The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1901-06-07
CHAPTER TX.

of Rice Corners there was such hook
Of quiet happiness on her face that even
Mr.. knight noticed It. As they rode on
Mary fancled that the country looked
pleasanter aud the houses better than
in the region Of the poorhouse; and when
sudden turn OF the road brought into |
view a beautiful blue sheet Of water, em-
bosomed by bright green hills, her delight
knew no bounds. Springng up and point
ing toward it, she exclaimed: "Oh please
stop moment and look. Isn't it loyelyY |
What is it?"
"That? Oh, that's nothing but 'Por-
dunk Pond or as folks most generally |
call 'em, seein' there's two, North and
South Pond"
"How far Is the pond from Mrs. Ma
son's" asked Mary, casting longing |
glances toward the distant sandy beach |
and the graceful trees which dropped
over the waters edge.
ITS farther back than 'tis there, cause |
it's uphill all the way" said Mr.. knight, |
"but here we be at Miss Masons-this |
house right here" and he pointed to a
neat, handsome cottage, almost hidden
from view by the dense foliage which !
surrounded it.
There was long lawn In front and
into the carriage road on the right of 1t
Mr.. Knight turned, and driving up to n
side door, said to Mary, Come, jump
down, for my foot is so lame don't be-
lieve I'll get out. But there's your chest
You can't lift that. Halloo! Judith,
come ere"
In answer to this call a fat, pleasant
looking colored woman appeared in the
doorway, and as If fresh from the regions
of cookdom wiped the drops of perspra
tiOn from her round, jolly face.
Here, Judith" said Mr.. Knight, 'help
this gal lift her traps out"
Judith complied, and then bidding old
Charlotte to ''get up" Mr.. Knight drove
away, leaving Mary standing by the
kitchen door.
"Come in and sit down." said Judith,
pushing a chair toward Mary with her
foot. Its as hot here as an oven, but
had crambry sass and ginger snaps, and
massy knows what, to make this morning
and | got belated; but set down and
make yourself to home"
Mary took the proffered seat and then
Judith left the room for a few moments,
saying when she returned that, as Mrs.
Mason was still suffering from head
ache, she could not see Mary until after
dinner. And" continued Judith, "she
told me to entertain you, but don't know
what to say nor do first. Harry died
just a week to a day before he was to be
married, and so | never had any little
girls to talk to. Can't you think of some
/ thing to talk about? What have you
been used to doingY
"Washing Dishes" was Mary's reply,
"Wall," answered Judith, 81 guess you
won't have that to do here for one night;
! when some of the neighbors were In
heard Miss Mason tell em that she got
you to read to her and wait on her. And
! then she said something about your not
having an equal chance with your sister.
You han't but one, now t'other's dead,
have your
Mary replied in the negative, and Ju-
dith continued: "Wall, now you've got
over the first ont, | reckon you's glad
the baby's dead for she must have been
kind Of a bother wasn't sheF'
Instantly Mary's thoughts few back to
an empty cradle, and again little golden
thead was pillowed upon her breast, as
often in times past it had been, and as
it would never be again. Covering her
face with her hands, she sobbed, "Oh,
Allie, Allie! | wish she hadn't diedp'
Judith looked on in amazement, and for
want of something better to do placed
fresh stick of wood in the stove, mutter-
ing to herself, Nov, | never! | might
of knew didn't know what to say. What
a pity Harry died. I'll give her that big
ginger snap the minute it's baked See if
| don't"
Accordingly, when the snap was done,
Judith placed it in Mary's hands, bidding
her eat it quick, and then go up and see
the nice chamber Mrs. Mason had ar
ranged for her.
Come" said Judith; and leading the
way, she conducted Mary up the stair
case, and through light, airy hall to the
door of a small room, which she opened
saying, Look, amt it pretty?"
Mary's heart was too full to speak, and
for several minutes she stood silent. With
the exception of her mothers pleasant
parlor in old England, she had never be-
fore seen anything which seemed to her
so cosy and cheerful as did that little
room, with its single bed, snowy counter
pane, muslin curtains, clean mating, con-
venient toilet table, and what to her was
fairer than all the rest, upon the mantel-
piece there stood two small vases, filled
with sweet flowers, whose fragrance fill
ed the apartment with delicious perfume.
All this was so different from the bare
walls, uncovered floors and rickety furni-
ture of the poorhouse that Mary trem-
bled lest it should prove a dream from
which ere long she would awake.
When Mary was finally sent for by
Mrs Mason she had be en- so much accus-
toned to sick persons hat she knew in
tuitively just what to do and when to
do it, and her step was so light, her voice
so low, and the hand which bathed the
aching head so soft and gentle in its touch
that Mrs. Mason involuntarily drew her
to her bosom, and kissing her lips, called
her her child, and said she should never
leave her; then, laying back in her easy
chair she remained perfectly still, while
Mary alternately fixed her hair and
smoothed her forehead, until she fell into
a quiet slumber, from which she did not
awake until Judith rang the bell for sup
per- which was neatly laid out IN little
dining parlor, opening into the flower gar.
den. There was something so very social
; and cheering In the appearance Of the
: room, and the arrangement of the table,
: with its glossy white cloth, and dishes Of
/: the same hue. that Mary felt almost as
r much like weeping as she did on the Il .ht
: ot her arrival at the poorhouse. But Mrs.
, Mason seemed to know exactly how to