The log cabin Democrat., 1907-09-12
THE LOVING CUP
 By Ida Alexander

| had dwindled down to one. There had been no others in the long three weeks, yet ne had never before been alone since his illness began. The trained nurse had always been at hand. firm, capable, noiseless. He did not exactly like her. He had sent her fer walk, noting with quick, professional eye, the girls pale cheeks. He knew the ease had been trying one. At any moment she might come back; there was no chance of her forgetting one dose Of the nauseous medicine He turned to look at the clock. No, there were yet 90 minutes, and it was not likely she would return before that time.
 He gave himself up to thought, and the thoughts were not pleasant. How easily he had dropped out of the lives of his people! How little 1t would have mattered if he had left them for ever, He had been such a careful shepherd that he had begun to look on the sheep as his own. We'll, they had all forgotten him
 The doctor moved restlessly. Why, even his present illness had been caus- ed by working for others. Five hours he had fought for the life of little half-drowned baby. When the fight was won and the thanks of the mother still echoed in his ears, he had met Mrs. Davis hurrying in search of him.
 It was not such long walk to the little cottage where wee Pinky Davis lay struggling for his breath. but the night had been cold, bitterly cold. And then-well, even to himself he had never quite acknowledged that the chill which ushered in pneumonia had been caused by making Mrs. Davis put on his heavy oyercoat Whatever the cause, the effect was only too apparent. It had taken but three weeks to undo the work of 30 years.
 Something very like a tear was try ing to find it's way from the little doc tors trembling eyelid, but he forced It back, and the voice which answered the nurses gentle tap was steady. She came in flushed and animated i've had the best walk" she said,
 And I've brought you a basket of daffodils-the darlings May l bring them in?"
 Thank you, if you will be so good ' answered the doctor. "Why do you ask permission?"
 Well, at first you made me take some flowers away. I suppose I ought not to have bothered you with them, but nearly every one is so pleased to have them. Don't you like fowers?'
 "Why, yes," said the doctor, T am very fond of flowers. T."
 But somehow he could not bring himself to explain to this matter-of- fact young woman that he had sent them away because none of his people had cared enough for him to bring him any. Medicine first, then daffo- dils,' said the nurse, smilingly. When she came back with her basket of the flowers the big doctor sat by the bedside.
 Another present for the popular patient?" he asked. Why, that re- minds me I have package and let ter I'll get them. I've left them downstairs with my coat"
 The little old doctor broke the seal with an apology He could hardly wait to read the letter Miss Lydia Dolli- yer had traced it in her stiff penman- ship, of a fashion long gone by. He read:
 Dear Friend This loving cup is sent to you by all of us who love you Every one gave something, from Pinky Davis, who gave bis candy penny, to Malachi Boone, who gave $50. Now that the danger is past, I'll tell you how we came to get it. We thought you were going to die. I put my apron over my head and l cried-cried as haven't cried since well. no matter Every one was doing the same. By ones and twos they kept coming over until it was like a party for numbers, and a funeral for faces. Then I told them about flowers. In that way we could show you what we have never showed you, knowing all the time in my heart that then it would be too late. But when the news came that you were going to live-then I can't tell you. But I think we cried as much | as at first So God bless you. I SUD- pose you knew there were many who honored you. But I believe in telling | before it is too late"
 There was something about the lit | tie doctors face as he finished the letter which made the nurse retreat | with her basket of daffodils. But the big new doctor cut the string of the | package, and passed it unopened to | the hands which released the letter. Come, come!" he said at last, gruf- | fly, through the catch in his throat. This will not do-will not dol What are these precious neighbors of yours