WAITING.


How did the time pass with the sick woman, waiting in the little
chamber, listening day by day and hour by hour for the steps, the
voices, which did not come? Miss Rejoice was very peaceful, very
quiet,--too quiet, thought Mandy Loomis, the good neighbor who watched
by her, fulfilling her little needs, and longing with a thirsty soul
for a good dish of gossip. If Rejoice would only "open her mind!" it
would be better for her, and such a relief to poor Mandy, unused to
silent people who bore their troubles with a smile.

"Where do you s'pose she is, Rejoice?" Mrs. Loomis would cry, twenty
times a day. "Where do you s'pose she is? Ef we only knew, 't would be
easier to bear, seems 's though. Don't you think so, Rejoice?"

But Rejoice only shook her head, and said, "She is cared for, Mandy,
we must believe. All we have to do is to be quiet, and wait for the
Lord's time."

"Dear to goodness! She can wait!" exclaimed Mrs. Loomis to Mrs. Penny,
when the latter came in one evening to see if any news had come. "She
ain't done anything but wait, you may say, ever sence time was,
Rejoice ain't. But I do find it dretful tryin' now, Mis' Penny, now I
tell ye. Settin' here with my hands in my lap, and she so quiet in
there, well, I do want to fly sometimes, seems 's though. Well, I am
glad to see you, to be sure. The' ain't a soul ben by this day. Set
down, do. You want to go in 'n' see Rejoice? Jest in a minute. I do
think I shall have a sickness if I don't have some one to open my mind