ALL HAPPY
And so we sot there under the maples—Josiah and me and the baby. And once in a while, a maple leaf would come a flutterin’ down like a great crimson posey, and the baby would laugh and stretch out its little dimpled hands and try to catch it, and the sunshine would throw golden rings on her little white gown and hands and arms, and she would try to lay holt of ’em and couldn’t, jest as natteral as if she was bigger. And then the baby would laugh, and Josiah would laugh, and the old maple tree as the settin’ sun shone through it seemed to be all lit up with the general enjoyment. That old maple tree acted sensible, and I knew it. What if her leaves was a flutterin’ down gradual; what if the fall of the year was a comin’ on? She didn’t mourn over it no more than I mourned as I sot there, over all the days and years, the delights and the sorrows, that had slipped away from me somehow, and floated off out of my life unbeknown to me.
She knew—that old maple did—that it was only for a time. That another summer was a comin’, when God would give back to her all she had lost, and more. Knowin’ that the very loss of what she had loved and cherished most, that even what some foolish ones called decay and death, would be changed by His divine hand into deeper growth, diviner beauty.
Oh, how chirk and happy my companion did look in his face; and oh, how sort o’ lifted up, and yet dretful serene and happyfied I felt in the inside of my mind. It was a beautiful time, very.
And never did I see my pardner wear a more contented and happy look on his face when he sot down to a extra good dinner, than he did as he says to me,—after lookin’ at the baby in perfect silence from a half to three-quarters of a minute:
“Heaven bless every little girl and boy in the land, for the sake of little Samantha Jo!”
And I felt so handsome and uncommon happy in my mind, and so wrapped up in Josiah, that I spoke right up and says:
“Yes, and all the old boys and girls too; amen!”
The End.