The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1916-07-15
THE CHILDREN'S HOUR.
GOING TO JOHN.

Going north, MADAME?
mo, ma'am."
Going south, then?"
81 don't know, ma'am."
"Why, there are only two ways to
go"
II don't know. I was never on the
cars. I'm waiting for train to go to
John"
John There is no town called
John. Where is it,"
"Oh, John is my son. He's out in
Kansas on a claim"
I'm going right to Kansas myself
You intend to visit?"
mo, ma'am."
She said it with a sigh so heart
burdened the stranger was touched.
John sick?"
mo"
The evasive tone, the look of pain
in the furrowed face were noticed by
the stylish lady, as the gray head
bowed upon the toil-marked hand. She
waited to hear her story; to help her.
Excuse me-John in trouble?"
mo, no, I'm in trouble. Trouble my
old heart never thought to see."
THE train does not come for some
time. Here, rest your head upon my
cloak"
"You are kind. If my own were so
1 shouldn't be in trouble tonight"
what is your trouble? Maybe I
can help you"
Its hard to tell it to strangers, but
my old heart is too full to keep it
back. When / was left widow with
three children, l thought it was more
than l could bear; but it wasn't bad
as this"
The stranger waited till she recov-
cred her voice to go on.
81 had only the cottage and my will
ing hands. 1 toiled early and late all
the years till John could help me.
Then we kept the girls at school,
John and me. They we're married not
long ago. Married rich, as the world
goes. John sold the cottage, sent me
to the city to live with them, and he
went west to begin for himself. He
said we had provided for the girls and
they would provide for me now"
The tears stood in the lines on her
cheeks. The ticket agent came out
softly, stirred the fire, and went back.
After pause she continued:
Il went to Martha s-went with a
pain in my heart l never felt before.
was willing to do anything so as not to
be a burden. But that wasn't it. |
found that they were ashamed of my
bent old body and withered face;
ashamed of my rough, wrinkled hands
made so toiling for them"
The tears came thick and fast now.
The strangers hand rested caressing-
ly on the gray head.
r'At last they told me l must live at
a boarding house, and they'd keep me
there. l couldn't say anything back.
My heart was too full of pain. 1 wrote
to John what they were going to do.
He wrote right back long, kind let
ter, for me to come right to him. l
always had home while he had a
roof, he said. To come right there and
stay as long as l lived. That his
mother should never go out to
strangers. So I'm going to John. He's
got only his rough hands and his
great warm heart; but there's room
for his old mother-God bless him
The stranger brushed a tear from
her fair cheek and awaited the con-
clusion.
Some day when I'm gone where I'll
never trouble them again, Mary and
Martha will think of it all. Some day
when the hands that toiled for them
are folded and still; when the eyes
that watched over them for many a
weary night are closed forever; when
the little old body, bent with the bur-
dens it bore for them is put away
where it can never shame them"
The agent drew his mand quickly
before his eyes, and went out as if to
look for a train The strangers jew
eled fingers stroked the gray locks;
while the tears. of sorrow and the
tears of sympathy fell together. The
weary HedTC Was uHpuIuoHeu. OoOtn0u
by touch of sympathy, the troubled
soul yielded to the longing for rest
and she fell asleep. The agent went
noiselessly about his duties, that he
might not wake her. AS the fair
stranger watched she saw a smile on
the careworn face. The lips moved.
She bent down to hear.
I'm doing it for Mary and Martha
They'll take care of me sometime"
She was dreaming of the days in
the little cottage-of the fond hopes
that inspired her, long before she
learned, with a broken heart, that
some day she would turn homeless in
the world, to go to John.