Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1906-12-22

in the psrlor was Baby Beth's
Il Christmas tree, just as 1t had been
arranged Il week ago-blsque doll,
toys, glittering balls, marvellous sugar
dogs and bears and ''elphunts," candy
apples and hearts popcorn colorsd tapers
just ready to be lighted-and upstairs
Baby Beth was dying. All week long,
with the ferceness of tigress fighting
for her young, Margaret Thorne had
fought for her chlld's life. From the mo-
ment that the first hoarse cough smote
upon her ear and Beth had said, MAN
ma, it hurts me here when | 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 easier2' she had ask
ed, and the doctor had answered briefly,
Yes" Then, after an interval OF walt
ing Wasn't Der breathing less labored?"
The doctor made no reply.
Doctor" piteousiy, don't you think
she is better2"
Dr. Lemoyne turned away. He had
practiced many years, and witnessed
many scene like this, but to his kind
heart each one was new.
MY child" he said, she will never be
any better-she IL dying"
Margaret Thorne made no outcry, shed
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 I'M
pulse to take her and go somewhere
anywhere-away from everybody. 1t was
the instinct of the wounded animal. Then
she fell into the monotonous 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 be better off In heaven"
as the phrase goes, crept about the room
weeping softly with aching hearts. AZ
ter time Margaret looked up.
Doctor" she asked, ''how longF"
Il can hardly tell" he answered. but
only a few hours at best, think"
She turned to the women.
Send for her father" she said briefly.
There was a slight stir of surprise. Sig
nifcant chances passed from one to 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 nc
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 81
lently wrung his hand. Margaret looked
up with a slight movement of the head
but did not offer him her hand
Margaret" he said, ''it was very gooC
of you to send for me-"
at was only right" she said. her voic,
hardening in her efforts to steady 1t Ssh,
is your child, too
He made no effort at conversation, an,
so they sat, the silence of death upol
them. 1t grew oppressive, The women
one by one, stole out Of the room, an
the doctor finally muttered someth!n
about going into the library to lie down
telling them to call him IL there shout
be any change. The two were left alon
with the dying child.
1t was a strange scene. Each held
baby hand each with burden Of grie
unutterable bent over the little form an
watched the flickering life go out; an
each shut up and doublelocked and boil
ed the heart that the other shsuId DC
know what was therein. They were b.
q hands breadth apart, but between thei
was a great gulf fixed
John Thorne had not seen his ehil
I since that never~to-be-torsoeSend day whs
d. .ova hAy ana hia horuA inn Aar~a p~f
hands ami went forth alone. How he h
ionged for skshk OF The baby tAcA, Z
a touch Of the baby hands, none but hin
: self would ever know. But he had bss
too proud to ash 20 see Der, and Ma
garet had said In bitter scorn, IL b d
way of tie sex. A woman would nsv'
have forvotssa AsF own cAiiA" And d
had ciaspsd Beth pas~souAbsfy b b