They talk of him still in his old parish, of the good he did, and of his peaceful death on the day that of all the year signified birth and life. Nothing was even known of the mother and babe. Only there was a rumor that one had been seen leaving the house during the morning and passing out into the white-clad country. And at the little inn in the town there was vague wonder what had become of the woman and her baby who applied for shelter there that night before and was told that there was no place for her there, and that she had better go to the old preacher, as he took in all the tramps.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] From “The Land of the Spirit”; copyright, 1913, by Charles Scribner’s Sons. By permission of the publishers.
CHRISTMAS AT THE TRIMBLES’[4]
Ruth McEnery Stuart
Part I
Time: Daylight, the day before Christmas.
Place: Rowton’s store, Simpkinsville.
First Monologue, by Mr. Trimble:
“Who-a-a, there, ck, ck, ck! Back, now, Jinny! Hello, Rowton! Here we come, Jinny an’ me—six miles in the slush up to the hub, an’ Jinny with a unweaned colt at home. Whoa-a-a, there!
“It’s good Christmus don’t come but once’t a year—ain’t it, Jinny?