Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 December 1886 — NELLE'S NOBLE DEEDS. [ARTICLE]

NELLE'S NOBLE DEEDS.

BY ABBIE C. M’KEEVER.

“Thimble Alley! Oh, what a dreadful place; but there’s no one can mend my laces equal to Mrs. Smith. Little boy, does Mrs. Rachel Smith live here?” “Yes’m, fifth story, first door to your and the ragged urchin eyed the fine lad.v with wide, op. n eyes. “Lor', ain’t she some?” he said, to a near companion, “all sliiny-like and soft. Whoopee! if mammy had some o’ her fib cry we’d have a holiday dinner well as Biddy O’Brien.” s “He! he! hi! Tim,” roared the other, “the idee of £ dinner out o’ finery.” “I meant to seil it, you know well enough. I wonder who she is?” But in the meantime Nellie Strong had ranched the fifth floor and stood, almost otft of breath, gazing about the wretched hallway where poverty held sway. “How can they live so?” she thought. “What horrid odors, and there's a half dozen babies crying below. Poor little things!” then she knocked on the door before her. “Come in,” called out a woman’s voice. Nellie pushed the creaking door open and entered the small, bare chamber. At its one window a woman sat mending some costly lace. In a corner on a cot reclined a pale, young girl. There was no fire in the room, although the air was keen and frosty. “Good morning, Mrs. Smith. I called With some work; 1 wanted this lace mended particularly before the ball, and so I sought you out myself. ” “Yes, Miss Strong; be seated, pray. Let me look at the lace, please?” Nellie took the one vacant chair and turned her bright eves upon the pale young girl on the cot. “Are you an invalid?” she gently inquired. “Oh, yes; I have been one always. I never could walk, but I do not suffer much now.” “You don’t mean to tell me that you have lain here all your life!” cried Nellie, “and never saw nnything but these bare walls?” “Almost all my life. It isn’t so bad for you would think. The neighbors are kind, and mother brings me a flower now and then, and we talk of what might be if I could grow stronger. Talk is cheap,” entiled the invalid. “I don’t think I could do this before Wednesday. Will that answer, Miss Strong?” “Oh, yes,” said Nellie, carelessly, “it does not matter at all. But tell me, Mrs. Smith, have you ever consulted a good physician about your daughter?” “I have often wished to do so, but could not afford it.” Just then a little tow-headed, dirty-faced girl of five or six years thrust her head in the doorway. “Please, Miss Smith, the baby’s worser. Mother thinks it’s dyin’.” “Oh!” exclaimed Nellie, “whose baby?” “An Irish woman’s dow r n stairs. An attack of croup; the weather has been cool, and the little fellow caught cold. Yes, Mary, I’ll come. You’ll excuse me a moment, Miss Strong.” “Yes; but may not I go, too—poor little baby?” And timidly drawing her silken skirts about her, she followed Mrs. Smith into the room of the Irish washerwoman, where upon a straw bed lay a little six-months-old baby dying, as was evident at a glance. “He’s the third one,” sobbed the poor mother. “I’ve only four left, and his father couldn’t stop work long enough to see him die, his boss is that hard on him. My baby! oh, my baby!” Nellie drew out a bill from her purse and placed it in the poor mother’s hand. “You llneed things for—for the funeral,” she said, softly; “take it. I’ll come and see you again.” “Lord love your sweet face,” cried the woman, with a wild fit of weeping. “You’re that kind, mum, I don’t know how to thank you. It’ll be the first dead child that I could ever pay for its coffin. Oh, how sweet he’ll lcok all in white!” As they passed out of the room of death a party of men came up the stairs bearing a limp form between them. • “What is it?” asked Nellie, of Mrs. Smith, drawing closer to her. “Some accident, evidently. What has happened, Pete?” she inquired of one of the men. “Mr. Swasher fell from the building, a matter of twenty feet, and we think both

his legs are broken. There comes the doctor.” “Poor man,” sighed Mrs. Smith. “I don’t know what wi'l become of his family; he was their only support. You look inexpressibly pained. These things are common enough to all large tenements. We see sorrow and suffering around ns continually. ” And she wondered why the lady followed her up to her room again. “I wish,” said Nellie to the invalid girl, “yon would allow me to send you our family physician; he is one of the best in the city. I think he can help you.” “Oh, if you only would!” exclaimed the mother. “Lulu might be helped, I have always believed.” “Yes; and, Mrs. Smith, you need not hurry about the lace. I don’t think I’ll need it, but I’ll pay you for the work now. And —you ought to have a fire—good-day.” Before Mrs. Smith could get her glasses on to examine the bill in her lap, her visitor had gone. “Oh, Lulu!” she exclaimed, “it’s a twen-ty-dollar bill; sho’s made a mistake.” But Lulu wiped away a tear from her wan cheek, and smiled up in her mother’s face. “No mistake, mother; the beautiful lady meant it for us. I 6aw her eyes were full of tears. Heaven bless her tender heart!” “I presume the birthday party and so on is being rushed along,” said Mr. Strong, as his daughter entered the diningroom. “How big a check is to be called for, pet? Don’t be too hard on vour old father.” *

Nellie did not reply at once; she took her place at the table, glanced over the dainty appointments, the snowy damask silken fine, the costly silver, the beautiful fiowers, the rare fruits, and all the luxuries that wealth can give. Then her eyes wandered to her two fair young sisters, and her mother’s face behind the trav, and lastly to Ler father's face, who just now was regarding her with smiling, quizzical eyes. “Papa, ’’ she said, flushing slightly, “I—l want a generous check, true enough, but I think I’ll rearrange my programme.” “I thought so,” smiied her father. “What a tell-tale face you possess. What’s the latest freak? out with it.” il Oh, Nellie, everything was perfect; invitations all ready to send out. You’re not going to spoil our party,” cried her sisters. “I hope not,” said Nellie; “but first I want to tell you all about my visit to Thimble Alloy. ” She told it as it was. and at its close the youngest of the girls exclaimed: “I know now, Nellie; you thought what a big sensation your party would make in Thimblo Alley.” “Yes,” said Nellie, “if papa is willing.” “My eldest born,” said her father fondly, “your papa’s purse has a long string, still it might be stretched too far. I always did dislike the fuss of a party, and I guess I can trust your prudent head to control your tender heart. Hive tho ThimbloAlleyites a generous dinner on your birthday and what you will. I’ll see that Dr. Moore calls upon tho lace-mender’s daughter.”

Not fairy hands, oh, no! hut human, loving hands that did the work; some of them rough and black that shoveled in the coal into the empty boxes; some of them small and chapped that helped along their dinner. But wnen the stars shone out, not one in that large tenement building went to sleep cold or hungry on that holiday night. “Mother,” said Lulu softly, “the doctor says I will soon be well enough to wneel my chair all around, and that possibly, some day, I may walk about with the help of crutches.” “Yes, my darling, I know.” “And when I told him all about Miss Strong’s noble deeds, and praised her tender h j art, be smiled and looked so pleased I read his secret. May Heaven bless them both.” “Amen,” breathed her mother tearfully.