The San Angelo press. (San Angelo, Tex.) 1897-1907, 1903-11-04
MARGARET'S
VACATION
By Virginia Barlow lie icy

"Sixty dollars I've got it this
time, and now / can look forward
to a fine time this summer"
Margaret Driscoll walked rapidly
up and down her room, thoughts
of her summer vacation lifting
through her mind and anticipations
of delight filling her soft brown eyes
with light good to see.
Margaret, among her other du-
ties, was a friendly visitor Of the
Associated Charities Of Pluinville,
and old Mrs. Raeburn was under her
sympathetic ministry.
Margaret had loved her from the
start, and her visits were always
sunshine to both of them. Today
as she walked up the little path
there were no friendly eyes watching
for her, no outstretched hands to
welcome her. Filled with forebod-
ings, she raped softly, then went
in.
On the great four posted bed lay
the frail old lady. All the life and
animation seemed departed from
her. Only her great hungry eyes
looked out on Margaret with visit
fulness so pathetic it was heart
breaking.
"Dear Miss Margaret, dear Miss
Margaret, you'll save me! You won't
let them send me to the poorhouse?"
Here her voice, eager and shrill,
quavered and broke, while hot tears
rolled from the sunken eyes.
In spite of Margaret's efforts to
soothe her, she raised up in bed, her
eyes growing wild in the hopeless
ness of desperation, while her words
rolled out incoherently: "I've only
a little while longer to live. / love
this little home. It's part of me.
l couldn't bide the poorhouse. Oh,
Miss Margaret, / mustn't go there!
| couldn't meet Jim in heaven if !
went there. All my life have tried
so hard to do right. I've tried to be
respectable and hold up my head
even when things looked dark. For
Gods sake, Miss Margaret, let me
die here in my little home, where
my flowers are. p
Here her strength gave out, and
she sank back exhausted on her pill
low. After the wildness of her grief
had spent itself Margaret got the
story from her-how Mr.. Emery,
who owned the house, had come to
see her and told her that the new
law stated that people who were UNI
able to help themselves and who had
no relatives to surrort them must
now 60 to the poorhouse, that she
would be better off there and that
she must make up her mind to go
soon.
"NIiss Margaret'-here thin hand
caressed the girls brown hair as she
bent over the old lady-"the Associ-
ated Charities will help me to keep
this little home, won't they? You
can tell them that | won't live long
and that these things can be sold.
and that will pay them back"
Don't fret any more, dear Mrs.
Raeburn," said Margaret as she
smoothed her pillow and straight
ened out the bedclothes. 81 think
we can fix it all right for you. There
is meeting Of the Associated Chart
ties tomorrow. | will go and tell
them about it, and | know they will
make it all right. Now, promise me
you won't worry any more and that
when l come to see you tomorrow
evening you will be my dear sun
shiny friend, eager for good sto-
ry."
81 knew you would straighten it
out. Mr.. Emery frightened me. l
couldn't follow him"
She closed her eyes with one
grateful pressure of Margaret'S
hand, who hurriedly left the house,
going into neighbours to see that
Mrs. Raeburn would be cared for
and then back to her room, where
life once more took on the serious
aspect of previous years, and the
gay prospect of the morning seemed
vague and far away.
The next afternoon Margaret stat
ed her case before the meeting. She
told it as well as she could. pictur-
ing what terrible blow it would
be to the old lady, used to the de-
cencies and refnements of life, SEN
sitive to degree, to be taken from
the little cottage where she lived in
happy self respect to the poorhouse,
where all her happy visions of by
gone days, all her hopes of the fu-
ture, would be blackened by the