GRANDMA'S SETTING HEN.
"I THOUGHT Kitty Maynard was an old woman, mamma," said Maurice, just
before they reached home.
"Kitty is only nineteen years old," the lady answered. "I remember her,
when she was as healthy and active as you. Sometime I will tell you her
story. Now I feel too sad to talk with you about anything."
"Will she eat the strawberries, mamma?"
"Perhaps so, by and by. Her sister, Hepsey Maynard, told me she was
very fond of them, and that they agreed well with her."
"You have made a long call," remarked grandma, as they entered. "I
suppose you waited to see Kitty dressed in her new gown."
"No, mother, she didn't know me to-day. I just hung it on a hook in the
closet and said nothing about it."
"Is she worse than usual?"
"I have never seen her so dreadfully convulsed. The doctor says she
can't endure it long. He has decided to try the effect of a new method
of treatment."
Maurice soon ran out to improve his holiday by visiting his favorite
haunts around the farm. Ponto, the old dog, was sunning himself in
front of his comfortable house, and came lazily forward, blinking his
eyes, to meet the little fellow. It was evident, even to the boy, that
his days for frolic and fun were over. After a few loving pats and kind
words:
"Poor Ponto! Good fellow!" Maurice ran on toward the barn.
Here he found plenty to amuse him. There were a couple of kids with
their anxious mother bleating because they were out of her sight.
Maurice laughed heartily as he watched their manœuvres. The old goat
was tied to a ring in the stall; but the kids, being free to run where
they liked, kept her worrying for their safety by hiding beyond the
high enclosure, or creeping over a huge pile of straw bedding.
The dinner bell rang twice before he heard it. He could scarcely
believe the morning had passed away.
"I do like holidays so much," he exclaimed. "I wish, mamma, you'd let
me wait till next Monday before I begin my lessons."
Mamma shook her head. "Play as much as you please to-day," she answered
pleasantly. "After that, you can decide for yourself whether to linger
over your books for six hours or apply yourself vigorously for three."
"Hasn't he outgrown that habit of dawdling over his lessons?" asked
grandpa, looking at the boy with an arch smile that brought the blushes
to his cheek.
"He'll answer for himself to-morrow," replied the lady.
About four o'clock in the afternoon, Mrs. Seyton put on her bonnet
again, to go to Mr. Maynard's cottage, when Maurice ran in, his apron
full of eggs.
"Oh, grandma, see what I've found," he cried, "while I was feeding the
fowls. There was a cross old hen setting on 'em, and I had to take a
stick and whip her before she'd get off."
"Why, Maurice Seyton, you've spoiled a whole brood of chickens! They'd
have been out of the shell in two or three days. It's a terrible pity
you touched 'em."
[Illustration: Maurice feeding Grandma's Fowls.]
Grandpa then explained to him the danger of disturbing the mother hen
when she was hatching her young; and he was so much disappointed that
he began to cry.
"I never will drive off another hen," he said, winking back his tears.
"I do love little mites of chickens, dearly."
His mother gave him permission to accompany her again to see Kitty, and
waited while he washed his face and changed his sack.
Kitty lay perfectly quiet, now, her poor, deformed fingers outside the
white counterpane. Her transparent skin showed the blue veins in her
forehead, but the peace of God was manifest there also.
"Had I better go in?" whispered Mrs. Seyton to Hepsey at the door.
"Yes, she knows you've been here, and she'd be disappointed not to see
you; but she can't talk much."
Mrs. Seyton walked softly to the bed, followed by Maurice, and bending
over the pale sufferer, kissed her cheek.
It was delightful to see the bright flush of pleasure that for one
instant beautified Kitty's whole face, then she said feebly,—
"Thank you for coming. Is that your son?"
Maurice shyly gave his hand.
"I am sorry to see you so feeble and languid," began the lady.
"I am seldom so weak as to-day. I have had a comfortable winter on the
whole, and so many blessings." These words were uttered with great
emphasis, and with a smile.
"God is so merciful," the dear girl went on, "whenever I have worse
spasms than usual, he gives me patience to endure them."
"That I am sure of," was Mrs. Seyton's tearful reply.
"And then he raises up so many friends for me. Sometimes, in the night,
I lie and think of all he has done for me during the past nine years;
and I can hardly keep from singing: 'Praise the Lord, O my soul; and
forget not all his benefits.'"
[Illustration]