The English Orphans | Page 9

of idle curiosity, and after seeing all that was
to be seen, started for home, telling the first woman who put her head
out the chamber window for particulars, that "'twas a dreadful thing,
and such a pity, too, that Ella should have to go to the poor-house, with
her pretty face and handsome curls."
But there were others who went there for the sake of comforting the
orphans and attending to the dead, and by noon the bodies were
decently arranged for burial. Mrs. Johnson's Irish girl Margaret was
cleaning the room, and in the bedroom adjoining, Mrs. Johnson herself,
with two or three other ladies, were busily at work upon some plain,
neat shrouds, and as they worked they talked of the orphan children
who were now left friendless.
"There will be no trouble," said one, "in finding a place for Ella, she is
so bright and handsome, but as for Mary, I am afraid she'll have to go
to the poor-house."
"Were I in a condition to take either," replied Mrs. Johnson, "I should
prefer Mary to her sister, for in my estimation she is much the best girl;
but there is the baby, who must go wherever Mary does, unless she can
be persuaded to leave her."

Before any one could reply to this remark, Mary, who had overheard
every word, came forward, and laying her face on Mrs. Johnson's lap,
sobbed out, "Let me go with Alice, I told mother I would."
Billy Bender, who all this while had been standing by the door, now
gave a peculiar whistle, which with him was ominous of some new idea,
and turning on his heel started for home, never once thinking, until he
reached it, that his mother more than six hours before had sent him in
great haste for the physician. On entering the house, he found her, as
we expected, rolled up in bed, apparently in the last stage of scarlet
fever; but before she could reproach him, he said "Mother, have you
heard the news?"
Mrs. Bender had a particular love for news, and now for getting "how
near to death's door" she had been, she eagerly demanded, "What news?
What has happened?"
When Billy told her of the sudden death of Mrs. Howard and Frank, an
expression of "What? That all?" passed over her face, and she said,
"Dear me, and so the poor critter's gone? Hand me my snuff, Billy.
Both died last night, did they? Hain't you nothin' else to tell?"
"Yes, Mary Judson and Ella Campbell, too, are dead."
Mrs. Bender, who like many others, courted the favor of the wealthy,
and tried to fancy herself on intimate terms with them, no sooner heard
of Mrs. Campbell's affliction, than her own dangerous symptoms were
forgotten, and springing up she exclaimed, "Ella Campbell dead!
What'll her mother do? I must go to her right away. Hand me my
double gown there in the closet, and give me my lace cap in the lower
draw, and mind you have the tea-kettle biled agin I get back."
"But, mother," said Billy, as he prepared to obey her, "Mrs. Campbell
is rich, and there are enough who will pity her. If you go any where,
suppose you stop at Mrs. Howard's, and comfort poor Mary, who cries
all the time because she and Alice have got to go to the poor-house."
"Of course they'll go there, and they orto be thankful they've got so

good a place--Get away.--That ain't my double gown;--that's a cloak.
Don't you know a cloak from a double gown?"
"Yes, yes," said Billy, whose mind was not upon his mother's
toilet--"but," he continued, "I want to ask you, can't we,--couldn't you
take them for a few days, and perhaps something may turn up."
"William Bender," said the highly astonished lady what can you mean?
A poor sick woman like me, with one foot in the grave, take the charge
of three pauper children! I shan't do it, and you needn't think of it."
"But, mother," persisted Billy, who could generally coax her to do as he
liked, "it's only for a few days, and they'll not be much trouble or
expense, for I'll work enough harder to make it up."
"I have said no once, William Bender, and when I say no, I mean no,"
was the answer.
Billy knew she would be less decided the next time the subject was
broached, so for the present, he dropped it, and taking his cap he
returned to Mrs. Howard's, while his mother started for Mrs.
Campbell's.
Next morning between the hours of nine and ten, the tolling bell sent
forth its sad summons, and ere long a few of the villagers were moving
towards the brown cottage, where in the same plain coffin