Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-01-18
The Dried Ample Chest.

- ter. She had TAKEN Tue ND
terials from a quaint wooden
IL box that sat before her upon
the sitting room table--sheets
Of family tinted paper, q stick OF
blue wax, a quaint pen that, dipped
In a glass of water. rewarded one
with a flow of mauve ink. She wrote
slowly in fine slanting hand with
little curliCues on her "g's" and ps
and rs" And she wrote painfully
for never In all her life she had any
thing more unpleasant To do than
writing this letter to her nephew's
widow. Lila Garfield.
Eliza was old and tiny with white
hair wound in a sleek little knot.
mouth like a wilted pink and dark
eyes which had once held come
follow-me" look so Irresistible that
she had scarcely been able TO count
her beaus on the fingers of both
hands. But she, as so often happens,
had married the poor stick of the
lot, Fergus Curry-because she loved
him. And that love had weathered
the vicissitudes of 81 difficult married
experience which had terminated sew
eral years before in Fergus death.
During the years of her widowhood
Eliza had managed" She had her
tiny white house and a little money
which she had made last until the
present moment. Now that II was
gone she must sell her house. Indeed,
| the bargain was all but made with
possession to be given Immediately.
In a week, more or less, Eliza would
be leaving the house, which she had
come as Fergus bride. the house
where her three children had been
| born and had died one after the
other, the house where Fergus had
closed his wild, bright eyes, the
| house where she herself had
| hoped to die. Her nephew's widow,
| Lila Garfield, offered her home and
| she was going there: She was writing
| to say that just as soon as she could
get things in shape she would come.
The Spring sun came in at the win
dows holly. and as Eliza wrote she
was conscious of faint. odor all
| through the house, which came not
from her pot-pourri jar, for that was
closed; not from the geranium on the
| sill not from the strong cup of tea
she had brewed for her lunch. She
shifted delicately. All! Now she
knew. It was the smell of apples
dried apples, and it came from the old
chest-of drawers in the spare bedroom
off the sitting room. The door was
80 L ~T s' her Letter she followed
that elusive lure. The old chest-of-
drawers doomed enormous in the tiny
room which she never used because
she had no company of late
years. When Lila came to see
her, as she did once year, she stayed
at the jefferson house. So because
the room seemed good for no other
purpose Eliza kept there her best
frock, her best hat, and in the chest.
of-drawefs she kept her sack of dried
apples.
She opened a drawer and took out
the sack and peeped into it. How
Fergus had loved dried-apple pie with
a bit of boiled cider and cinnamon!
She had always had her sack Of dried
apples on that account. She did not
care much for them herself, either in
pie or sauce. There was quite sack
full OF course she wouldn't need them
now that she was going away. She
wondered what she would do with
them. Maybe Carrie Rush could use
them. She had a big family and any
thing eatable always came in handy
there.
And the chest-of- drawers-the dried
apple chest she called it in her own
mind, She would have to sell it.
Lila had given her permission to bring
few things, but nothing so cumber-
some as this chest. 1t was not so
easy to dispose of that. She sighed
as she gazed at it. 1t was very old.
1t had been in Fergus family. had be
longed to his mother, she thought. or
perhaps his grandmother. 1t was all
handmade, a dark red wood. cherry,
presumably. Well, she would leave
the chest -of-drawers and take the
dried apples over to Carrie Rush so
she could get them ready for supper.
With a shawl around her and the
sack in her hand she went across the
street to, the Rush house. Mrs. Rush
met her Hospitality.
Whats that? Dried apples? Well,
I guess they will come in handy. I'll
make me a dried apple cake after
mothers recipe. Come in and sit down
a minute. want you to meet my COM
pany-Mrs. Wallace"
She drew Eliza into the living room
where a small, keen-eyed woman sat
by the register.
Eliza, glad of little diversion, sat
down, and the three women began to
talk.
at feel dreadful about your going
away, Mrs. Curry kindly Mrs. Rush
mourned. at don't know what shall
do without you. You've been the best
neighbor I ever had. L wish there
was some way you could stay"
Eliza smiled her pale, patient smile.
$50 do I. But shall be very coy
at my niece's."
"Of course. She will be good to
you. No one could fail to be good
to you. What are you going to do
with your things? Take them with
your"
IT can't. I guess Mr.. Pratt. the
old furniture man. will take most
everything - except, may be, the
dried-apple chest"
"The dried-appie chest"' exclaimed
Mrs. Wallace.
Eliza explained.
I'D like to see that chest" Mrs.
Wallace said. May be L could sell
it for you. know a woman that's
quite hand for old furniture. She
might give you a good price for it"
In the little spare bedroom where
the chest. doomed so hugely Eliza
raised the shade of the one window.
II suppose maybe it's $50 years
DID," she remarked.
Eliza brought the knife. Mrs. Wal
lace said. -Four drawers and three
across the top. And the whole front
is solid mahogany. I fancy Mrs. AL
drich would give you $50 for this
anyway"
Eliza drew a long breath. Fifty
dollars was a lot of money and yet
for her the old dried-apple chest had
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