might play for little while that
was your other mother"
Not my real mother?" Ruth asked,
wistfully.
"Oh no." Mrs. Whitaker said,
hastily; only play mother"
The child said no more, but let her
self be wound up in the shawl and sat
quietly on the edge of the bed while
Mrs. Whitaker brought out a pair of
her long woolen stockings and drew
them over the little, unresisting feet.
There was still slight disappointment
in Ruth's face when the great, gray
shawl was fastened with safety pin
firmly beneath her chin.
"Now be careful when you go down
stairs and keep tight hold of the banis-
ters;" and Mrs. Whitaker came step
behind with firm clutch on the small,
gray-shawled shoulder.
She placed the child in the great
rocking chair in front of the stove and
laid out all her goodies on the table;
apple tarts and cookies and preserves
andcold meat and bread and butter and
rich, warm milk. Then she went up
stairs and brought down an old sacque
of her own that Ruth might put on, and
so have her arms free; and they both
actually fell to laughing as she rolled
and rolled and rolled up the long hang
ing sleeves.
Mrs. Whitaker was amazed and fear
full when she saw Ruth eat; the little
girl, whose mind seemed fixed on
heavenly things, had hearty appetite.
AT last, for fear the child might, in
deed, die from overeating, her hostess
suggested that they rock together in
the chair before the fire.
AT this moment little Ruth looked
up with smile on her face, from which
all traces of disappointment were fast
vanishing. ST think this must be al
most as nice as Heaven; just but for
mamma"
Mrs. Whitaker smiled grimly. "I
guess Heaven is good deal within us,
even with the poorhouse next door"