"STAR" TALES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9194, 25 March 1908, Page 4

"STAR" TALES.

A GENTLE TRAVELLER/ (By ANNIE HAMILTON DONNELL.) Mias Sarah's great day dawned serene and promising. Miss Sarah rose early to do a few remaining things; at one of them she hesitated, irresolute. "Bismarck," she said, looking down sorrowfully at th© great grey fellow, V I d6h ? t^like to leave you behind a mite.' - Not but you'd be perfectly safe over to Itfarthy Flagg's — it ain't that. But seems 'so selfish, me going travelling and you staying at home. You are just as deserving of a good time— Bismarck, I'll take you ! You're going travelling, Bismarck!" She got a covered basket and lined it comfortably. Bismarck's lunch she pat up with her own, wrapped as dainilly in carefully ironed tissue-paper. It was getting close to time to start — Mies fiarah called within an ho'M* close — and ■he must say good-bye v* the neighbours. Putting on her shabby little black bonnet as hurriedly as her excited old fingers would allow, pinning her •nabby black shawl, looking her shabby little house— -Miss Sarah's world was in a whirl; the very air palpitated • with action. Only Bismarck, placidly marvelling in his comfortable prison, was calm. She made a second round of doors and windows, looked a last loving time into all th© shabby little rooms, and then at last was ready. There had been room, in th© valise for the lunch- / box, and the hand, usually reserved for that was free for Bismarck's heavy 'basket. Miss Sarah took it up and, balanced by the heavy bag in the other hand, went laboriously down the sunny morning road. But Miss Sarah's soul was unimpeded — light. I The great day was an annual happening. Onoe every year Miss Sarah *' travelled." It was her red-letter day to which she* looked forward eagerly .'. and upon which she happily looked -' baok. 'There had been, counting this great day, a round dozen of them. Miaa Sarah was sixty-seven. She made aer gentle, happy plans for many more travellings. In the valise were all her be*st things folded with exquisite care. The sleeves Of the best black dress were stuffed with soft paper as Miss Sarah had read - was proper for best sleeves. The nightdress Mis 6 Sarah had folded co pains- ■ takingly had never been, might never be, worn. It was a sacred night-dress, dedicated to this yearly going abroad. All , the daintiness of lac© and/ cambric that Mies Sarah's lean old body craved, to cloth© itself in was concentrated" in this one ' sheer ■'-_.•- *id dainty garment. The con- ; /Kjiousness that it was there in the valise imparted a.sense of luxuriousness and pride— made Miss Sarah walk a little straighter possibly and hold a little more loftily her small grey head. ,At Marthy Flagg's she set lown her burdeqa and opened the kitchen door with country familiarity. The family was at breakfast. ".Why, Miss Sarah, why!"— the last why due to the bonnet and shawl. , i "Yes, I've started on my travels. I'm going to ketch the half-past six train down to the Junction. I just •topped to say good-bye— no— no, I flidn't bring Bismarck for you to see, ■Jarthy. He's going travelling, too; It's time he 'saw something of th© *orld. ,H3ood-bye — good-bye. Hop© . fcou'll' hare good hay-weather, Simeon — pope the hens '11 Day well. Don't you |o to getting all^het up now, Marthy, fleshy 's you be! I wish you were all going tooj-f-good-bye." < The plain, rough faces about th© little kitchen table creased with th© humour of the occasion, as they had : sreased on eleven previous occasions ; when Miss Sarah came to say good-bye. But underneath the humour was real tenderness. Marthy Flagg got up fleshily and plodded to the door. II We'll be glad to see you back," she called after th© carefully balanced lit- ;-•. tie old figure disappearing down th© - road. "We shall miss you — miss — aoui" Miss Sarah stopped a moment at all the houses, making her hurried, excited littl© farewells and wishing good tilings to everybody. At the house next to Marthy Flagg's she hoped the baby •would get well before she got back and the baby's mother get a little snatch o' fast. At the house beyond — that they Cldn't lose the pindling heifer she'd id was taken sick again. Miss Borah's path to the station of the tiny branch road was strewn with gentle good wishes. Someone in Little River had named Miss Sarah the Well wisher, and the name clung to her. It was > not an empty title, but went, everyone L knew, with gentle deeds. But to-day Sarah had only time for >. the BHsishes. s Z Aboard the on© car that jerk©d and tfwayed directly behind the engine, Miss Sarah sank back with a long sigh. She hoped "they would not start at once; she did not want to begin out of breath. And every moment, being precious, she longed to prolong. " We're going to start in a minute, Bismarck," she whispered into the basket. "You'll feel a jolt and we'll be going! I'll open th© basket and toi you look out, maybe." ■ It was not a new "prospect" to Miss Sarah. She knew all the fields and pastures and scattered homes along ,' the way — which was not a long way — ; • to the Junction. But there w©r© ■••'■ plenty of new things to see- — new shingles on old roofs, new-planted crops, new little sun-burned children. Miss Sarah watched th© clothes-lines and smiled with pleasur© at the discovery of tiny long clothes onVthem. She held tightly in her arms the great soft bulk •f Bismarck and mad© aloud her delighted comments. Already the new wine of youth and change and travel tingled in her old veins. - In less than half an hour the littl© train jeTked its modest way into the great train-shed of the Junction and the real -excitement of the day began. What went before was only th© thin soup that heralds the feast. Miss Sarah, valise and Bismarck descended to the^ platform in a twitter of delicious anticipation. There was her own particular vantage point to secure if pos-sible—-the seat that commanded all entrances impartially, and was nearest to the ajiot the train-announcer usually selected at which to shout his trains. It was 'empty! Joyously Miss Sarah bore down upon it. Quite familiarly and at her ease she threaded ths crowd — Mias Sarah was an experienced traveller. This especial Junction was the* meet-ing-point of two great lines as well as of several little branches like the one to Little River. The big station had a fine, metropolitan air, and was always filled with a bustling throng of tourists. Its restaurant and news-stand, waiting-room and long, covered platform were Miss Sarah's wonder and pride. As one of its old patrons she considered herself eligible to pride in J*s jrlories. W\e enjoyment began at once. Th© plain face under the black bonnet beamed good wishes on the entire roomful at large, then Miss. Sarah proceeded to jrfcK out her particular " folks." That young mother over there in the, corner jogging a fretting baby in a monoton-

ous, patient way — Miss Sarah sat and watched her closely and made her interested inferences. The poor thing was tired out — then she'd been there a good while. The baby lurched and fumed futilely — then the baby was teething. It was hard to travel with a teething baby. Miss Sarah saw her first opportunity. " Bismarck " — she set the big basket on the 6eat — " you keep this plac© for me. I'm coming right back. And, crossing the room, she accosted the young mother with the fretting child. " Dearie, you let me hold him a little spell.' You come acrost and sit with me — there's a seat next to mine. You're all wore out." Yes, oh yes, the young mother was all " wore out," and the chance to rest her arms was 6orely needed. Moreover, Miss Sarah's face was a plain index to her kind old heart. With a sigh of relief the young mother surrendered her xmeasy burden and followed with her bags across the room to Bismarck. " But your train — you might miss it," she said as they sat down. Miss Sarah smiled and dandled the baby. "I'm going to stay all day," Miss Sarah said with gentle finality. "Oh," smiled the other, a little puzzled but reassured. "That's a longer wait than mine, but, mercy, it seems as if I'd been here all day 1 I've got an hour more." "Have you had anything to eat? — no breakfast ? And been travelling all night! Well, now, you go get you a nice cup o' tea this minute. I'll be right here when you come back, an' the baby, too! I shouldn't be a mite surprised if he dropped off to sleep." The young mother turned impulsively. "I guess you've had plenty of babies of your own," she said and wondered at the sudden dimming of the radiance in Miss Sarah's. eyes. The old face descended suddenly to the level of the tiny, new face and, the faded cheek touched softly the little, round, cool one. " No," Miss Sarah sighed gently, " but I've had plenty of other folks's. Other folks have been real good to me. If you can't have your own that's next best, my dear." : Trains came and went. . The bustle was delightful to travel-hungry Miss Sarafi, and th© raucous, strained voice of the train-announcer was music in her ears. After the young mother and the baby went away she cast about her for new acquaintances, for Miss Sarah could not exist friendless for even a day. A lorn young maiden going off on her first quest for independence and hard-earned experiences, a raw youth in the awkward consciousness of his .first long trousers, a frightened old woman, a garrulous old man — Miss Sarah got acquainted' with them all in a gentle, Miss Sarah way. All their little stories opened to her and made interesting pages in her book of great days. "The Experiences of a Traveller," it might aptly be called, and this would be the twelfth chapter. "Bismarck," whispered Mies Sarah into the chinks of the big basket, " I'm having a beautiful time, aren't youP And we've got a whole half day left! We'll eat our dinner scon's the Scared Old Woman's train comes. I've got to see she gets on all right. It must be hard travelling when you ain't used to it." / • Miss Sarah was used to it. The confusion and clatter and din of voices only set her pulses beating a little faster than usual; she was serenely unafraid. The hard seats were " flowery beds of ease "to Miss Sarah. The slow hands lof the great station clock moved too fast for her. "This is the Montreal through express, Bismarck, that's coming now. Hear the man calling it out— stop purring and, listen! You think of itMontreal ! Supposing we — Bismarck, it's almost like going on it! You and me and the valise " Miss Sarah had ecstatic mental visions. Her old eyes gleamed. She had been in the same way to New York, to Boston — to uttermost .parts. In one great day one can, if rightly minded, go so far. Miss Sarah was rightly minded. \ The family was on the through ■express, but, it would seem, not going through. Miss Sarah watched it alight on the platform, member by member. 'She counted excitedly. Nine! " Nine, Bismarck ! That's beautiful. T never remember nine before. There's a mother and aunt or nurse or something, and the ■rest's dear little children. They're coming toward our seat!" i Babies and baggage, they stowed; themselves in a long row beginning beside Miss Sarah. Into the very next seat to her sank the mother of many with a long-drawn sigh. She was a dainty, naturally pretty woman, but travel-fretted and worn. The voice that should be sweet sounded rasped, impatient. • * "Well, we're all here. Getting off and on is such nervous work! "Give me the baby, Bergitta, and go and tell them all to move from their seats at the peril of their lives!. We've got two hours to i wait and it may" kill them, but so would getting run! over! You'd better move Lawrence up nearer me, and tell Elliott and Katherine they can play cat's cradle — get them a string." • i Bergitta was the maid, it seemed. Her Tound, pink and white Swedish face was frowning with anxiety. Seven were too many for one mother and one maid. Miss Sarah's fingers and feet and heart tingled to help. She knew she could offer ; it wae only a matter of time. Suddenly she decided not to lose any time. "Couldn't I take the baby?" She turned to the fretted mother. " There's so many others for you to see to. I could a« well as not. Land a-living, better than not !" She laughed softly. "When you don't have any o' your own it's next best to hold other folks's babies." Th c dainty woman warmed to the plain old face. "Thank you, but he's so afraid of strangers. He's a little eoosie, aren't you, Ned? Yes, there are a good many of us when you count us up! But there ouerht to be two more. My husband had to give up coming at the last minute, and the other maid failed me. I shall /be thankful if we all {ret home whole!" _ " t oh, I guess you will, dearie." Optimism was native to Miss Sarah. She wa6 not conscious that a she said "dearie"; it was th© audible symbol of a sympathy bound to express itself. " Well, if th© baby won't com©, let m© tak© car© of some o' th© others. If there's one that's a littl© nimbler 'n th© rest •" "There is — Lawrence," laughed th© mother of seven, "but I could not think of imposing him upon a stranger !" " 'Impose him' right on me," commanded Miss Sarah gently. "Is that him the nurse is bringing this 1 way? Why, he's a little dear. Little dear, don't you want to know what I've got , in my basket? Something alive! If you'll come here and eit with me " Lawrence came, sidling. "Is it a 'normous tiger?" " No, a 'normous — peep in, dearie, and see. " Kitty 1" Bismarck and Lawrence eyed each other at close quarters. In the liquid eyes of the great cat bewilderment was succeeded by kindly condescension. The interrupted purring began again. It is to b e questioned if any "other feline but Bismarck would have purred contentedly in captivity, with a roar of unaccustomed noises in his ear. , Miss Sarah regarded him with pride. " He likes to travel as much as anybody," she said. "Yes, dearie, you can pat him — gently, see, like I do. I know! — you sit right here beside him and take care o' him for me! That will be beautiful." As, indeed it proved, xiie soft purring of Bismarck, combined with the unwonted activity to produce a soporific effect. Lawrence's

tumbled little head lopped heavily toward Miss Sarah's lap, till it rested there in the abandonment of sound Bleep. "Of all things! Bergitta, will you look!" the mother of Lawrence whispered. "He never goes to 6leep when we're travelling. If you knew the relief !" turning gratefully to Miss Sarah. j ''You've bewitched him." ■ ! " No, no, not me — Bismarck ! He sang him to sleep, bless him !" And it might have been either the big gray cat or the tiny boy that Miss Sarah blessed. She was very happy; it waß turning out such a beautiful day. Alrsady so much had happened and there was time for so much more. Mise Sarah, perhaps it was well for heT gentle equanimity, could not foresee what marvellous happening was yet in store *or her. At , present the whir] and stir all about her and the warm spot on her knee where the little head of Lawrence lay was all she needed of bliss. | Gradually Miss Sarah and the mother of seven interchanged experiences, as women will. Misa Sarah listened in wonderment to chance reference to a tyeat city mansion such as she had only dreamed of in her day-dreams — to careless mention of servants and horses, of wealth and luxury. Putting the random pieces together, it made a fairy story to Miss Sarah. She felt the first ■ sharp pincE of envy. I In her turn the mother of 6©yen became possessed of the threadbare little details of Miss S.'.rah's eventless existence. She was taken into confidence concerning the great day, which was today. "I come ©very year," Miss Sarah said simply. " This time I brought Bismarck. There's as much happening to us to-day as is likely to happen all the rest o', the time till next year. We've got to make it last over." | " But I don't understand — quite . ; Aren't you going somewhere from here?" Miss Sarah smiled. "Yes," she said, "home l On the last train there :is to go on. Mebbe I didn't make it real plain before. On© day every yea** I come out here to the Junction — I | live at Little River, a little ways off— 1 and set here all day watching folks travel. It's next best." The mother of seven turned slowly and looked at the plain old face, across the little bridge of Lawrence. It had suddenly taken on pathos; she read in it a lifelong yearning to see the world. And this one day in a crowded railway junction had been her only wayl It must last a year. A long express train thundered with echoings and re-echoings into the coverjed train shed. There was renewed excitement and confusion. An outgoing ' stream of humanity met an incoming one, and the two appeared inextricably tangled. Mia? Sarah's lon cine eyes turned to follow the outrunning stream. "Bergitta! Bergjtta!" The mother of seven sprane to her feet. " This is our train — quick, give me the baby, Bereitta I You must get the children. ■ in line — no, you must take Lawrence! He wakes up so slowly; it will never do to wait " "I'll line up the children." interposed Mias Sarah eagerly. She went j about it in a capable way, as if she had always been accustomed to form little restless processions and marshal them to the steps of waiting trains. When they were all safely lifted up she stood back, a useless little old woman again. The pleasant stir of excitement, the thrill of importance at being jneed- | ed, the joy of pushing, and hoisting little heavy bodies— they were all past things now. But Mies Sarah refused io be lonely or old. She smiled upward at the little faces as they appeared at the car windows and waved briskly back at the mother of seven. When the lone train drew away she went back to Bismarck. " They're gone but there's more to come. There's most three hours left, Bismarck! Any amount o* beautiful things can happen inside o* three hours." But Miss Sarah did not know it was to be one sad thing. From the other direction a train came lumbering under the big shed, statrting up_ the echoes again. Miss Sarah straightened for action. Her mornins: zeal and keen relish for " travelling " had not in the least abated. She meant to make the most ' of the three hours that were left. And in her mind was already forming a resolve — ehe confided it to Bismarck — to come hereafter twice a year. " Before we get too old to come at all," she said, "we must make the most of the time we can come, Bismarck. Yes, yes, you too. Aren't you having a beautiful time? Oh, Bismarck, aren't we having a beautiful time ! It will be so hard to go home." | But Miss Sarah did not know. She ■ went out on the platform to watch the ; new train unload its living freight — "and its tiny dead, one. She saw the little box lifted carefully down, but it wae only a little box to her then. Miss Saorah in her yearly travellings had never come upon this phaso of travel. It was the newness of it that for a merciful moment kept her ignorant. Then she saw the young mother in her black clothes go hurrying up toward the little white deal box and refuse to leave it. For an instant Miss | Sarah caught sight of the stricken, wild young face. She went nearer and heard the wild words : , "No, no, I won't go! I tell you I shall stay with my baby! Do -you think I would have her out here alone?" j Miss Sarah could not hear the other i voice, but she could see the other face. It was .& man's, young and anguished. "Rest? Do you think I could rest in there ? She was always afraid to be left alone. I always stayed with her! If she was your baby, would you be ■willing " Miss Sarah did not . hear the rest of the poor, crazed speech,' i for her eyes were on the young man's face and she 6aw that it was his baby. She saw him put tender, forcing hands on his wife, putting his own sorrowing aside till there was time for it. Miss Sarah, all the joy gone out of her day, stood gently in their way. ! "My dear, my dear!" — it was to the mother that she spoke — "let me stay for you! You go with him and rest. Don't look at the outside o 7 me and say she's a 6trange old woman — look at my heart that loves little babies so! And they never are afraid o' me ! . My dear, won't you let me stay? I'll stay right close till you come back. I'll take good car© o 5 i her !" The plain, old face was no longer I plain. The divine love of a forbidden mother for the little child she never was given transfigured it, and the dead child's mother saw. " She won't be afraid with me," whispered Miss Sarah. For nearly an hour she kept her watoh. The rough men on the plat- , form left her a wide, clear space and spoke low when they passed. She seemed to have the little box to herself in a great silence. Sounds and sights around her made no impress on her mind. She could almost look with 1 the eyes of her pity through the little lid at the baby's face. She knew it was beautiful. She knew the little hair was soft, the little hands were round and dimple-pricked. It broke her heart to have so beautiful a baby dead. She took care of it — and the baby was not afraid. Afterward, when they had gone with the little box Mies Sarah stood in a strange daze till someone touched her arm. It was one of the rough men, indefinably akin at . that

moment to her — only his fatherhood had not been forbidden, him. "You've stood an awful while — don't you want I should help you into the waitin'-room an' fix you up nice?" Slie • looked at him, still in her daze but • smiling gently. "Oh, no, lam going ' home," she said. There was a train two hours earlier than the last one that she usually took. ' She liad just time to get her bag and '. i the heavy basket and get aboard it. ; She was in a little fever of hurry ; she [ could not bear the thought of missing it. Once in the seat, slie drew a long > breath of relief. i " We're going home, Bismarck. ' We'll get there two hours sooner I > ■ There'll be time to sit on the porch a L I little while before we go to bed. We're • i pretty tired, but home's a good place to rest." She -felt old and home- ;', sick. " Travelling is kind o' hard work — perhaps we're too old to go again, Bismarck. I shouldn't wonder ' much. Seeing so many folks " 1 She shut her eyea. She did not want to see them all. '. " I'll make a cup o* tea and get you your milk. I'll warm itl Wait till : you see how good it tastes! Here, I look out the window a minute and see I how near we're getting I" At the little country '- station she alighted quickly. Its familiar shabbiness soothed her torn heart like the ' homely face of a friend. She gazed • about her, comforted. In a window a row of gay geraniums flaunted their blossom. Miss Sarah, went up to them and sniffed them joyously. One or two buds she was sure had opened while she was gone. She walked away up the road, balancing her heavy burdens. The air felt pleasant on her old face, the trees nodded in it as if greeting her on her return — the very dust she waded through was soft, friendly dust. At the houses, as she came to them, slie stopped a moment with eager interest lin what had been happening during | her travels. The pindling heifer was better again — they'd saved it after all ! Miss Sarah was glad. At the next house she was happier still, for the baby had had a good day. He was sitting up in his little high, chair playing languidly. "Oh, my dear!" — Mies Sarah dropped her burdens and went up to the weary little mother — "you've got so much to be thankful for -that he isn't in — that he's in his little chair ! You're tired out, poor dear, but put your cheek down against hie and feel how warm it is !" The next house was Marthy Flagg's. Marthy came out to meet her. What in the world — as early as this ! "You ain't got tired of travellin'l Why, you've always waited till the last train I" "I did get tired," Mies Sarah admitted, "along tovard tlie last. It's tiring work when you're growing kind, o' old, Marthy. I shouldn't wonder if T settled down now." Marthy Flagg's keen eyes were on the saddened face. What in the world " Weren't things goin' on same's always? Didn't anything happen?" "Yes," Miss Sarah said gently. She began to search hurriedly in her bag. " Where's the children? Here are the checkerberry lozenges. I got 'em the first thing, so's not to forget. They're in a new kind o' package, but I guess there's just as many. And I got you a little something, Maa-thy — just a little something to remember the day by." But Miss Sarah was aware, with a little shudder, that she did not want to remember the day. They tried to keep her to Bupper, but no, noj she must get home, she and Bismarck, to open the house and air it. She went hurriedly so that they would not urge her. The big cat, Btill in the basket, stirred restlessly. " Yes, yes, pretty soon, but not quite yetl" Miss Sarah soothed him. "I want to let you out on your own doorstep. Here we are at the old chestnut, Bismarck — we're halfway from Marthy 's." And a little further along: " We're coming to the currant bushes now — we"' re past 'em. Bismarck, here's the pump!" It was a beautiful pump. The tiny house, the shed, the little straggling bushes, were beautiful. Miss Sarah uncovered the basket and held out her arms ac if to embrace them all — house, pump and great gray cat. " It's good to get home., Bismarck !" she cried.