Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-10-19

of her kitchen door and stand for moment
with her hand shading her eyes.
"Oh, there you are" cried the woman
after she had looked in every direction to
locate the voice. She was small, and trotted
down the long board walk that led to the
barn. Don, the St. Bernard, started to meet
the early visitor. His ominous bark, pref
aced by low growls, caused the woman to
check her steps.
"Don, come here!" commanded Libby.
@I'm ashamed of you! You know Mrs.
Allen
The dog sneaked back and threw his pom
derous body under the buggy shed and
shamefacedly watched his mistress.
"Mor11in', Mrs. Allen," called Libby.
odd Bills ben havin' another one of his
spells. He's better this mornin', though,
leading big black horse, Enthusiastically a
pet out of the barn as her visitor confronted
her. "What's happened, Sally?' asked Lib
by, dropping the halter as she looked into
her neighbours white face.
"Lucy's dead" answered the woman.
Libby Graham started. "Why, | was
over yesterday, and the doctor said she was
better"
@Well, he didn't know, cause she died last
night bout eight.
I'll GO right over said Libby. She
turned in the direction of the potato patch,
where half grown boy was digging, and
shouted, "Jerry! Jerry!' He FASTENED to-
ward her. "I'm goin' over to Butterfield's;
| His wife's dead You can tend Old Bill, and
turn the Plymouth Rocks out bout noon,
| and when you get through with the potatoes
YOU can finish shellin' the corn for hominy.
| III be back fore dark.
"The funerals tomorrer," said Sally Allen,
as the two women walked toward the house,
"and land knows what's to become of them
children! They're awful purity things too.
There hain't no relation to take 'em, on his
side nor hern. No, can't come in, she re-
piled to Libby's invitation. give got to go
home and rid up the house and set out a
| snack fer Mother and Josh fore go back to
Butterfeld's. l stayed there last night.
Jabez takes it awful hard; but, lawsy me!
| he'll git over it. / wouldn't put it past Josh
| Allen to do the same thing eff l was to die.
must go. Goodby."
"Goodby, Sally responded Libby.
| AS soon as Sally Aliens short figure dis
"A appeared, Libby Graham hurried into
the house. She glanced up at the clock,
whose long hand pointed to ten minutes to
seven, and then began to strain the milk
| that she had left to 60 and see Old Bill The
woman almost dropped the last pan as she
set it on the upper pantry shelf. A strange
emotion possessed her and made her trem-
BILE. The expression that lighted up her
brown features could hardly be called an
ordinary smile: it was more of the glow that
comes when the longing of hungry soul is
about to be satisfied.
Presently tears filled her eyes. Wiping
them away with the corner of her apron she
went into a little room, called by herself the
prophets Chamber kept sacred for the
presiding elder and his wife when they came
| to hold conference. With an abandon I'M
known before, she flung herself on her knees
beside the white bed, and brokenly thanked
the Lord. She went out on the back porch
and sopped her face with the icy well water.
Then, with quick movements, she donned
her black alpaca and buff sunbonnet, and,
snatching a handful of candytuft as she
went out the gate, hurried up the dusty road
that led to Butterfeld's, south of town.
If Libby Graham had lived in a city, she
would have been called bachelor girl, but
in Riverton she was an old maid; and if a
hair dresser could have unbound her dark
hair, which looked as if it had been ironed
back off her temples and compressed into the
big hard knot with good deal of physical
force, she might have been called handsome.
She was Immediately neat and secured
looking. She had lived on the edge of the
q ~ Il. G..