1
) '
THE OREGON SUNDAY . JOURNAL, PORTLAND, SUNDAY MORNING, 'DECEMBER ,20, 9pS
Cohyrtrftt: JCda.
i'inOPPnRRRROPWP .
8
1 'J7j
-.i : -v- -vi i ' i lit ir iimir-ti lira ;;sjwi7i.- - r,jr.-auairTei;
"I
M KEADT for another basket, sister!" cried
Araminta.
For the last i.'.x month, and more or less
.1 h th whole year since the preceding
Christmas, Aranilnta and Sarah White had been pre
paring presents for the neighborhood and all their
relatives: It was the day before Christmas now. and
Araminta was distributing them, as was her annual
wont. She was. wrapped up warmly-it was very cold
and she carried a large empty basket. "Here, Ml
It up again, quick!" she cried, and pulled off her
llawl to help herself. Araminta's older sister, Sarah,
artd the visiting cousin, Mrs. Martha Spear, from
Ohio, began gathering up email neat parcels in white
paper, tied with red cord, from the table and sofa
where they were piled.
1 "Land! what a lot of folks you do remember.
slid the cousin, placing parcels gingerly in the basket
i "We don't leave out a single soul for half a mile
ach way," said Sarah, proudly, "or. rather, Araminta
d$n't She does the most of it."
f "I don't do any more than you do. sister." said Ara
minta. "I tell you those Luniklns children weje tickled
when they nw me coming, poor little things. Every
head waa in the window, noses Hat as dabs of putty
gainst the glasses, the whole six."
"Six children!" said the cousin.
"Yes. ix," replied Sarah, "and the "father no money,
and the mother no strength, all six sickly."
'And dirty," added Araminta, happily.
. "Dreadful!" said the cousin.
'"I can't help feelln' so sometimes," agreed Sarah,
who wa at time gently pessimistic.
But Araminta laughed witn connaence. on senses .,,,
"Tea, and lie had et up his office with htm. Law
yer Clark was kind of out of health? be didn't live
long afterward, and Daniel would have had a good
practice If he'd stayed right along here. But as soon
aa hie father died he moved away to the city and aet
up business there. I hear he's done very well. I
think he's a Judge."
"He was good-looking, too. as I remember."
"Good looking! He was handsome aa handsome
a fellow as I ever saw. There wasn't a young man In
the vtllage to compare with him in looks or ap
pearance." "And Araminta didn't take a fancy to him?" In
quired the cousin, with wonder.
"Tea, she took a fancy to him; at least she did at
first. It wasn't that, poor child. No, I won't say poor
child. She wasn't poor a mite about it after she'd
given him up."
"Araminta would have made a man a beautiful
wife." assented the cousin.
"I guess she would, and Daniel Rodgers knew it,
too. He had a pretty long head."
"Yes, I always thought he had."
"He had. Well, he begun coming to see Araminta
when she wasn't over 18. She always seemed older,
though. Araminta was real womanly. She didn't
eem to have any of the silly ways of most young
girls. She knew what she did know, and she knew
what she didn't know, and she was real strong on
that last knowledge. She was a good housekeeper,
young as she was. She took right hold; you know I
was school teaching and mother wasn't very well,.
It was three years after father died. You know we
AlUUftt. About enough to live on that he left us, and
He
I
fill
(hum
RAIMI Iii. C V f 1 1
' $fi
wwwi xvifr -jw vrm
7 'V
mmm
' - --.
Mm.
said she, placing another parcel "Tou ought to have
seen them Just now. It is six. times as much fun
Christmas as one child could have, and who's going to
say it isn't worth while? And I guess there's fun
enough left over from this Christmas for their whole
Uvea. Tou'd ought to have seen them, how they
tickled and laughed, sickly and dirty, and everything.
Mother used to say ahe didn't want to have a cat put
ut of the world that took a mite of comfort in it,
and t guess six children as happy as these this morn
ing are more than cats. Their mother waa pleased,
too." ,
- "Araminta made a nice flannel wrapper for her
ant and made it Uerself," said Sarah.
.- "She put it right on to see how it fitted, and she
looked aa pretty aa a picture in it," said Araminta.
The basket was full again, and she replaced the shawl
over ber shoulders, and pinned it tightly around her
neck. She gathered up the basket on her arm, and
tood in the doorway a second, smiling at the two
women before starting.
f-' "Jest look at her!" cried the cousin, with a mixture
of admiration and wonder and amusement. "If she
. ain't the happiest-looking mortal I ever laid eyes on."
' Indeed. Araminta White, middle-aged, single, with
the faded dulness of advancing life on her thin face,
- with sparse gray hair, merely a line showing under
er hood above a lift of candid forehead, which was
heavily lined, seemed to give out a glow of pure de
light. She was wonderful. Her blue eyes shone with
Winethlng better than the youth of the flesh. She
railed a smile which took hold of immortal bliss. She
looked like un Incarnate joy. and the women dimly
sensed It. Then she turned and went out, laughing
happily like a child, like a goddess who holds youth
and childhood forever. "I am happy," she called back.
"My looks don't belie me! Nobody knows how I look
forward to this all the year!"
"She gives right through the year, too," Sarah
aid, when the door had shut and Araminta had pass
ed the windows. "I never saw anybody take so much
comfort giving presents as Araminta. She can't give
much in one way, either, for we haven't money
enough, but she's a wonderful manager. She don't
tint at home for any comforts, and we both have
enough to look respectable."
. The cousin sat swaying: back and forth in the
rocking chair. She had not seen these relatives for
years not since her own girlhood, when she lived In
the same village. Now her husband was dead, and
rt-.e .had returned r.-..ddle-aged, stout and rather opu
lent, to take up some of the old threads of ber life.
She had arrived the day before, and was to spend a
. number of weeks with Sarah and Araminta. "Ara
minta ain't changed very much in her looks," said
be. Anally, with a reminiscent expression.
"No," replied Sarah, "I don't see as she has. Of
course living with anybody right along. It's harder
to tell." Sarah was porhaps ten years older than the
visiting cousin, tall and Mender, with an ineffaceable
dignity of mien. She was fastening some little blue
ribbon bows on the corners of n pincushion which
Arnniinta was to take in the next basket, but she
performed the trivial task with the same expression!
with which she would have signed documents of state.
She haden a school teacher for nearly forty years,
and she'Vras stiffened into her old attitudes of life.
' t ''She has a real happy disposition," remarked the
cousin, again. "And I can't see" She hesitated again
a minute.
j- Tou can't see as she's anything so wonderful to
make her happier than other folks?" said Sarah.
"Well, no, to -tell you the truth, Sarah, I can't."
The eot'sin laujrhed apologetically. "Of course she's
got a Kood. comfortable home here. She has all the
comforts of -life, and she has you to live with, but"
"You mean she never rot married." said Sarah,
bluntly, with a slight tone of defiance.
"I don't eupposo she cared to get married, or ahe
would have," the cousin hastened to respond.
- No. she didn't care to get married," Sarah said,
with dignified emphasis,- &r she would have. Ara
minta had a chance."
"of course I knew she must havo," said the cousin.
eMfrfrty, "Of course Araminta was so pretty look
' "Sh didn't have but one chance If she was pretty,
but she did have one chance," said Sarah, firmly.
"Who was, it? Anybody I know?"
"Well. I think you must bave known him. It was
Danll Itodgers." :.
My, yes. Of course I used to know htm. He was,
about my aire. I went to 'school with him. - Why. he- -
pretty smart', wasn't lie? -His father had money."
"ea. Ms Kit.'ier had a good deal .of money, and -.
PsMftl was the only child. Araminta knew he was
i-omluf in for a good deal, but she didn't think of that
a seonnd. Come girls might have, but she didn't. He
ri smsru too."
lie ui.fl Jaw wits Uwnr Clark, didn't her.
then my school teaching money was extra. We never
Kept any help; Araminta did all the' work, and she
made all the clothes. She did dess tasty, too. She
was as pretty, as a picture, tooif I do say it.' I've
sen young men turn to look after her a good many
times, though Daniel' Rodgers was the only one that
really went with her. Sometimes I used to think that
Araminta was too pretty and too ladylike and too
good, that she sort of scared them off. I think there
is such a thing. Men want a girl more like them
selves. Still, there weren't many young men here."
"No, there weren't, especially young men," assented
the cousin.
"He called first one Wednesday evening, then the
week after he walked home with her from' Friday
evening prayer meeting. Then a week from the next
Sunday be came and spent the evening, then, after
that, he came pretty steady. 'He really is gibing with
you. Isn't her I said to Araminta, after it had been
kept up about six weeks; and she sort of colored up
and laughed, and I saw that she had begun to think so.
"Well, he had been going with Araminta nearly a
year, and it waa coming Christmas, and we had begun to
think of their being married in June. Araminta seemed
Just as happy. I don't think she has ever been happy In
the same way since, but she has been as happy, and hap
pier, I guess, in another way. I guest she was thinking
more about herself then than she ever has since. There
was talk about Daniel building a house, though Ara
minta would rather have planned to live with mother
and me. She said she couldn't see how we were going
to get along without her. We couldn't quite afford to
keep help, and mother wasn't strong enough to do
much, and I didn't have much time out of school, ex
rept in the summer vacation. She had planned a good
deal; well, the plans didn't ever come to anything.
"Daniel was a young man who had always called
around at different houses a good deal, and he did
after he was going with Araminta. Of course, he
didn't call ateady at any one place, so far as we knew,
but we knew of his calling a good deal. He used to
call on the Adams girls, and on Kate Slocuni and her
aunt He used to tell us of it himself. Yes. folks
talked and surmised, but they really didn't know any
thing, not even how much he came to see Araminta,
and it was lucky afterward for her that they didn't.
It made it a good deal easier for her. I don't know
what she would have done if she'd thought folks pitied
ber, were looking and harking and pitying her. I guess
that would have been too much even for Araminta.
"Well, the day before Christmas came a beautiful
firesent from Daniel for Araminta. She had been work
ng hard on one, or rather two, for him a lovely pair
of slippers with a letter D in a little wreath of roses
on each toe, filled In with brown, and the handsomest
crocheted scarf I ever laid my eyes on. You remember
when men wore those great scarfs crocheted of
worsted, years ago?"
"Yes, I remember." '
"Well, that scarf was very long and wide, a pretty
red color, and on each end was worked a stag's head
and some green leaves. It was an elegant thing, and
all the style then, and Araminta had worked real hard
making it. His present for her came the day before
Christmas, as I said. It was a most beautiful fan,
white satin, all painted with roses, and spangled, with
feathers on the edge, carved ivory sticks, and little
looking-glasses on each end stick. I had never seen
anything like It, and Araminta, she was so pleased she
dldn t know what to do. she kept opening the box and
looking at It. 'It seems as If It was too nice for me,'
says she, 'and he was too extravagant,' and ahe was
all kind of smiling and trembling at the same time,,
and her cheeks were pink. I remember Just how she
looked gazing at that fan. She looked pretty enough
to kiss. Well, she had Just put the fan in the box for
the dozenth time, and was working the litst green
ctripe with some pink rosebuds, sitting by the south
sitting room window In the sun. Just as happy, when
we saw that girl come flying up the road."
"What girl?" cried the visiting cousin, eagerly.
"Her name was Grace Ormsby; she came from
Bondville. I don't know whether you ever knew her.
Hhe waa a' good deal younger. She wasn't quite so
old as Araminta. ,
"'Do look at this girl coming, says I to Araminta,'
and she looked.
" 'Who in the world is itr says she.
"'I never set eyes on her before,' says I. 'She looks
kind of queer. I wonder if anybody's sick: and she'
going for the doctor.' .
" 'She can hardly walk, poor thing, says Araminta. -Then
she cries out, dreadful astonished. "Why saya
she,. 'she's coming In here!' And she was. That rlrl
turned right in at our front gate. 'It's lucky I swept
the path out this morning,' says Araminta, 'or she
couldn't have got in at all. Tout It's blown in a good .
.deal since..- - . . - :
"'Who is itr says 11 kind ot tewnaerefl, peeking
around -tha edge vf the window. . i-. ,
" 'I don't know,' says Araminta, Jumping up and
going to open the door, 'but she can hardly walk, poor
thing, whoever she Is. I'm sorry the snow has blown,
in on the path so. I don't know but I'd better get the
broom and sweep it off again, so she can get in.'
"And Araminta did. The snow had blown in on the
front walk pretty bad, and Araminta got the broom
and ran out and swept away some, so the girl could
get in without wading up to her knees. I went to the
door, and stood there with a shawl over my head.
" 'Are you Miss Araminta White?' I heard the girl
kind of gasp out, while Araminta was swishing the
broom In front of her. She stood as if she was going
to melt right down like a snow image the next min
ute, and I could see that her face In the red hood waa
white as a sheet, and she had a kind of breathless look.
" 'Yes,' says Araminta, sweeping away. 'I'm real
sorry the path Isn't better. I swept It out this morn
ing, but the wind blows se the snow flies right back
about as fast as I can sweep it off. And it did, sure
enough. Both those girls stood there in a kind of
whirlpool of snow, all glittering and glistening like a
rainbow. Araminta was laughing real pleasant, mak
ing her broom fly as fast as she could, and the girl
stood aa If she was Just about sinking down. There,'
says Araminta, In a minute. 'Now I guess you can get
In a little better,' and she moves ahead with her
broom, and the girl tries to follow. But the first thing
I knew she staggered and Araminta had dropped the
broom and was hanging on to her. "
" 'What's the matter?" I cried out I was seared.
"'I guess she's faint,' says Araminta. 'Suppose you
get a glass of the blackberry wine, Sarah.' Araminta
was half dragging the girl up the walk. Her hood
was on her neck by that time, and her head was lop
ping, and she did look ghastly.
" "Can you get her up the steps? I sings out And
Araminta said she could, and she did; but I never
knew how she managed, for the girl was as big as
she was, and 'most as heavjr. I ran down cellar and
got a bottle of blackberry wine. It was ten years old
and( real strong. When I got upstairs Araminta had
her hood and coat off and she was laying on the sofa.
She kept trying to get up, though she didn't look as
if she could sit up a second. She acted dreadful kind
of nervous.
"I poured out a good swig- of that blackberry wine
in a tumbler, and I want up to her. 'Here, drink this.'
says I, 'and then you'll feel better and yqu can get up.'
"She looked up at me dreadful pitiful and sort of
dazed, a real good little face she had, not pretty a bit,
but good, with nice soft brown eyes and hair. She
looked like a real, sweet, obedient little girl, and sen
sible enough, If she didn't get to thinking too much of
a man and be didn't treat her fair, and that made a
fool of her. She was white and forlorn looking, poor
child. I pitied her from the bottom of my heart,
though I was out of patience with her, too. For my
part. I have never seen how any woman could lose her'
pride enough to go on the way she did over a mortal
man. I've never seen any roan that was worth Jt Dan
iel Rodgers wasn't, though he wasn't a bad youhg man,
only too much like other men when it came to a pretty
face.
"Well, Just as soon as she bad swallowed that
blackberry wine up she jumped. Araminta couldn't
keep her down a minute longer. She was up on her
two little feet, thin shoes and no rubbers in all that
snow! If she had had a mother. I guess she would
never have come out In that fashion, man or no man!
Her mother was dead, and her aunt, her father's sis
ter, had brought her up. She was kind of flighty, trout '
all I've heard."
"Yes. she was," assented the cousfn, with a nod.
"And her sister had Just married and gone away
to live, and her father was in the city on business. He
never knew about It, I guess. I don't know what he
would have done. I've alwaya heard he was a pretty
stern sort-Ot man."
"So have I."
"I guess he never knew of It I know Araminta
and I never lisped a word about it, and I don't believe
the girl did. I guess she had sense enough for that."
"What did she do7"
"Wei!, she Just stood up, and ran 'to the mantel
shelf where there was a picture of Daniel Rodgers in
a shell frame. Araminta had made the frame herself
out of some shells she'd picked up on Barr Beach the
summer before. She spent a week there in August.
It was a real pretty frame. The shells were stuck in
putty. It's In the parlor now, with a picture of a Ma
donna that one of her Sunday-school scholars gave
her in it. Well, that girl, she made straight for that
picture, and she stood looking; at it dreadful wild and
pitiful. 'It's true, then,' says he; then, all at once, in
a voice so sharp that It didn't seem as if it could come
from such a mild little mouth, 'I know it's true now,'
says she, and she shakes her head and she looks at
Araminta.
"Araminta turned kind of pale, but ahe didn't lose
her self-control. She spoke as calm and even as a
clock 'What is it that you know Is true? says she.
And she moves close to the girl, and puts her hand
en her shoulder. The girl sort of pulls away from
her at first, for all the world like a sulky baby. Then,
all of a sudden, ber arras went round Aramlnta's neck
and her head was on ber shoulder, and she was crying
to break her heart, with her face hidden.
"Then- Araminta she patted ber head and spoke
real soothing. 'What is It, dear r says she. 'What
is the matter? But the girl Just sobbed and sobbed.
'What la it, dear? says Araminta1 again.
"Then the- girl ' raised her head, and stood off a
little way, and looked at Araminta ' with her poor "'
little face all of a quiver, and the tears streaming
and her mouth all puckered up. 'I had hint first,'
ays she. and the tears came again.
"'Had who first? says Araminta,
"'Dank, sobs the girl, "Daniel.'
'Do you mean Daniel Rodgers was going with
you before he went with me?V says Araminta,' and
she spoke sterber than I had ever heard her.
"'Yes,' says the girL 'Yes, he was going with me '
a long time, ever since I Was in long dresses, lie
used to see me home from places Aunt Clara didn't '
tell father, and then he used to coma to call real
Often. . .- -: '....., . .'--
" "When did he coma to. ee you last?, says Ara- :
minia
ropp
o
-'( r
" "Not since last Christmas time,' says the girt, and I
heard Araminta draw a long breath. I knew what
she had been afraid of, and had suspected htm of for'
a minute that he had been to see both of them at
the same time; but he wasn't so bad as that. I don'.t
know as he had been so very bad, after all, only
Aramlnta'a pretty face bad been a little too much
for his faithfulness, because he was nothing but a
man. He hadn't been very open, but I suppose he
' thought the least said soonest mended; and maybe ha
hadn't been actually engaged to Grace Ormsby, after
all, though she thought so, and he must have given
her a good deal of reason to think he was serious.
. "Well, she began to cry again, and Araminta stood
looking at her, and I must say she had a beautiful
expression. She was smiling; I didn't see how she
could fetch a smile, but she did. Tou thought Daniel
liked you?' says she.
" 'Yes,' sobs the girl, 'he did. He used to like me bet
ter than anybody till till he saw you.'. Then she sobs
out loud. 'Oh, ob, if a 'most Christmas,' says she, 'and
I can't bear it, I can'tl I won't have any present from
him, and last Christmas he gave me such a beauti
ful box of candy and a gold pin. Now I shan't have
any present from him this year. Oh, I wouldn't have
come if it hadn't been Christmas. I couldn't bear It
The thinking of last Christmas, how happy I was,
and this I shan't have any present from him.'
" 'Perhaps you will,' says Araminta.
" 'No, I shan't.' sobs the girl. 'He'll he'll give you
the present this year!'
"Thinks I, 'What would she say it aha were to
see that fan?
"I knew Araminta was thinking about it Then
Araminta kind of started back, as if she couldn't help
It, for all of a sudden, the girl ran to her again, and
snuggled up to ber, and cried on her shoulder.
" 'Oh, you wouldn't have taken him away if you
had known how much I loved him, and how I had
him first, would your says she, for all the world Ilk
a child.
"No, says Araminta, I wouldn't.
"'I don't see why he left me for you,' says the
girl. 'You are better-looking, but I didn't think that
was what Daniel looked at more than anything else.
I didn't think he was that kind of man, and he isn't,
either, and you couldn't possibly love him any better
than I do; and I am a pretty good housekeeper, and
I was trying very hard to improve. Are you m very
good scholar? '
" 'Not so very,' says Araminta, and she actually
laughed a little.
" 'I thought maybe you were, and that was the
reason he liked you,' says the girl. 'Daniel Is such a
scholar. I guess you must be more capable than I
am, though I have tried very hard to be capable since
Daniel began going with me. Are you so very
capable?"
" 'No, I guess not very,' says Araminta, but she
spoke as if she wasn't thinking of what she was
saying.
"Then I speaks up for the first time. Yes. you are
capable, too,' says I; you know you are capable.'
"'Then that is the reason,' says the. girl, and she
sobs, and" clings to Araminta.
"I was getting out 'of patience. It seemed to mo
I had never seen such goings-on. "Why don't you and
she sit down, Araminta? says L 'You will be all
tired out.'
"Araminta looks over the girl's head and smiles,
and shakes her bead at me that I must not interfere.
So I didn't say anything more, though I wamted to.
"'You don't know, you don't know,' says the girl,
sort of moaning it was dreadful painful 'how terri
ble it has all been. I've watched and watched for hint
to come, and I wondered and wondered If ha was
going with any other girl, and I couldn't find out;
I didn't know anybody from here besides Daniel.
Once I walked 'way over here one moonlight evening.
Father and Aunt Clara thought I had gone to meet
ing. I went to the house where he lives. I hid be
hind the hedge till he came out, and then I crept
out, and was going to follow him. but I was so afraid
he would turn round and see me, that I didn't dare.
I went back behind the hedge till he was gone. Then
I went home. I tan 'most all the way. I was afraid.'
"'It is five miles to Bondville,' saya Araminta, In
the kindest voice. .
" 'Yes,' says the girl. 1 walked ten miles that
night Then I cried till morning. I didn't sleep any.
Father and Aunt .Clara say they don't see why I
have grown so thin.' She was thin, sura enough, poor
child. Her little hands were like claws. ,
"'You walked 'way over here today? says Ara-
m,I,"tTfes, says the girl, 'but I don't know why I did.
Then she cries out, real hysterical: 'Oh, why did I
come? Why did I come? How shall I ever get homer
"'I am going to take you home,' says Araminta.
The stage goes over at 11 o'clock, and I will go
wltb you.( Nobody need know. I shall not get out of
the"'On'wlll your says the girl, and she clung to her
tighter than ever. She was a queer kind of a creature..
I don't believe many girls would have taken it the
way she .did
'Then Araminta spoke real firm. Now,' saya aha,
1 want you to sit down here in the chair beside the
stove. And I am going to make a good, hot cup of
tea and cook you an' egg and make you some toast,
Have you -eaten any breakfast?
'"No, I haven't says the girl. T couldn't, Aunt
Clara wanted to know why, but I wouldn't tell her.
I guess she suspected.' - ' .
"Well, she did just as Araminta told her to. She
sat down by the atove, and Araminta got a good, hot
breakfast for her, and she ate it. too. She waa Just ,
about worn Out. I made her take off her soaking
wet shoes and stockings, and got some slippers of
Araminta' for her while they dried. It was nearly
an hour ' before the stage : went.
v "Well, I, never knew how Araminta managed it
or Just what she said, but she got the girt all quieted
down, and she went off with her real oalm. .
"Araminta was , gone, about an hour and a half.
Ehe just went over in, the aUge and . turned round
and came back again. I don't think anybody ever
knew anything about it She said there weren't any
other passengers over to Bondville that morning.
There were two coming back.
"When Araminta came into the room I couldn't
bear to look at her at first I could hear her moving
about taking off her things. 'Dinner is all ready
when you are.' says I, I didn't look at her when'l
aid H. I had been getting dinner when she was
gone.
"But she epoke Just as natural. 'I'm all ready
now,' says she. 'and I am hungry, too. I smelled the
beefsteak the minute I came Into the yard.'
"Then I looked at her and ahe was Just as usual.
I didn't know what to say. We went out in the other
room, and I took the beefsteak out of the oven, and
she took up the potatoes.
"'Well, what are you going to dor says I whea
she sat down, and I could hear my voice shake.
"'I am going to make a Christmas present,' says
Araminta. and she laughed Just as pleasant
,f 1 IT
its true
trovr
"To that glrir saya I.
"Ye. saya ahe.
"What? says J.
" 'A man and a fan.' says Araminta, and then she
laughed again.
"She didn't V said the cousin.
"Yea, she did." replied Sarah, "in spite of all I
could say; and I did say a good deal when It came
right down to It. There I was not married, and
well, I've always thought it was the right way for
a woman to be married, if she could, and I wanted
her to be happy. But she wouldn't listen to anything
I said. She Just laughed, and said she was bound to
be happy anyway. She would always have a good
deal to be thankful for and she knew she would be
happy. I told ber maybe she'd never have another
chance, and she said if she did she'd never take it;
but she never did have one."
"Weil, marriage ain't everything." said the cousin.
"No," said Sarah, "it isn't so much as giving it
up and behaving yourself, if the Lord show he
hasn't planned to have you married."
"That's what Araminta did?"
"Yes, that's what Araminta did."
"But," said the cousin, "I don't see how she man
aged to give away Daniel and the fan to the other
girl."
"That was easy enough," said Sarah. "She did up
the fan and sent It to Grace Ormsby. She didn't send
any card or anything; she knew the girl would Jump
at thinking he had sent it. Then she sends a note to
Daniel, saying sne won-t be borne Christmas, and oft
she goes and spends Christmas with her cousin Alice
in Fayettevllle. She'd told Grace to send blm a little
note, asking him to call on her Christmas evening,
and ha went Araminta thought she could count on
it. She reasoned it out that be would be real huffy
because she bad gone off without a word to htm, and
When be heard from Grace he would be glad enough
to go, and when he saw her the old feeling would
come over him again that is, if it had ever been
worth anything; and he was right And I suppose
when he saw Grace Ormsby with the fan he had sent
tp Araminta he gave Araminta up on the, jpot.
"I wonder tf Grace Ormsby ever knew about the
fanr ald the cousin.
"I rather guess not, said Sarah. "Sometimes Ara
minta has felt kind of uneasy about her course with
the fan, as. if maybe she was sort of underhanded;
but it turned out all right and she really felt as If
the other girl was the ona to have It. Anyway, it
settled him as far as Araminta was concerned. Pretty
oon we heard he was going with Grace Ormsby;
then pretty soon they got married and went away to
live, f hear she has made him a very good wife. Once
Araminta said to me that unless she had been quite
sure that she would, she should have hesitated more
than ahe did. She said it seemed to her that Grace
Ormsby would make him very happy."
"I think Araminta seems happy enough herself
without him." eald the cousin. - .
"Ye, I guess she did Just a well to let him go,
replied fiarah. "He was a smart man, but she's Just
as well off in a good many ways. Here she 1 now."
Then Araminta entered and again stood in the door
way with her basket empty of presents. "Look at
her," said her sister, with a sort of tender pride.
"Don't she look happy, Marthaf - r
"I never saw anybody take so much tsomfort In 1
giving Christmas presents in all my life," said, the
cousin. ; '
Araminta laughed. "Sometimes (t seems to me as
If I was emptying all the baskets into my own heart
and didn't really give anything," said she. .
7