Jasper County Democrat, Volume 9, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 August 1906 — An Unofficial Saint [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

An Unofficial Saint

By Grant Owen

ThW little parlor with Its haircloth furniture, its gaudy rag carpet, Its stuffed birds and its impossible chromos was a dismal place at best, but nOw with the double row of chairs still ranged stiffly al>out the sides of it and the feeble light of an unshaded keroaene lamp emphasizing all its barren Ugliness It seemed a veritable desert of a room. Sarah Biddle sat primly erect on the sofa, her bluck bordered handkerchief crushed between her hands. She was vaguely resentful of this unwonted solitary dignity she was forced to maintain. She wanted to be out In the kitchen washing dishes. This sitting •till with folded hands like a visitor in one's own bouse was In nowise pleasing to her, but she realized that tonight at least It was expected of her, • and Sarah was not one of those intrepid souls who can throw conventionality to the winds. It was all over. The last mourning i relative—fortified by the ample post funeral supper—had condoled with her, i wept with her and departed tralnward. I The only sound to break the stillness i was the clatter of dishwashing at the I kitchen sink, where two sympathetic (neighbors plied their dish towels and j discussed the late sad function very minutely. Sarah moved uneasily ou the sofa. No one could wash dishes to suit her; she would have to do them all over tomorrow before she put them away. She ached to get at them now, not only to have them done properly, but to relieve the strain of this unwonted i activity. This, however, was clearly Impossible according to the precedent ,of the community. To have a mind for household duties before the morrow would savor of callousness. She beard the gate latch click and then the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the gravel walk. She leaned forward, listening Intently. Any diversion would be welcome to her tense nerves. Presently the front door opened softly and was softly closed.

Blie was aware that some one had tiptoed clumsily into the room. She looked up to find a pair of good uatured •yes regarding her whimsically. “Good evenin’, Keth,” she said without rising. "Won't you set down?” Seth Uarltou selected u straight backed chair in the front row, jerked It forward and sat down awkwurdly. “I run over to see how you was gettin’ on,” he explained. “Oh, nicely!” she replied. “Everybody's been so good. An', Seth, I want to thank you uow.” “What for?” he demanded brusquely. “For all you done,” said she, “Axin' up tub hedge an' looklu’ after the horses today un’ bein’ one of the bearers.” She paused u moment. “Don’t yon till nk everything passed off well?” alia asked,, He nodded abstractedly. He appeared to be thinkiug deeply. “Sarah,” he said at length, looking at her with that penetration of gaze she always found rather disconcerting, “do you know I was sort of provoked today ?' "Provoked?” There were surprise and wonder and disbelief In her voice. “Yes, provoked,” he repeated flatly. Her eyes questioned him, but she waited silently for him to go on. “I was listenin’ to what lots of them folks had to say to you today,” he resumed slowly. “I heard ’em talkin’ about his sufferin’ an’ his patience. I heard one of ’em gay he was a regular aalnt on earth.” “Wasn’t he?” lifer tone was very calm, bnt there was a hint of challenge in It. “I’d be the last one to deny it,” said be, “but what made me provoked was that them folks only looked at one side at It There wam’t none of ’em that •poke of your sufferin' or yonr patience." She wa* alient Her hand* were nervously twisting and untwisting the black bordered handkerchief. A spot es color came into either cheek. t “Mind, I know your father was one

of the best men," he said sturdily, "but It made me mad that they didn’t tell the other side of It—that you are one of the best women. Didn’t you give up everything for him? Where have you been for the past ten years? Nowheres. What have you done all that time except take care of him? Nothin’. Ain’t you suffered an’ been patient? Didn’t you give up the man you loved so you could spend all your time takin’ care of your father? Sarah, if I was goin’ to name a regular saint on earth I’d name you 1” It was a long speech for Beth Carlton to make. He sat back in the chair, rather surprised at bis own statement of his feelings. Sarah smiled feebly. ‘‘lt warn’t so much as you make out,” she protested. He grunted. “Didn’t It mean nothin’ to you that night, ten years back, when you told me you could never marry me so long as be lived?" The color spots brightened In her cheeks. “Didn’t It?” he persisted. “yes,” she admitted slowly. “An’ hasn't it meant somethin' all them ten years?” She nodded her reply, for her eyes brimmed with tears and there was a lump In her throat. “Talk about patience an’ sufferin’ an' saints on earth!" he exclaimed. “Them folks ain’t got eyes to see beyond their noses. That’s what made me provoked.” He rose and stalked up and down the room. At last be paused before her. “You’ve been a salntln’ of It about long enough,” be said; “you've done your duty—more’n done It—an’ I’ve •waited for you for ten most unsalntl.v years. Now, next Saturday I want you”— “Not so soon at that, Seth,” she begged. “Next Saturday,” he said Inexorably. “An’ we’ll go on to Washington an’ stay a month, an’ to New York an’ to Pbiladelphy. Yonr salntln' days are over. It's time yon had ft chance to be Just a woman for awhfle.” “I can’t—not so soon,” she protested. "Did I say a word durln' them ten years?” be asked. She shook her head. “Hadn’t that ought to count for somethin’?” “Yes, I suppose it had; but Seth”— He smiled almost grimly as he played his trump card. "I’ve bought the tickets,” he said gently. Suddenly she began to weep without restraint He watched her In silence. Intuitively he knew that these were not tears of sorrow. After a time he •at beside her on the sofa and awkwardly stroked her hair. “You ain’t goln’ to know what care or sorrow Is if I can help It” he declared. Unconsciously he bad raised his voice. “Hush—oh, hush!” she whispered. “They’ll hear you out In the kitchen. Mis’ Jones an’ Mis’ Parsons are out there washln’ dishes.” “Think I care if they do?” he said defiantly. “I ain’t a mite ashamed of It. Are you ?” She lifted her eyes to his and smiled. It was a wonderful smile. Somehow the room eeemed to lose much of Its desolation, even as her face lost its many traces of years and patient suffering. “I’ll be ready Saturday,” she said.

“IF I WAS GOIN TO NAME A REGULAR SAINT ON EARTH I'D NAME YOU.”