The gazette-times. [volume] (Heppner, Or.) 1912-1925, 1914-05-14

to sit with you all the afternoon, while
Miss Vaughn takes walk. 3"
He shook his head and smiled family,
recalling the physician IS parting words.
"The doctor won't let you stay in
here, mother; you re too sweet"
"You dear little knight" exclaimed
the nurse. "You've been such coed
patient that l think you are just as
sweet as-as-"
She paused a moment to find the
adequate simile.
GAS junketi" suggested Boy polite
lly. "That's sorter sweet, about like
me. Though, of course mother thinks
I'm as good as the best things-apple
turnovers, cocoanut cake, and custard
pies (only don't like to eat those at
picnics cause it muses. my ears), and
blackberry dumplin', and chewin
gum fore you've chewed the taste out,
and all tho things you get at soda
water fountains-and 'speshly ice-
cream"
His voice grew eager over the
nomenclature.
"There's heaps of good things that
amt sweet, too. Turkey and rice and
gravy and fish and peanuts and sam
wiches and hot waffles and pickles
And all the things me and Dick
French ct outdoors, mos ripe apples
and raw turnips and that rabbit Dick
killed with his rifle and we cooked
him ourselves. Mos everything's fine
when you're WELL And one time Dick
|-D
"Don't talk quite so much dearie,
you will tire yourself. Your mother
wants to read to you now"
Boy flared into unexpected rebellion,
contrary to his inherent gentleness
IL don't want to hear any stories.
I'm SO tired of 'em." A happy thought
struck him. "You never have read
me any out of your cook book, mother;
read me some Of that"
Miss Vaughn nodded to the mother
to acquiesce, and she brought the
book before she left them to take her
walk.
Boy selected the recipes and his
mother read the directions for max
ing each of his favorite dishes, until
at last his eyes grew heavy, his breath
ing regular, and he slept.
Alone in the quiet room, watching
the easy respiration, the moisture on
the brow, she rejoiced that the days
were past in which the thermometer
verdict made necessary the dreaded cold
baths. She tried to say psalm of
thanksgiving, yet she realized con-
straining dumbness, even as she had
felt during the worst period of her
boys illness The future, all unknown,
through what pain and stress might he
have to pass to find again the portals
which were then open to the touch of
his unsullied handf So in those days of
anguished suspense she had fought with
herself not to utter the cry of her soul
that he might live, but no other words
had seemed to flow from the springs of
her heart through her white lips.
Now as she mechanically repeated,
"Who redeemeth thy life from destruc-
ton, who crowneth thee with loving
kindness and tender mercies," she felt
shocked to realize that while her lips
were framing David's words, her heart
was echoing the feeble query:
"'Choc lit and vanilleri"
Suddenly, passionately, she fell upon
her knees.
"Oh, Father, please let him have ice
cream Christmas day! He has been SO
patient, give him this little happiness on
Thy Sons birthday! For the sake of
the Blessed Christ Child. Amen"
A rain of healing tears melted the
control in which she had armored her
self. Never since her own childhood
had she felt SO near to the love that
understands "knowing our childish,
ness.
The nursery echoed with the laugh
ter and chatter Of Bertha and May, with
their dolls and bears and bulging stock
ings. Boy looked with quiet pleasure
at the gifts friends and kindred had
sent in generous measure, but there was
question in his eyes. He hated to