THE RUNAWAY.

Bush Advocate, Volume VII, Issue 650, 16 July 1892, Page 6

THE RUNAWAY.

" Would they put her in tho asylum," she wondered, " if they caught her?" Polks would surely think she was crazy. She stopped at tho stone wall to rest, and looked back timorously at the old familiar scene. Far behind her stretched the meadow, a symphony of olive and green in the late fall. I'loro and there grow berry bushes clothed in scarlet and gold. At intervals in the long slope stood solitary treeß, where fluttering, brittle leaves fell in the gentle, chill air. In Bummer tiino she romemhered well tho haymakers rested in the shade, and the jug with ginger water sho made for the men was kept there to be cool. Sho eeoaied as she sat there to remember everything. Tho house was all right, she was Bure of that ; tho key was under the kitchen doormat, the fire wae out in tho stove and the cat locked in tho barn. Sho held her work-hardened hand to her side, panting a little, for it was a good bit of a walk across the meadow, and she was eighty years old on her last birthday. The cows feeding looked homelike and pleasant. " Good-bye, critteis," she said alond "many's the time I've druv' ye home an' milked ye, and I allus let ye eat by the way nornover hurried ye as the boys done.'' With a farowoll glanoo bub went on again, smoothing as she walked the scattered locks of groy hair falling under the pumpkin hood and keeping her black scant gown out of the reach of briars, Across another field, then through a leafy lane where the wood was hauled in winter, then out through a gap in a stump fence, with its great branching arms like a petritiod octopus, to the dusty highroad. Not a eoul in sight in tho coining twilight. John, the children, and the scoldiug wife who madoher6o unhappy, would not In at home for an hour yet, for East Mills was a long drive. Down tho stoop lull wont the brayo little figure, followed by an old shadow of itself in tfio waning light, and by tho liny stones that rolled so swiftly they passed her often and ' made her look behind with a start to boo if a pursuor was coming. "They'd put me in tho asylum, sure," Bhe muttered wildly as she trudged along. At tho foot of the hill she Bat down upon an old log and waited for the train. Across the road, guarded l>y a big sign, "Lgok out for tho engine," ran two parallel iron rails that were to he her road when the big monster should come panting arouud tho curve. At last the dull rumble sounded, a shrill whistle, and she hurried 10 tho track, waving her shawl to eignaT. This, in tho conductor's vernacular, was a cross-roads station, where he was used to watch for poople waving articles frantic illy. Tho train Btorped nnd tho passenger was taken aboard. He noticed she was a bright- eyed old lady, very neat and precise. " How furi 1 " ho asked. "Bo3tin." '[Gitthercin the mornin'," ho said, kindly, waiting for the money, as slio opened a queer little roticule, where, under her knitting, wrapped in a clem cotton handkerchief, was her purse with her savings of long years— tho little sums Sam had s,ent her when he first began to prosper iv tho West, and some money she had earned herself by knitting and bany picking. At a cross road, as they went swiftly on, she saw the old -sorrel horse,- the rattling waggon and John with hia family during homoward, She drow back with a littlo cry, fearini* he might see her u,nd stop the train, but they went on so fast that could not be, and tho old horse jogged iuto tho woods, and John nevor thought his old Aunt Hannah, his charge for twenty long years, was running away. At Boston a kindly conductor bought her a through ticket for Denver. "Its a long journey for an old lady like you," ha said. "But I'm peart of my age," she said anxiously ; " I never had a day's sickucoS since 1 was a gal." " Going all the way alone ?' " With Providence," «lie answered brightly, alert and eager to help herself, but silent and thoughtful as the train took her into strange landscape where the miles whore tho landscape wont so swiftly it seemed like the past years of her life as she looked back on them. " Tby words are marvellous," she murmured often, sitting with her hands folded, and few idle days had there been in the world where she had sat and rested so long. In tho day coach the peoplo were kind and gonerous, sharing their baskets with her and soeing she changed cars right and her carpet bag was ante. She was like any of the dear old grandmas iv Eastern homos, or to grizz'ed men and women like tho memory of our dead mother] as faint and fair away as the scent of wild roses in a hillside country buryiug-ground. She te'hded babies for tired women, and talked to the men of farming and crops, or told the children Bible stories, but nevor a word sho said of herself, not one. On again, guided by kindly hands through the great bewildering city by tho In Ice, and now through yet a stranger land. Tired and worn by night in the uncomfortable Beats her brave spirit began to fall a little. As the wide, level plains, lonely and drear, dawned on Her eight she sighed often. " " It's a aro'ful big world," she said to a Key bearded old farmer near her ; bo big I feel o'eu most lost in it, but," hopefully, " across them d°s«rts like this long ago Providence sent a star to guide them wise men of the East, an' I hain't lost my faith." But as the day wore on, and still, tho long, monotonous land showed no human habitation, no oasis of green, hoi eyes dimmed, something like a sob rose under the black kerchief on tho bowed shoulders, and the spectacles were taken off with trembling hand and put away carefully in the worn tin case. '•Bo ye goin' fur, mother?" said tho old farmer. He had brought her a cup of coffoe at tho last station, and had pointed out on the way things he thought might interest her. " To Denver." "Wai, wal ; you're from Now England, I'll be bound." " From Maine," she answered ; and then oho riow cominuuieative, for sho waa always a chatty old lady, and she had possessed her soul in sileno so long, audit was a relief to tell tho story of her weary years of waiting to a kindly listener. She told him all tho relations she had were two grand nephews and their families. That twenty years ago Sam (for she had brought them up when their parents died of consumption, that takes so many of our folks) went out West. He was always adventurous, and for ten years Bho did not hear from him ; hut Jehu was different and Bteady, and when ho came of ape sho had given him her farm, with tho provision that sho should always hare a home, otherwise ho would have gone away, too. Well, for five years they were happy, then John married, and his wife had grown to think her a burden as the years went on, and the children when they grew big did not care for her ; she felt that she had lived too long. ' ' I gro wed so lonesome," she sai J pathetically, " it satins I couldn't take up heart to live day Vy clay, an' yit I knowed our folks wai longlived. Ten years back, when Sam wroto, ho was doin' fair an' sont me money. I began to think of him ; fur he was allus ftniierous an' kind, an' thp grateiulestboy, an' co I began to sive to go to him, fur I knowed I -seuld work my board for a good many years to come. Fur throe years h") ain't hardly wrote, hut I laid that to tho wild kontry he lived in. I said bars and Injuns don't skeernie none, for when I wns a eal up in Aroostuk kontry there was plenty of both, an' as fur bufialers them horned cattle don't skoer me none, fur I'vo been usod to a farm allue. But the lonosumnets of those medders has sorter upsot mo and mado mo think every day Sam waa further oft' than I ever calculated on." " But what will you do if Sam aiu't in Denver p" asked the farmer. "I hey put my faith iv Providence, 1 ' she auswered simply, and the utranger could not mar that trust by any word of warning. He gave her his address as he got oIF at the Nobr.ukii line, and told nor to send him word if sho needed help. With a warm hand-clasp he parted from her to join the phantoms in her memory of " folks that had been kind to her God bless nit 1 ," and then the train wasiMiubling on. But many of tho passengers hud li&tcuetl to her story and were interested, and they camo to sit with her. 0.-ie palo little lad in a seat in frout turned to look at her now and then and to answer her smile, He was going (o tho new comitiy for health and wealth, poor lad, only to find eternal reft iv tho Bunny land, but his last days brightened by tho roward for his thoughtful acts of kiuduosG. *' She probably brought these boys up," ho thought", u and denied her life for them. Is Bhe to die unrewarded, I wonder V There cannot bo any good in the world if that ho so." He thought, of her and took out his purse ! There was so little money in it, too, every cent made a big hole in his storo ; but tho consctousiusa of a good deed was worth something. " I mayn't have the chance to do many more," thought tho lad, buttoning his worn overcoat. J[o Blippod off without a word at a station uti'l cent a telegram to Donvor. "To riamusl Blair"— for ho had nmgbt tho name from her talk — "Your Aunt llannah Blair ie on the \V, andW, train coming to jou.'

I It was only a straw, but a kindly wind might j blow it to tUe right ouo after all. i J When ho was sitting there after his message I had gone on Us way, she leaned over and handed liim a peppermint drop from a package in her pocket. " You don't look stroug, dearie," she said; " hnin't yo no folks with ye i" "None on earth." "We're both lono ones, 1 ' she smiled, "an' how sad it be there ain't no one to fuss ovor ye. But be keerful of the draughts, and keep flannels allus ou your chist ; that is good fur the lungs." "You are very kiud to tike an interest in me," he smiled, •' but I am afraid it is too late." Another night of weary Blumber in the cramped seats, and then the plain began to be dotted with villages, and soon appeared the straggling outskirts of a city, the smoke of mills, the gleam of the Flatte River, nni a network of iron mils, bright and Binning, as the train ran shrieking into the labyrinth of its destination. "Tina h Denver," said tho lad to her, " and I'll look after you as well as I can." J "I won't bo no burdon," she said brightly. " I've 20 dollars yet, an' that's a sight of money." The train halted to let the eastward-bound express pass ; there was an air of excitement in the car, paaaengers getting ready to dopart, gathering up luggage and wraps, and somo watching the new comers and the rows of strange faces on the outward bound. The door of the oar slammed suddenly, and a big bearded man with eager blue eyes came down the aisle, looking sharply from right to left. Ho had left Denver on the express to meot this train. Mis glance fell on the tiny black figure. "Why, Auut Hannah !" he cried, with a break in his voice, and she— she put out her trembling hand and fell into the big arms, tears streaming down the wrinkled face. " I knowed Providence would let me find yo, I Sam," she said brokenly, and no ono smiled when the big man sat down beside her and with gentle hand wiped her tears away. " Why, I've sent John 20 dollarsa month for five years for you," ho said angrily, as she told him why eho ran away, "and he said you could not write, for you had a stroke and was helpless, and I havo written often and sent you money. It's hard for a man to call his own brother a villain." " Wo wun't, Sam," she said gently, "but just furgit ; and I wouldn't be a burden to ye, for I can work yit, an' for years to come." " Work, indeed ! don't I owe you everything?" he cried. " And my wife has longed for you to corns. Thero are bo few dear old aunts in this country, they'ra prized, I tell you. Why, it's as fjootl as a royal coat of arm's to havo a dear handsome old woman like you for a relation." Then he found out who seat tho telegram, and paid the lad, who blushed and stammered like n girl and did not want to take it. " I suppose you waut a job," said tho Ivg man. "Well, I can giveyou one. I'm in tho food commission business. Give you something "I light r Lots of your sort, poor lml, out here. All tho loference 1 waut ib that little kindness of yours to Aunt Hannah." " Here's tho depot, Auut Hnunah, and you won't see 'burs and in j tins' nor tho buffaloes; sunniest city you over set your dear eyeß on." He picked up the carpet bag, faded aud oldfashioned, not a bit xvshnraou of it, though it looked as if Noah might have carried it to the ark, They said good-bye, and the last eeen of her was her happy old f aco beaming from a carriage window a? 6he rolled away tj what all know would be a pleasant home for all her waning years. __^__^__^^_^^^