Rensselaer Union, Volume 11, Number 26, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 March 1879 — A LITTLE CANDLE. [ARTICLE]

A LITTLE CANDLE.

Cora sat on the steps of the back porch. It was a rainy, muddy day, and she could not go to the zoological gardeiis, where her Aunt Louisa had promised to take her. She had been late in coming dpwn to breakfast, too, and had been sent back in disgrace to wash her hands again. Lotty had said she would dress her doll; but Lotty was cross. There was no chance of any fun anywhere. Neither was there a crack in the dreary horizon to let a glimmer of light through, dr to give Cora a chance to hope that the sky would clear. She grumbled angrily at Horace, at the nurse, and even at pussy; but what difference do the moods of such a very little girl make in the great world? If Cora could have had an opinion on the subject (which she had not), she would have said that her ill-temper could not possibly injure anybody or anything, unless it was her wretched kitten. Horace stopped on the step above her, and stood swinging his sachel. It was a dismal day for Horace, too. He did not know his Latin, and was pretty sure of a long score of demerits. He, too, felt like venting his ill-humor on something or somebody. Cora’s red hair looked temptingly bright. If he should give it a tug as he passed, and shout, “Carrot!” how she would rage! But then he caught sight of her unhappy little face, and felt a twinge of pity at his own heart. “ Halloo, little sister!” he cried; ‘‘take a walk with Horace?” Now that meant a journey to the baker’s at the corner, and a plum tait. Cora had taken “ walks” before with her big brother when he was in funds, so she now trotted along at his side, chattering and laughing, and presently came dancing back, her mouth purple with plum juice. She was so happy that she must give poor Lotty—who had had no tart—some pleasure. “ I’ll lend you my fairy-book to read after school, if you’ll bring it back safe. Now you’ll take good care of it, ‘ word and-honor ?’ ” •* ~

“Why, you darling child, of course I will!” and Lotty kissed her and flew up-stairs for the long-coveted treasure. What a splendid time she would have that afternoon with Prue Ridgely readingjt! On the front steps Lotty met Ann, the cook, coming from the milk-cart. “Oh, Ann,” she cried, good-natured-ly, “ I’ll write that letter to Ireland for you this evening! I forgot it last week. Have the pen and paper all ready and we’ll give your old mother a big budget of news.” Ann went down into the kitchen laughing. She hail been cross for a week, brooding over Lbtty’s forgotten promise. “ She’s a good-hearted child, afther all,” she muttered. “It’s a shame fur me to sloight me cookin’. They’re a noice family. I’ll take more pains wid the steak of the owld jontleman this momin’.” The “owld jontleman”. was Lotty’s uncle, Jacob Ferris, who lived with her father. He was very rich, very dyspeptic and very full of whims. His digestive organs were in such a condition that a greasy, heavy dish would send him down street nauseated, wretched and intolerably cross. His breakfast- was always carried to his room after the rest of the “family had scattered for the day. “Well, well, what’s this?” he growled, as the servant brought up the tray. “ Chops swimming in fat, I puppose! That Ann is becoming unendurable! _ Ah!” as the-tray was set before him. “ Why, this steak is deliciously cooked! and the cakes are light as cakes could be made! Well; well, well, miracles will never cease!”

The old gentleman enjoyed his breakfast at his leisure, slipped a shining silver piece under the plate for Ann, and then, with a clear head and uncomplaining stomach, he walked smilingly down town. Now in one of the little Streets through which he passed lived Godfrey Pratt, his assistant book-keeper. Pratt’s salary was seven hundred a year, little enough to support his wife and two babies. Th® house in which they lived was a tiny little place, very poor and very neat. The two Rabies, whose happy little faces used to peep out of the parlor windows ab|OUt the time when papa came home, Were always prettily and comfortably clothed; but by the time clothes and food had been paid for, Godfrey had hardly a dollar left. 1 The little tots were not at the window to-d ay. Three weeks ago they had been attacked by low, malarial fever, and while their mother was nursing them, she also sank under the same disease. Poor Godfrey spent every moment th at he could spare with them. The day before, the chief book-keeper had sent for him. “How-are the siek Godfray ?-” he asked.

“ No better,” was the sad reply. “ I’m sorry for that. The truth is” —hesitating—“ Mr. Ferris has policed your frequent absence, and wished me to tell you that you must be more at-' tentive to business.” Godfrey’s thin face grew a shade paler. “Why, Mr. Whipple, my wife and children have been near to death! My ( work has not suffered; I have not written a |ine the less, or allowed my books”-- “ I know all that, Mr. Pratt; but the old gentleman is cranky at times, though, as we all know, he is not an unkind man at heart. He likes to see all the men at their places, and the business of the house goiifg on like clock-work. 1 was afraid to mention the lest the very name of malaria) fever would frighten him, and he would not allow you in the counting-room; so I thought I’d give you a hint, that you may not be absent again.” He was passing on, but Godfrey detained him. “ Stop a moment, Mr. Whipple, if you please. The doctor told me this morning that my wife and the children must have change of air, and that they must have it at once. He told me to take them to Atlantic City. It will, take every dollar I have to do it, and—and I must go with them. There is nobody to take them but me. I came out this morning determined to ask for a furlough of a week.” He spoke with desperate haste, and stood looking at Whipple with an anxious, half-frightened expression when he had ended. Mr. Whipple took off his glasses uncertainly. He was much disturbed. “Upon my word, Godfrey, I don’t know what to' say. You can’t desert your family, and yet—Mr. Ferris is very irritable just now. If I ask for a furlough for you, lam afraid he will give you leave to stay away altogether.” “That would be starvation,” said ’’Godfrey;"'’ ,r ‘ r-i 1 ’ “It is hard. We all have hard places in our lives to climb over, but you know who can help us.” With this the men had parted. When Mr. Whipple reached the office the next morning, he found Godfrey waiting at his desk.

Watching all night, and the terrible nervous strain had left his face ghastly and haggard. “Well, Mr. Pratt, what have you decided to do?” “ I shall ask for the furlough. They must go, and they cannot go alone. I can be back in two days.” Mr. Whipple shook his head. “ Mr. Ferris is so very—peculiar—I am afraid it will insure your discharge.” . “ All the same, I must ask it,” said Godfrey, desperately. “ There he is, then, going into his office. Follow him quietly.” Pratt tapped at the walnut door, and was admitted. Uncle Jacob was glancing over the morning’s paper. “ Well, sir?” he said, without looking up. Godfrey plunged into the middle of his story. His desperation made him use the strongest words, and the first which came. Mr. Ferris moved tmeasily once or twice, but the serene calm induced by his delicious steak and light cakes was not easily disturbed. When the man had ended, Mr. Ferris looked up. “You want a fur Why, Pratt, what’s the matter with you?” and he rose-quickly from his chair. “ It’s—it’s nothing, sir,” said Godfrey, faintly, staggering to the wall. “I’ve been up all night, and” “Did you eat a hearty breakfast? Nothing like a bit of juicy beef to tone a man up.” “Juicy beef!” laughed Pratt, bitterly. “Do you mean that you could not afford it? Are you hungry?” My wife’s illness and the children’s have been costly,” stammered Pratt. “Here—go out—send Whipple to me,” blustered Uncle Jacob. Whipple was called in for a ten minutes’ conference. When Pratt was summoned again Mr. Ferris had not yet recovered from Els heat. “You have your furlough, sir, for three weeks; salary continued, of course. Come back with some flesh on yoUr bones. I’m a hard employer, I know, but I don’t propose to kill my men. Your salary is raised to twelve hundred from to-day, sir. Now go—be off to your wife!” ■ So Godfrey and Mrs. Godfrey and the babies grew strong and happy in the salt air, and came back to begin a new and brighter life. Uncle Jacob went about for days with the blessed consciousness of having done a good deed, and done it well. Lotty was happy in wandering all that afternoon through fairyland. Ann wrote her letter, and there was joy and thanksgiving |n a little Irish cabin far across theseaj . But Horace.went ...to school and forfot all about the little gust of illumor which he had conquered, and his trifling kindness to his baby-sister ; for how could he know how far that little candle had shone into a naughty world?— Youths' Companion.