The Savannah morning news., 1901-05-19
A CRADLE SONG.

BY Lillian Knapp Dodd
woman stands in a rose-wreathed
doorway her baby is in her arms; the
morning sunshine lies all about the dewy
grass, and falls softly upon her head.
Her face is almost slrlishly fair and
untroubled; yet hint of anxiety creeps
into the blue eyes as her husband steps
up to pat the baby's velvet cheek, and
kiss his wife good-by
81 am going now, dear" he says; you
must not be lonely to-day"
"No, ! will try; but / can't help think
ing of the money. If anything should
happen to you-oh, John, men have been
murdered for less money than a hundred
dollars"
Nonsense, Jessie; don't let that worry
you al day. ! shall come home safe
enough, though it may be late"
Eyes, it will be late. and the road is
lonely; do be careful, John"
He rides away toward the distant town,
whistling cheerily as he goes; perhaps
because his heart is very light perhaps
to drown the memory of his wife's anxi-
ETY..
He is quite out of sight, when two
tramps lounge slowly up the road and
pause a moment near the little gate.
Better not stop here now, reckon"
says one, whose evil face holds the shad-
ow OF some new and villainous enter
prise
why not?" asks his companion. I'll
stop aud ask the little woman for a bite
of bread or a cup of water; you can
go on to the next house"
81 tell you, itll spoil the game to stop
here; let's be moyin."
"What gamer" asks the second speaker
casting a furtive look at his mate.
You heard what they said as well as
I did. about the money he's gone after
IT'S a hundred dollars. Well watch over
here in the edge of that orchard till he
comes along tonight, then give him a
tap on the head and the moneys ours"
"Who's goln' to give him the tap on the
head? / may steal, but you'll have TO do
the quietin' act, and divvy up fair after
wards. too"
"we'H Ak that but come on now, she'll
see US. Hark!'
sweet, clear voice, somewhere in the
little house, was singing over and over
the familiar. old-fashioned words;
There is a happy land,
Far. far away,
Where saints IN glory stand,
Bright, bright as day.
"she's only singn' her young 'un to
steep; what do you care for that?" says
impatiently the man who will not commit
murder, but who will share the gains Of
any crime-
"Tts mighty pretty singing" answers
the other.V He stands with eyes cast down
digging a hole in the sandy road with
the toe of ragged shoe.
Both wait in silence for moment. one
with evident impatience. the other look
ing suddenly thoughtful. At last the lat,
ter wheels abruptly and walks away
down the road, as II turning his back
upon some memory which II were wise 20
remember no more.
His companion follows more slowly, and
a curve in the road presently hides them
from the little farm house and its in
mates.
The baby is asleep In its mothers arms.
She has put away her fear. The day will
soon pass; with her work and her little
one she will be- too busy for loneliness.
She comforts herself with these thoughts
a she carefully drops the sleeping child
into the pillowed snuggery of its cradle,
and turns with a little half-relieved sign
to the work that is waiting to be done.
She eats her bit OF dinner with baby
on her knee, pulling excitedly at cloth
and plate. and Growing with delight at
the shining spoons, jingIed playfully for
It's especial entertainment.
All day she trips 10 ana fro, In and out,
busy as tho bees and birds. and by much
resolution almost as free from care. She
sings foolish little ditties. made up out
Of her foolish little head. about the time
when papa will come home, and the baby
does not seem disposed 70 criticise either
rhyme or meter, but clasps its tiny hands
and applauds with many a merry shout.
The hours wear away until the sun
drops down the western sky, and the
shadows under the blossoming trees grow
longer every moment.
The hufy yellow chickens have hidden
themselves beneath their mothers wings;
the robins are piping shrlll goodnight