The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1904-12-09
At Bedtime.

AL DSuLITnes
Lillis, the elf, Struggled up to me on
the broad window seat. She was I'M
commonly human and nice.
what were they?" pressed the elf,
best when you were little grip"
ooh, stories of what my mother did
when she was small-the most COM
monplace little things,-I never tired
of them"
What were they?" pressed the elf,
flinging a little brown stocking and
shoe over my knee.
"Oh, quite dull things. l can't ina
CINE why | liked them so-how she
used to take broken bits of crockery
out on to the rocks in the Maine or
chard and play house.
"How all of the girls had to knit
their own stockings, all but Martha.
She was so small that they didn't
make her knit. But one winter, Moth
,er, the Oldest of the motherless chill
dren, went away for a time, and when
she came back Martha had knitted
two pair of stockings for her cat, so
that pussy's feet shouldn't be cold
when she walked on the snow. After
that little Mat had to knit, for they
said that if she was big enough to
knit stockings for her cat she was
big enough to knit them for herself"
well, what did you use to do when
you were little girl?" says the elf,
beginning to unfasten the top button
of her guimpe.
fOh, can't begin to tell you. There
were the hollyhocks, you know, grow
ing so straight and gay along the
orchard fence. One caught bees in
them, fastened them in with blades
of grass, and listened to the angry
hum within.
"Then there was the grape arbor,
with long, low seats, where we played
house.. and lined the floor with dry
stalks for rushes.
Never mind, that wasn't half as
nice as keeping store at a box counter,
under the Observation-Disclosures
where we sold things for pins, or max
ing houses in the apple trees. Oh,
what lovely green parlors and blue
bedrooms we had, and oh, those yell
low Porters and little wine apples,
crimson as rubies outside, all pink
white within!"
"Tell me good scare story" says
Althea, creeping in, that one about
Mrs. Harrington, you know
mot before the elf" | said severe
ly. "She's too small. After she goes
to bed, perhaps"
"Just one more" says the elf. "and
l won't be scared if you'll leave your
door open and let your light shine
through when I'm in bed" She was in
her little nightgown now, but with
blue eyes very wide, as always as bed
time.
"Well, when l was staying at Aunt
olives that summer, down in Maine
Auntie wanted some raspberries,
the worst kind, and l said that
would go and pick some 1t was
pretty hot, and l hated to pick ber-
ries, but | thought that | would ask
another girl to go with me, and that
we could make nice time of 1t.
But when got up to the girls house
she couldn't go, so l hurried on alone.
Over the summer fields into the cool
woods | went, and along woody
lane, when | heard a noise as of some
ANIMAL a dog, | thought snarl-
at the foot of tree was creature
digging and paving in the ground,
and a more angry creature I'd never
seen. 1t was fairly wild in it's fury.
And then | realized that it looked
queer. Was it a dog or what was
it? Were those spots or stripes?
And then | turned and ran for dear
life, my empty pail swinging, and so
I arrived home again, in safety, but
without, alas! a single berry.
"My good aunt did not scold and
she did not sympathize, and I've new
err known to this day whether l had
an escape or a Stiffness. But the
postmaster did say, day or so later
he had seen panther in one of his
lots the week before"
Good night" says the elf reluct-
antly, "but your stories aren't half
as nice as my mama's. I think. =
Althea L. Hall, in the American Cul.
tivator.