The Kendrick gazette. [volume] (Kendrick, Idaho) 1892-1968, 1906-12-21
Little Baby Beth
BY Caroline III. stanley.
81 vi ~ s!ssM9YS

r T was New Years eve. Downstairs
in the parlor was Baby Beth's
i Christmas tree, just as 1t 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 dying. All week long,
with the fierceness 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, NAM
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 donep 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,
Eyes" Then, after an interval Of wait
ing, wasn't her breathing less labored?"
The doctor made no reply.
Doctor" piteously, don't you think
she Is betterF
DIR. Lemoyne turned away. He had
practiced many years, and witnessed
many a scene like this, but to his kind
heart each one was new.
"My child" he said, ''she will never be
any better-she is dying"
Margaret Thorne made no cutlery, 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 Inn
pulse to take her and go some where
anywhere 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 dear little
baby who would be better of In heaven
as the phrase goes, crept about the room
weeping softly with aching hearts. Az
ter time Margaret looked up.
Doctor" she asked, show long?"
II 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 slight stir of surprise. Sig
niicant glances passed from one to an
other behind her bowed head. Then the,
went out to do her bidding.
The message was quickly sent and q
quickly answered. The case brooked n,
delay. Margaret Thorne heard the ia
miliar step In the hall, then In the room
below. A moment later he came in. TIL
women spoke to him in the sympatheti
key of the sick room and the doctor 81
lently wrung his hand. Margaret locke
up with a slight movement Of the head
but did not offer him her hand.
Margaret" he said, at was very goo
of you to send for me-"
''It was only right she said, her voic
hardening in her efforts to steady It; "sh
is your child, too"
He made no effort at conversation, an
30 they sat, the silence Of death upo
them. 1t grew oppressive. The womeI
one by one, stole out OF the room, an
the doctor finally muttered somethin
about going into the library to lie dow
telling them to call him II 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 gri<
unutterabls bent over the little form an
watched the Pickering life go out; an
each shut up and double-locked and boil
ed the heart that the other should NJ
know what was therein. They were b,
hands breadth apart, but between the
was a great gulf fixed.
John Thorne had not seen his chi
since that never-to-be-forgotten day wht
he gave her and his home into Margaret
hands and went forth alone. How he hs
longed for sight of the baby face,
a touch of the baby hands, none but hiI
self would ever know. But he had be,
too proud to ask to see her, and Ma
garet had said in bitter scorn, TT is t
way of the sex. A woman would nev
have forgOeST ,s1er own child" And s.
had clasped pAssionS = h