Watertown Republican

SUNNYSIDE COTTAGE.
By Willametta A. Preston.

"It's a burning shame!"
"What do you mean, Miss Benson? The supper or the picnic we are planning for next week? Those are the only subjects we have discussed for the last ten minutes," laughed Estelle Hilton.
"I must have been thinking aloud as I have a bad habit of doing," replied Dorothy Benson laughing at her pre-occupation.
"A church social is not a good place to indulge in soliloquies unless you are willing to share your thoughts with us," remarked Horace Manning.
"What has Briarly done or failed to do that calls forth such condemnation?"
"I may as well explain. I was over to the poor farm with Aunt Harriet this afternoon and found there, whom do you think? Six of the dearest old ladies, living there by themselves in that out of the way place. I coveted every one of them, they were so patient and sweet. Why don't they go to the Old Ladies' Home, if they have no relatives to care for them?"
"For the very reason that we haven't one," replied Ned Rosscomb.
"Then there should be one, the first thing we do," replied Dorothy. "How would you like your grandmother out there?"
"When Dorothy gets started there is no stopping her," laughed her cousin, Ethel Rawlston. "Now, Dot, what could we do about it if we tried? I just wish you could see her at home! She is president of more clubs and on more committees than you could shake a stick at. I knew she'd find something for us to do."
"Well, fire away, Miss Dorothy. We'll spare you any more preliminaries by agreeing with you and promising to second your wishes, whatever they may be," said Clarence Stirling.
"Thank you, I will hold you to that promise. Now can either of you tell me how much it costs to support these old ladies in such luxury as they are now enjoying?"
"I can," said Bettie Adham. "My father is overseer. He don't live there, of course, but he has charge of the money matters. He says it costs the town a dollar and a half a week apiece and he has to pay the family who live there. Of course part of it comes back from the farm."
"And if the old ladies were not there, he would not need to have a family on the place?"
"No, he could rent the place on shares."
"So far, so good. Now, cousin mine, didn't you say that you young people were just pining for something to do?"
"I meant play, not work," laughed Ethel, looking around the group of young people who had gathered in a corner of the large dining room after the church supper. She had seen Dorothy so often in her city home where she was a recognized leader that she was sure she could not be long in Briarly without finding work of her favorite kind to do. There was no doubt but all would willingly follow her lead.
"We are not pining now with you to wake us up."
"Thanks, Mr. Manning. What I was about to propose was that the authorities allow us the spending of the money they annually devote to the maintenance of the poor farm and that we (I say we, for I trust you will allow me some share in the good work, as I am to be here several weeks), that we rent that little cottage that stands vacant on the brow of the hill, furnish it, and bring those old ladies out here to the village where they can see people passing and get out to church and feel as if they were in the world once more. They are far from being helpless. Each could do her share toward keeping the little house in order."
"That's a bright idea. I wonder nobody has thought of it before," exclaimed Estelle Hilton. "Let's go right about it. Bettie, isn't your father here to-night?"
"Yes, and Squire Girtle, too; he's first selectman," added Bettie.
"You go ask them, Clare, if they'll let us."
Clarence explained the matter to the two men. They made a few objections, but were easily persuaded to come over and meet Miss Benson. The fact that she came from Boston gave her added importance in the eyes of these farmers who had never been to the city.
"So you think you could pay rent and take care of those old women in better shape than the town does and for the same money?" asked Squire Girtle.
"No, I did not say that, Squire Girtle," replied Dorothy. "I only wanted to know if the town would allow us what it now pays. We will hold ourselves responsible for the rest."
"Wall, now, that's fair," remarked Mr. Adham. "I move we let them do it, Squire. The old women aint any too happy, I'll be bound. They always have some grievance. I reckon they'd be more contented where they could see the passing and have a share of the gossip that's going."
"Well, we'll pay the rent and allow you ten dollars a week, Miss Benson. Will that do?"
"Yes, it will do admirably, thank you."
Dorothy proceeded at once to organize her forces. They must go to work systematically.
The very next day the house was rented and they took possession, the girls with brooms and cleaning cloths, the boys with whitewash and paint. They put on new paper, they hung fresh muslin curtains at the windows, they put fresh matting or carpets on the floors. There was no need to buy furniture for there were attics full of discarded treasures, and Dorothy knew the old ladies would rather have the old fashioned furniture than any new that could be bought. One lady sent in a gold band tea set, another a dinner set in blue and white. They had gifts of table linen and bedding until they were over-supplied.
"They are not the town's poor they are guests of the town," Dorothy insisted. "They have done more for Briarly in the past than Briarly can ever do for them in return."
While the girls were putting the finishing touches to the house the boys tidied up the yard and set out beds of plants.
When all was ready Dorothy sent each of the old ladies a daintily written invitation to a tea-drinking at Sunnyside Cottage.
What a commotion it caused at the poor farm. They had not been invited anywhere since they had come to this isolated place long months before.
How they talked and laughed about it and almost cried! How they tried to fix each other up so they should not look too shabby!
"Sunnyside Cottage - I don't remember any such place," said Grandma Allen, wrinkling her forehead as she tried to think where it might be.
"Most likely somebody has named their place that, lots of folks are naming their places, these days," replied Mrs. Milliken the latest comer to the poor farm and so the most conversant with the ways of the world. "For my part I don't care where it is as long as we're invited."
They were hardly ready when Clarence Stirling came with his big three-seated wagon to take them to the village. The girls had cautioned him over and over not to say anything of the surprise in store for them. So he skillfully parried all their questions, and kept them interested in the scenery and bits of news connected with the houses they passed.
The girls were at the gate to meet them.
"Land sakes, I didn't know anybody lived here," exclaimed Mrs. Milliken. "Who did you say invited us, young man?" but Clarence had driven on out of hearing.
"This is Sunnyside Cottage. Will you come in?" asked Estelle.
They were in no hurry, however. They must stop and admire the flowers and the sunshine coming through the trees.
"It's the very house where Jason brought me as a bride, over 50 years ago!" exclaimed Mrs. Henderson. "I never expected to enter it again."
"Oh, how pretty!" exclaimed Mrs. Marshall as they came into the sitting room where were half a dozen easy chairs and a pretty sewing table. There were books and work baskets, a canary in a cage, an ivy climbing up the wall, a shelf of plants, a music box. This last was Dorothy's gift.
Already people were passing and repassing. It was time supper was served.
"Mrs. Henderson, as this used to be your home, suppose you play hostess," said Ethel, leading her to the head of the table.
"Mrs. Chalmers, will you serve?"
"My don't it seem good to get tea that is tea and not spoiled with molasses," exclaimed Grandma Allen.
"And the bread is light and sweet," commented Mrs. Atkins. "I told Mrs. Hunt I could make better bread than she gave us, but she never would let me try."
"I suppose we ought to be going now, before it gets too dark," said Grandma Allen, after they had finished their feast. "Who did you say got up this tea for us? I shall think about it for weeks."
"You are not going back at all," explained Dorothy, to whom the girls had given the pleasant task of divulging their carefully guarded secret. "This is Sunnyside Cottage. It is your home. You are never going back to the poor farm again."
"Thank the Lord!" exclaimed Mrs. Milliken.
"Going to live in the dear old home!" said Mrs. Henderson with tears in her eyes.
"Come upstairs and see your rooms now," said Estelle and led the way upstairs. There were six small chambers each daintily furnished.
While they were upstairs the rest of the girls whisked the remnants of the feast out of the way, for even then people were coming, each with some gift of fruit or package of groceries or some ornament for the house.
When the old ladies came down stairs again, they found the house full of men, women and children, each with a cordial greeting.
"We've come to give Sunnyside Cottage a housewarming," explained Squire Girtle. "We're glad to have you back again, all of you. Now, I aint no hand to make a speech, only want to say that you aint living in any rented house. Sunnyside cottage was deeded to you this afternoon. It's your own, to have and keep and pass on to any other old ladies who need a home."
"I can't believe it. It's like a dream," said Mrs. Chalmers. "Why, we could almost take care of ourselves here."
What an evening that was. How good it seemed to be again a part of the world and not pushed aside and forgotten. How they slept in their own rooms and how pleasant it was to have a room to themselves. How pleasant it was to get up next morning and get breakfast. How good the eggs and coffee, the fresh rolls and doughnuts were.
A little later the girls came running in to see how they were getting on. One brought a glass of jelly, another a chicken, another some fresh vegetables.
"We've been organizing," said Mrs. Chalmers with a half laugh that was almost a sob. "As Mrs. Henderson used to live here, we'll call her the head of the house. She'll make a capital hostess. Mrs. Milliken is housekeeper, Mrs. Atkins is cook, I am chambermaid, Mrs. Marshall wants to be laundress, and Grandma Allen will do the mending and look after the flowers."
"Then it is to Mrs. Milliken as housekeeper that I'll give this," said Bettie, handing her a $10 bill. "You are to have that much every week."
"Can we spend all that in a week?" exclaimed Mrs. Milliken. "You don't mean they spent all that on us over there."
"The town thought they did."
"Why, we can live on the fat of the land and have a friend to tea now and then."
"God will bless you," exclaimed Mrs. Marshall. "You have made six forlorn lives bright again."
"It's only the eventide of the six lives," added Grandma Allen. "It may seem little to you. You cannot comprehend what it is to us." - Chicago Advance.