The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1906-01-12
He turned to Libby.

move! by inc uTSt VI Mdy
81 suppose So" she answered in a
dull voice.
April came, and for the fiftieth
time the old woman watched the white
give way to the green on the hills
that curved in and out around her
ord home.
AS long as she could, Libby let her
have her dream. Her heart was not
hard toward Ma now. Ma had not
understood. And Libby was glad she
could have those few springs days
before she was torn from the old
home.
Ma she began one morning, 81
think will have to be packing up this
week"
Packing up what?'
why, don't you remember, Ma
we are going to town the first OF
May?"
"Oh, la, Libby! I've give that up
long ago! I'm going to die on the old
place."
"But you know, Ma, the arrange
ments have all been made. I'm afraid
we'll have to 60"
She turned to her GROSSLY.
"Inere's no use to argue wi me.
Libby Anderson amt goin'!"
But what about Dave?"
"You can jest write Dave and say
his mother don't want to leave the
place. Dave won't have nothin'
further to say"
She looked off at the meadowland
as if it were all settled. Libby would
have to tell her.
"Ma," she said, 'it's no use to write
to Dave"
why not?" she demanded in half
frightened, half aggressive voice.
Hes sold the place, Ma"
whats that you say? Something
about Dave selling my place? Are
you gone crazy, Libby?"
"You know you decided it to him,
Ma. 1t was his after you did that.
And he's sold it, and we'll have to
move out"
Hearing no answer she turned
around, and it was then she coveted
Dawes gift of saying things smoothly.
The old woman was crouched low In
her chair, and her face was culver
ing, and looked sunken and gray.
II didn't think he'd do that, she
faltered
never mind Ma" Libby said awK-
wardly. Poor Mai"
It was the nearest to a caress that
had passed between them since Libby
was little girl.
Nothing more was said until after
Ma had gone to bed. Libby supposed
she was asleep, when she called quav-
eringly to her.
Libby" she said, you mustn't be
thinkin' hard of Dave. He must have
thought it for the best"
Libby was used to caring for Ma,
and she needed care now.
Eyes, Ma" she answered, I'm sure
he must"
1t was not until the morning of the
fourth day that the silence between
them was broken. Libby got up to
take down the clock, when she heard
a strange noise behind her, and turn
ing she saw that Mas head was down
low in her hands, and she was rock
ing passionately back and forward
and crying as though her old heart
had broken.
She put down the clock, and again
she wished for little of Dawes sikh
ness of speech. But she did not have
it, and the best she could do was to
pull Mas chair out from the barren
room into the sunshine of the porch.
The hills, she thought, would still
look like home.
Ma did not get up at all the next
day. Perhaps she was i'll, or perhaps
it was only that she did not want to
go out in the sitting room and see how
unlike home it looked. But the next
day she did not get up either, and
then Libby went to town for the doc
tor. He said the excitement had
weakened her, and did not seem very
certain she would ever get up again.
That night Libby wrote letter to
Dave, asking him again to let his
mother die on the old place. A week
passed and an answer had not come,
and still Ma had not left her bed. The
packing was all done, it was just the
first of May and she was just waiting
she did not know for what.
Her whole soul rose up against
moving Ma from the old place now,
when her days were so surely num-
bered, and SO she sent a telegram to
Dave, telling him his mother was i'll
and asking leave to stay little long
er. There came a reply from his part
ner, saying that Dave was away and
would not be home for two weeks.
That night the old woman raised
herself and sobbed out the truth.
TITS Dave that's KILN me! It's to
think Dave sold the place and turned
me out to die"
The disinherited child wrote a let
ter that night and to it she signed