The Eastern Star

Vol. 3. INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA, AUGUST, 1890. No. 3. A WOMAN’S PRAISE. with a loud tick, tock! She could hear Deb’s to the select school in the village, and she [Youth’s Companion.] footsteps as she moved around the kitchen grew up into a tall, straight, shy girl, that sprinkling the clothes. placed in an atmosphere of light and love, They gat upon the rocks beside the sea; He still a youth, while gray had touched her hair: “I’m sure I don’t know what Deb’ll say,” would have had many talents and graces. She praised him, as a woman may, who, fair, she said finally, “but I’ll go and see Mrs. De But Deb was her only companion; she had And strong, and kind, with gentle ministry, land about it.” never had the luxury of even a doll, except Knows well how great her influence may be. Having arrived at this decision, Miss the one Deb had made her, of rags. •‘I watched your thoughtfulness and tender care Hepsy arose from her chair with a sigh of At the death of her father she and Deb had Of a young stranger. In my heart you bear The name of gentleman, for courtesy.” relief, gave a little shake to her dress, rolled moved out of the old house with its large up her knitting, ran her needles through bare rooms, into a comfortable cottage.' Years passed, and years divided, as they will, The boy and woman; yet, from that glad hour, the ball, and placed it in her willow work- Here they drifted along from day to day, Sweet deeds of goodness came his life to fill basket. Then she went into the bedroom and year to year; until Hepsy had changed Ah, who shall estimate the wondrous power and put a few finishing touches to her neat into Miss Hepsy and reached her thirty-fifth Of woman’s pralse-her words for good or ill I toilet. birth d ay . She sowed the seed - eternal blooms that flower. The little square glass before which Miss On the Sunday before our story opens, —S a r a h K. B o l t o n . Hepsy stood, reflected a thiu face, with clear Mr. Deland had preached a sermon which For The Eastern Star. b ue eyes, and brown hair streaked with had agitated Miss Hepsy considerably. He MISS HEPSY’S EXPERIMENT. gray, which would break into a wave here had described in a very vivid manner the and there, in spite of her combing it straight life of the lower classes in New York City. IN TWO PARTS—PART I. back and twisting it into a tight knot. He dwelt particularly upon the sufferings of Miss Hepsy laid down her knitting for It was a very plain face. When she smiled the children who were shut up in close filthy about the flixth time that afternoon, and it Ighted up wonderfully; but Miss Hepsy rooms, starved, beaten by drunken fathers said aloud: seldom smiled. Her thin lips had a trick of and mothers, taught nothing but crime and “I’ve a good mind to try it!” To be sure closing in a firm, straight line, and she bore wickedness. He then spoke of the charit her only listener was Tab, the cat, but Tab the sober look of a person to whom life was able people who had interested themselves was used to being the sole confidant of her a very serious matter. in these destitute children and had sub mistress, and now she rubbed against Mi*s Her path in life had been a very narrow scribed to a Fresh Air Fund, the money of Hepsy’s brown lustre dress, and looked up one. It had never broadened but once be which was to be applied in giving some into her face with a gentle purr. yond the limits of the little town in which children a two weeks’ outing in the country. “It does seem a shame,” Miss Hepsy went she lived. That once she had gone to a He did not ask his parishoners to subscribe on, stroking Tab mechanically, “that hun neighboring city for a week, but came back money to the fund, but he did ask them dreds of little children are shut up in blocks so worn and bewildered by the noise and with tears in his eyes, to open their hearts this warm weather and never get a sight of sights, that she had cried with joy at being and homes to some little waif during the hot the green grass; and haven’t a single flower in her own quiet home again, and nothing summer, and ended by saying: to brighten their lives. It's an awful risk could ever induce her to take a second trip. “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of for me to take, not knowing a thing about Her mother had died before Hepsy had these little ones, ye have done it unto me. children. Suppose she should get sick, or learned to guide her own tiny footsteps, Verily, I say unto yon, ye shall in no wise suppose she should hate cats, or suppose they and she had been brought up under her lose your reward.” Bhould send me a boy I One of those little father s stern eye. He was a very religious Miss Hepsy had not inherited her father’s street gamins that swear and do such dread man, and a very serious man. He had a close nature. She was fond of giving. She ful things! Why they even pick people’s comfortable income and worked very hard had never surrounded herself with luxuries pockets and throw stones through windows to add to it. Laughter, sunshine, flowers because she had not known how to set about and at cats! What could Deb and I do with and music had no place in his life. He had it She admired the comfortable chairs in such a boy as that?” This last thought never robbed the widow and orphans nor Mrs. Deland’s parlor; but the thought of frightened her, and she shook her head as had he ever given them anything which changing her own straight, hair-cloth ones, she resumed her neglected knitting. would tempt anyone else to rob them. for anything more comfortable, never Her shining needles clicked away busily At his wife’s death, he had closed up all entered her head. She had worn the yoke for half an hour. It was very still. The but a few rooms in the old house, and had of oppression so long that she had never pendulum of the old clock which stood in given little Hepb.y entirely into honest old made use of her freedom. She had been in its tall case in the corner, swung to and fro Deb’s charge. The little girl had been sent a deep study ever since the sermon. There was her house, comfortable, and no childish none of them seemed to suit the small, to Miss Hepsy. “I never had so much to e a t foot had ever danced across its floors. That straight, self-possessed, little figure in front before,” she said. “You must be awful ric h . ” she should send for one of the children of her, who still watched her as if wonder The sight of Rita’s hunger must have s o ft seemed an impossibility, and yet the idea ing what strange thing would happen next. ened Deb’s heart a little, for she undertook clung to her and she turned the matter over At last she heard Deb drop a dish in the the task of putting her to bed. When R ita and over again in her mind. When Deb dining-room, and her tongue loosened at pulled off the blue calico dress, Deb was h o r asked her how she wanted her oatmeal for th e sound. rified to see her thin little body covered w ith breakfast, she had answered abstractedly, “Come in, Bita,” she said, “supper is wait scars and bruises. Rita seemed to under “about ten years old;” and then Deb had in g .” stand the question in her look for she said in gotten in quite a fright and declared that she What a relief it was to hear the sound of a hard, matter-of-fact way, “That’s w here was sick. : her own voice and to know that it sounded Tim beats me when he’s drunk.” Deb shook Now • us she walked slowly between the natu ral. her head and gave a pitying sigh; then she rows of cedar trees which led up to Mrs. Bita followed her along the entry into the left the room and came back with a tub of Deland’s low, white door, she felt quite ner little sitting-room. Then Miss Hepsy turned warm water, soap and towels. An hour later vous and hysterical, and would have turned to look at her and noticed the dust and black found R ita sleeping soundly, an d for th e f i r s t back, but Mrs. Deland had seen her coming streaks left by numerous cinders on her face time in her life, in a bed, she had told Deb. and stood in the doorway smiling. Miss and hands. She led the way into her own When questioned as to where she had been Hepsy accepted the kind invitation to lay dainty bed-room, and poured out a generous in the habit of sleeping she had answered: off her bonnet and stay to tea; and she dis supply of water in the large white bo^l.

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