Family Pride

Morris had telegraphed to New York, receiving in reply that Wilford was hourly expected home, and would at once hasten on to Silverton. The clergyman, Mr. Kelly, had also been seen, but owing to a funeral which would take him out of town, he could not be at the farmhouse until five in the afternoon, when, if the child still lived, he would be glad to officiate as requested. All this Morris had communicated to Katy, who listened in a kind of stupor, gasping for breath, when she heard that Wilford would so soon be there, and moaning "that will be too late," when told that the baptism could not take place till night. Then, kneeling by the crib where the child was lying, she fastened her great, sad blue eyes upon the pallid face with an earnestness as if thus she would hold till nightfall the life flickering so faintly and seeming so nearly finished. The wailings had ceased, and they no longer carried it within their arms, but had placed it in its crib, where it lay perfectly still, save as its eyes occasionally unclosed and turned wistfully toward the cups, where it knew was something which quenched its raging thirst. Once, indeed, as the hours crept on to noon and Katy bent over it so that her curls swept its face, it seemed to know her, and the little wasted hand was for a moment uplifted and rested on her cheek with the same caressing motion it had been wont to use in health. Then hope whispered that it might live, and with a great cry of joy Katy sobbed: "She knows me, Morris--mother, see; she knows me. Maybe she will live."

But the dull stupor which succeeded to that act swept all hope away, and again Katy resumed her post, watching first her dying child, and then the long hands of the clock which crept on so slowly, pointing to only two when she thought it must be five. Would that hour never come, or coming, would it find baby there? None could answer that last question--they could only wait and pray, and as they waited thus the warm September sun neared the western sky till its yellow beams came stealing through the window and across the floor to where Katy sat watching its onward progress and looking sometimes out upon the hills where the purplish autumnal haze was lying just as she once loved to see it; but she did not heed it now, or care how bright the day with the flitting shadows dancing on the grass, the tall flowers growing by the door and old Whitey standing by the gate, his head stretched toward the house in a kind of dreamy, listening attitude, as if he, too, knew of the great sorrow hastening on so fast. The others saw all this, and it made their hearts ache more as they thought of the beautiful little child, so much fairer than sky or day or flowers could be, going from their midst when they wished so much to keep her. But Katy had only one idea, and that was of the child growing very restless now and throwing up its arms as if in pain. It is striking five, and with each stroke the dying baby moans, while Katy strains her ear to catch another sound, the sound of horses' hoofs hurrying up the road. The clergyman has come and anon the inmates of the house gather around in silence, while he makes ready to receive the child into Christ's flock, where it so soon will really be.