The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1906-12-20

n I was New Years eve. Downstairs
in the parlor was Baby Beth's
Christmas tree, just as it had been
arranged a week ago-bisque doll,
toys, glittering balls, marvellous sugar
dogs and bears and ''elphunts," candy
apples and hearts, popcorn, colored tapers
just ready to be lighted-and upstairs
Baby Beth was diving. All week long,
with The 6erceness of a tigress fighting
for her young, Margaret Thorne had
fought for her child's life. From the mo-
ment that the first hoarse cough smote
upon her ear and Beth had said, Mann
ma, it hurts me here when l toff," she
had lost no time. All that doctors,
nurses, servants, friends-mother love
could do had been done, and now in her
darkened chamber the mother sat with
her baby on her knees and waited. To-
ward night a change had come. The
harsh cough ceased. the painting breath
came more quietly.
Didn't she seem easier?" she had ask
ed. and the doctor had answered briefly,
Yes Then, afte an interval of wait
ing, Wasn't her breathing less labored?"
The doctor made no reply.
Doctor" piteously, don't you think
she is betteri"
practiced many years. and witnessed
many a scene like this, but to his kind
heart each one was new.
my child.' ne said, "she will never be
any better-she is dying"
Margaret Thorne made no outcry, she'd
no tear-she would have tomorrow and
all after life for tears" to-day she had
her baby. She bent over the child and
half stretched out her arms with the inn
pulse to take her and go somewhere
anywhere--away from everybody. 1t was
the instinct of the wounded animal. Then
she fell into the 1onotonous swinging mo-
ton of The knees, familiar to mothers,
patting her little one softly the while as
If she were putting her to Sleep
1t was heart-breaking. The women to
whom the child was only a dear little
baby who would lie better off in heaven"
as the phrase goes, crept about the room
~eeIing softly with aching hearts. At
ter time Margaret looked up.
"Doctory" she asked, how long?
Il can hardly tell" he answered, "but
only few hours at best, think"
She turned to the women
.Send for her father,- she said briefly.
There was slight stir of surprise. Sig
nificant glances passed from one IL an
other behind her bowed head. Then they
went out to do her bidding.
The message was quickly sent and as
quickly answered. The case brooked no
delay. Margaret Thorne heard the ia
miliar step in the hall, then in the room
below. A moment later he came in. The
women spoke to him in the sympathetic
key OF the sick room and the doctor ST.
GENTLY vrung his hand. Margaret looked
up with a slight movement of the head,
but did not offer hill her hand.
Margaret" he said, 1t was very good
of you to send for me-,
1T was only right" she said, her voice
hardening in her efforts to steady il "she
L. your child, too"
He made no effort at conversation. and
% they sat, the silence Of death uuon
them 1t grew oppressive. The women,
one by one, stole out of the room, and
the doctor finally muttered something
about going into the library to lie down.
telling them to call him If there should
! be any change. The two were left alone
with the dying child
1t was a strange scene. Each held a
sbaby hand; each with burden of grief
.unutterable bent over the little form and
watched the Pickering life go out: and
each shut up and double-locked and bolt
ed the heart that the other should not
know what was therein. They were but
q hands breadth asart, but between them
yyas a great gulf fixed
John Thorne had not seen his child
since that forgotten day when
he gave her and his home into Margaret's
hands and went forth alone. How he had
longed for sight of the baby face, for
a touch of the baby hands, none but him
self would ever know. But he had been
too proud to ask TO see her, and Mar
garet had said in bitter scorn, TT is the
way of the sex. A woman would never
have forgotten her own child And she
had clasped Beth passionately to her
heart and cried out, IL will be father and
mother both to you, my baby, my poor,
forsaken baby
As he bent over her now, all his heart
In his eyes, a strange feeling of doubt be-
gan tugging at her heart. Had he really
loved the child like this? Uncomfortable
regrets took possession of her. Could she
have misjudged hiIa? She might have sent
Beth to see him occasionally, 1t seemed
to her now, when she had her all the
time. He had been more generous than
she.
She glanced furtively at him. He rest
ed his head on his right hand his left
clasping Beth's. His eyes were fixed on
the child as il he would in these few mo-
ments left feast his famished heart upon
that which had been so long withheld
Something in his position made Margaret
think of one other night when they had
sat like this and watched Beth through
the Group, and how they had felt that if
God would only spare her they could
have nothing In life to trouble them again.
How gentle and tender John had been
that night.
And then there was the time that Beth
was burned and john mad walked with
her the whole night long and would not
even let the mother rest him, because she
was weak and he was strong, he mad
said. How the memories came thronging
upon her! Oh, il she could only wake
and find that this year had been dream
a horrible dream-and there had been
no quarrel!
The clock licked on, the FIRE sputtered