The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1912-12-24
TEE EVENING STORY
A Christmas Offering.

something's squash, a few eggs, or
! a fowl And he looked straight at me
/ when he said it. Right straight"
Miss Indy admonished her hand
/ bred pulIets, Billy, Ben and Nick. Of
ficially they were William Taft Ben
jamin Tfllman and Car Nicholas
which array sufficiently attests the
| range of Miss Lindy'S lillingS, also how
| little she was bound by conventions.
Tall and spare, with iron-gray hair,
rosy weatherbeaten face, a smile at
once merry and frosty, she was easily
the character of Holmedell, partly be-
cause of herself, more because of her
| occupation.
! She was a gardener by choice, low
ing growing things with a passion
born of knowledge to which they re-
| sponded almost magically. At first
folk had looked askance-but few
seasons had shown them it was not
worth while. Miss Indy loved out
doors-she did better work than any
man available, and for less. But she
made enough to live in comfort i'll the
| tiny gray house which YVES her sole
buy the vacant lot next to it, and
| garden there only for herself. She
would even have risked going in debt
for it. but it could not be sold. 1t
dry legal knots. Title could not pass
until the heir to it was twenty-five.
AS to the heir-nobody knew much
the adviser, old man Enright, had
1
daughter Phoebe. Phoebe had died
so much was certain-but whether
leaving son or daughter nobody had
| ever heard.
Miss Indy had only a scrap of yard
| front or back. 1t was mainly sand,
which made the black richness of the
vacant lot, with its wealth of tall
| weeds, more tantaliZing. 1t was stout
ly fenced. and trespassing forbidden.
But its next neighbor made hidden
breach in the fence, crept through and
pillaged earth for her pot plants at
need. Also, when the hand-breds
were full feathered and swift running,
| she had let them have the freedom of
it, joying in their joyous slaughter of
crawling and creeping things.
| st know right well-he meant me-
and you,'' she repeated, adverting
again to the young minister's plea for
| Christmas charity. She rarely went
to church-never without, as she
phrased it, paying for her seat. She
| was saving up for the lot-denying
| herself in a thousand ways, though not
! suffering actual privation. Still, the
| pullets had been pampered in unheard
| of fashion-she bought buttermilk for
| them regularly, and suet, also meaty
| bones, oftener than she got meat for
| herself. They had been given her by
| one of her patrons who wanted to be
| rid of them. And they were the first
living thing Miss Indy had tolerated
within her gates since her grandfath
er, old and cranky, had been taken
!
| "Now-if that man had said a pot
| o. green stuff" she began, nodding
| harder than ever.
| Nick interrupted her by flying upon
| her shoulder, and running an imperti-
nent head under her hair. Nick was
rather more than half-grotn. plump
| and pretty, copper colored with brown
! flecks, and a handsome If rudimentary
! Benny, of a deep red coat, scowled
com plainingIy, being jealous of the
audacious Nick, and sided against
Miss Lindy's feet. 1t was hardly sun
! down, but she knew they were sleepy,
in spite of the long December nights.
| This was the twenty-third. With sort
, of satisfied sigh, Miss Indy recalled
| it. She was always glad when light
er the time of growth. STOPPING she
! picked up the other pullets, and bore
them, cuddled in her arms, to their
| perch in the back. 1t was a lilac,
| very old and scraggy, which only the
| most tender care kept alive. She set
| them arrow, gave each a loving pat,
then went in; shaking her head and
laughing softly: Fowl indeed!' she
thing that could get one of them"
| nodding toward her pets, 'away from
| me-
| Next day she was too driven to think
| of Christmas. So many last touches
had to be given in so many gardens.
| Besides, she rarely made a special
preparation. Good things cost money
| plain ones would stay hunger as
we'll So, though she had curds and
| cracked wheat for the chickens, she
provided only potatoes, bread and the
least scrap of sausage for herself. She
/ breakfaSted so late an apple sufficed
! for her luncheon, feeding her pets
! afterward, stroking their fine feathers
and holding them by turns upon her
/ knee.
At dusk, when they were grooming
7 l. H.
door stood two persons, young. hand
| some, but spent, and hollow-eyed.
| The girl swayed a 1ittle-the lad held
her in the crook of his arm, as he
said:
please take us in. We've have
no money-but-she breaking
off there, biting tremulous lips.
Miss Indy flung wide the door. He
| bore his fainting burden inside, laid
! her upon a lounge, and knelt beside
her, crying hushedIy, Darling, don't
go-and leave me-
Half an hour later Miss Indy stood
| shaking all over. The pair was starv-
! ing. They had not said so, but she
knew. They had told her of tramp
! ing all day-many days-their money
had given out-they had slept under
gentlefolk, even as she herself was.
| she could not bare their extremity to
! any neighbor. All shops were shut,
even the inn would hardly yield any
! they might have it and welcome, only
! they could go no further. Why had
MT she provided something? Think
| of having only bread and potatoes for
| Christmas! A chicken-she shudder-
| ed, shut her eyes tight and went out
to where her pets sat with heads I'M
der the wing.
Still unseeing, she clutched one,
! choosing at random, Rugged it with a
| passion of remorse, and turned it in
side. The lad must kill it-that was
| beyond her-but she could never let