The Alchemists Secret | Page 4

give it to her
were too tired or too lazy. He guessed that was the trouble, he was
growing lazy in his old age. Well, he would do this for Sallie; it would
be one more little sacrifice added to the many which he and Martha had
offered for their wandering child, that God might keep guard over her
wherever she might be. Yes, he would do it for Sallie's sake and to
please Martha. From Heaven she was watching him and would know
that to please her and for the sake of their child he was going to brave
the storm once more and carry a little Christmas happiness to those
poor children over in the hollow. The walk over and back again would
not hurt him; he was growing old and lazy, that was all.
But first he must light the lamp. Dear, dear, he was growing forgetful
as well as lazy. He had nearly forgotten to light Sallie's lamp. What
would Martha say to that? Every night as soon as dusk had fallen,
Martha had insisted upon placing a lamp in the window of what had
once been Sallie's room. If the child came back unexpectedly, she
would see the light shining from her window and know they were
waiting and watching for her. The room itself was as she had left it
years ago, her clothes still hanging in the closet, her slippers laid ready
for the tired feet to slip into them, the fire on the hearth all prepared
against the day of her home-coming, and by night the lamp in the
window shining a welcome that could be seen afar down the road that
led from the village. He must light Sallie's lamp, then off once more
into the storm and darkness to carry a bit of Christmas cheer to the little
home in the hollow.
Nearly an hour later, a thoroughly worn-out but very happy old man sat
by the stove in the farmhouse kitchen. He was too tired even to light his
pipe; he simply sat there and tried to rest. It had been a hard fight
against the storm, but how pleased those poor little children were! Well,
he had done it for Sallie, just one more little sacrifice for Sallie who
was somewhere out there in the cold, weary world, far from the home

of her childhood, far from the ones who loved her best.
Sallie gone? Sallie far away in the storm and darkness? Why no, of
course not. Sallie was only a little child sleeping quietly in her own
little room. See, the door was ajar and a ray of light from the lamp in
Sallie's room was streaming across the kitchen floor. He must go in and
extinguish the light before it awakened the sleeping child. Why had
Martha left the lamp burning? Surely she must know it would disturb
the child. Well, as soon as he was rested he would go and put it out.
How tired, how tired he did feel! He'd worked pretty hard to-day, and
the sun had been hot, so hot. Well, never mind, the hay was all cut now,
a few more days like this and his barn would be filled with the finest
hay in the country. A few more years like this one and he would be the
richest farmer hereabouts. For himself, he did not care, and Martha had
simple tastes like his own. But there was Sallie. She was only a wee tot
now but she would be a woman some day. They must give Sallie all the
advantages they had missed; they must lay by money against the time
when Sallie would be a grown up woman and want things like other
girls of her age.
What ailed him, anyway, that a day's work in the hay field should make
him feel like this, so tired, so very tired?
He felt a little better now; he would rest a few moments more, then be
off home to supper and to Martha and Sallie. But who was that calling
to him? Why, Martha, to be sure, standing there by the five-barred gate.
She had come to meet him with their baby in her arms. That was
strange; it was not Sallie, it was their first-born, the boy with his
mother's eyes who had blessed their home for only a few short months
and then been laid to rest in the churchyard on the hill. The other little
tots were with her, three of them, clinging closely to her skirts. They
were all smiling and holding out their hands to him in invitation. But
Sallie, where was Sallie? Once more Martha called his name. At the
sound of her voice all the wonder, all the worriment, fled from Tony's