Middletown transcript., 1903-05-23
The Little Sister.

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The house in which the liatle sister
lived was one SO dreary in appearance,
SO hidden in grove of gloomy trees,
that you would almost hope that it did
not shelter a child. The shaggy ever
green's were Of size that told you that
the planter OF them must be dead or very
old. Not enough of the spirit was left
which had inspired their planting to
prompt thinning or pruning. But if you
had thought that house was SO shadowed
and grave that only an old couple oc-
cupied it, or two old maids, perhaps,
you would have been mistaken. Chill
dren did live there, three children, OF
whom the eldest, the little sister, was
but IA years old.
It was Christmas eve In the house
behind the trees, instead Of happines, a
whole years misery seemed eliminating.
In all the other houses Of the street the
people were asleep, while the dolls and
nutcrackers and tinsel angels talked and
danced in the usual Christmas fashion
OF angels, crackers and dolls. In this
house OF which we are speaking there
were no dolls, no magic. Those who
were awake were ordinary human suf-
ferers. There were no trees, nor wreaths,
nor tissue paper, nor narrow blue ribbons
and only the everyday stockings with
holes. They could not have had the
tree up in the very room where the man
was dying, and it would have been SO
unkind to him to have had it anywhere
else! So that Christmas evening one
child cried herself to sleep, and another
who could not sleep and was weary of
crying, lay wakeful and silent. Every
other moment this child shivered; she
wished that she, too, might die.
The little sister was asleep. The door
was open between the big square nursery
where the children lay in their small
iron beds and the little sisters room.
Both rooms opened into corridor.
The nursery clock struck IL, then l,
then 2. The sister was dreaming; al
ways the same dream; she was standing
at the front door to say good-by to him
that is-to the one who was dying. His
face was turned away and she was crying
and begging him to come back. She
implored him over and over again: Won't
YOU come back? No, must go. Good
by. Oh stay! No, good-by.
Then he would turn, go down the steps
down the path, through the gate and
vanish from her sight. Had she been
unkind? she would wonderin her dream;
he looked so grave, so sad.
The little sister woke up and felt very
weak. Her hands were squeezed tight
together just as they had been when she
went to bed, and she folded them again
and finished the ejaculation that had
been on her lips before she went to sleep;
Not tonight, please; not tonight. Just
think of the children! They are so little.
She sat up, repeating her litany, and
looking about her. She could just dis
tinguish the objects in the room by the
light Of few stars that were visible from
the north window. She went to the
nursery window and looked out into the
garden. From the window of the room
above a stick of light from the night
lamp was thrust out into the misty dark
ness, across the dipping, black body OF
fir tree. She listened to the sounds, and
first, she heard the noise Of dropping
water as the snow melted from the roof;
then in the distance came the barking ol
dog, and at the same time, farther up
the road, she heard a horses hoof clat.
tering on the stones. The watcher in
the sick room above her walked across
the floor and the rafters shook slightly.
When she heard the step upstairs the
little sister went to the door that opened
into the corridor; presently she heard
two people talking to each other, and
one of them said:
Do you think he is better?
No, no better, replied the other
Is he failing?
am afraid that he is.
The little sister put on over her long
white night gown red dressing gown
which had been bought for her when
she was 10 years old land that was four
years before the Christmas of which we
are speaking), and slipped her feet into
pair of felt slippers big enough for a
man. She was funny little gypsy, with
food of black hair down her back over
the red gown. In her wistful white face
shone two dark eyes with dilated pupils
that looked fairly blind with pain.
There was camphor-wood chest i'll
the nursery; she knelt down beside it,
and while she held up the lid with her
forehead she took out parcels and ex
amined them by the rays cast by the
; wick of small oil lamp she had just
lighted. The big wardrobe looked very
black at that time of year, the mante
and wainscoting cold and white. and
while the night was so black and endless
like the night of whole year, the lamI
J seemed to burn as plainly as though lit IN
midday.
was the only one who remembered
said the little sister, setting the lamp OIL
the very edge of the open chest, thui
singeing her flannel gown and black hair
7 She took out the brown packages and
placed them on the floor.
Everyone else has forgotten that it Ii
Christmas eve except the children and
t me- We could not forget it, and | have
all the presents ready for everyone
> Most Of the things made myself; the
children had not an idea of it. The doll'i
furniture is much prettier than thought
, the glue looks like varnish.
: As long as the little sister lives she will
never forget the list of presents: For the
, child who loved to write, desk. Fol
the pretty little girl with rosy cheeks, 9
! blue enamel forget-me not ring. Innum