"Poor little lamb, she shall have her candy!" cried Mrs. Rose. Fidelia
had never seen such a handful of candy as Mrs. Rose brought out from the
store. There was a twisted red-and-white stick of peppermint, pink
checkerberry, clear barley--a stick of every kind in the glass jars in
Mr. Rose's store window. And Mrs. Rose would not take Fidelia's one
penny at all; she bade her keep it until she came to the store again.
Aunt Maria was almost up to the store when they left it, and it was
decided that she should remain and make a call upon Mrs. Rose while Mr.
Lennox carried the others home, then he would return for her. Aunt Maria
folded her green umbrella and sank down on the door-step, and Mrs. Rose
brought her a palm-leaf fan and a glass of ginger water. "I 'ain't
walked a mile before for ten year," gasped Aunt Maria; "but I'm so
thankful that child's safe that I can't think of anything else." There
were tears in her eyes as she watched the wagon-load disappearing under
the green branches of the elm-trees. And Fidelia, in her mother's lap,
rode along and sucked a stick of barley candy in silent bliss. Griefs in
childhood soon turn to memories; straightway, as she sucked her barley
candy, Fidelia's long and painful vigil at the store door became a thing
of the past.
ANN MARY HER TWO THANKSGIVINGS
"Grandma."
"What is it, child?"
"You goin' to put that cup-cake into the pan to bake it now, grandma?"
"Yes; I guess so.
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