The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, 1916-12-28
spend the best Thanksgiving she

'I shan't change my mind" said
Martha decidedly. "You can write
and tell her she can have my half
of the room on Thanksgiving day.
Don't cry about it, Mrs. Lloyd,
and, 10, | don't want YOU to thank
me. It's not because I'm kind heart
ed, for I'm not. I'm dreadful BIT
ter. | do it gladly because | want
to 90 away from here
Those are the words that Martha
Butterworth spoke, but even as she
uttered them she felt tremor OF
fear for the future. In leaving the
detested home she was throwing
away the last defense between her
frail body and-the poorhouse.
On Thanksgiving day there was a
feast in the long dining room down
stairs. After the long dinner was
over the old ladies g; ,cred in the
stiff splendor of the parlor, where a
great fire had been kindled on the
hearth, and they told stories and
jokes, and there were much laugh
ter and funmaking. Then Mrs.
Green asked Martha Butterworth to
play something for them.
To everybody's surprise Martha
went to the piano without a word
and, sitting down before it, played
one thing after another until each
old lady had had her favorite piece
played or her favorite song sung.
At last Martha's fingers strayed into
a melody that she had not dared re-
member for ten years. 1t was her
husbands Darius) favorite song
and one she had played for him
times without number. Now her
voice was somewhat broken, but it
was still penetratingly sweet, and it
pierced through the walls of the
home, and a man passing dele ted
ly along the sidewalk heard it, stop
ped short and mounted the steps of
the home and rang the bell.
Mrs. Green, the matron, came
into the parlor again and looked
strangely, doubtfully, at Martha
Butterworth, who was still at the
piano.
Somebody wants to see you, Mrs.
Butrerworth," she said meaningly.
A man was waiting in the dining
room "a tall, white haired, pale
faced man, well dressed and pros
porous looking. He looked once at
Martha as she entered and held out
his arms. Martha stared at him
with unbelieving eyes, for it was
her husband, Darius Butterworth.
In another instant she was in his
arms and Darius was telling his
story.
One of the women relatives had
scolded Darius well that day when
ruin fell upon him, and she had told
him that the best thing he could do
was to take himself away where he
couldn't do any more harm to his
wife's interests or happiness. Of
course the relative was sorry after
ward, but then it was too late, for
poor Darius had taken his worth
less mining stock and departed for
the west, where for years he strug-
g1ed for living, while he patiently
Investigated every mine until at last
he found one that really held out
prospect of paying dividends to its
trusting stockholders. That was the
beginning of the fortune that Dari-
us had piled up from several Of his
so called "worthless certificates"
When he had regained the fortune
he had lost he went back to his old
home only to find that his wife had
disappeared after five years, and,
while 1t was known that she nad en-
tered home somewhere, she had
taken no one into her confidence.
Darius had been wandering discon-
solately through the street that
Thanksgiving night when he had
recognized his .wife's voice singing.
"And I believed that l didn't have
a thing to be thankful for" said
Martha remorsefully.
'This'll be the haopiest Thanks
giving my sister Hannah ever had,"
confded old Mrs. Lloyd to the wo-
men about the hearth fire. 'Mar-
tha Butterworth's going to leave,
and Hannah's going to take her