Annies New Home, 



115 



started from her chair. The sound was not 

 unknown in that Uttle mining town. Annie 

 had heard it once before, when she was very 

 young, and she had never forgotten it. It 

 meant death — sudden, terrible death — to 

 strong, hearty men; it meant crushed Uves, 

 broken hearts and hopeless futures to poor 

 women, wives and mothers of miners. Al- 

 ready crowds were running through the 

 streets toward the mines, and the cry "The 

 mine has caved !" filled the air. 



Annie limped to the door, and pulling it 

 open tottered out. Mrs. Lynch, who had 

 been paying a farewell visit to a neighbor, 

 came running toward her. 



"Oh! Mrs. Lynch," gasped Annie, "which 

 is it ? Is it Jim's shaft ?" It seemed as if 

 her very life hung on Mrs. Lynch's answer. 



"Annie! Oh, poor child, poor child;" 

 and Mrs. Lynch, whose husband had been 

 killed in just such a way, burst into tears. 



That was enough, Annie was answered. 

 She gasped for breath, and caught at the 

 door post for support. Then suddenly she 

 started forward, " Oh ! it may not be true. 

 I must go, I must find out for myself. Jim ! 

 Jim !" Then her strength seemed to fail, 

 and she sank down at Mrs. Lynch's feet sob- 

 bing, "I cannot, I cannot." Mrs. Lynch 

 lifted her up and carried her back into the 

 room, and then there came a time of hor- 

 rible waiting. 



The reports from the mine were con- 

 flicting. One man hurrying by would 

 say that hundreds were killed ; the next 

 one said there was hope of saving all ; 

 the rescuers were working as hard as 

 men could work to reach the shaft. Then 

 came word that it would be days before 

 the men could be found, and then almost 

 at once came news that they had been 

 reached and that some were alive. The 

 slow night wore away and daylight broke — 

 the day that the new life was to have begun 

 for Annie and Jim. As she saw the first 

 beam of sunlight come in at the window, 

 Annie turned her head aside and two bitter 



tears rolled down her cheeks. But she 

 could not cry — the weight on her heart that 

 seemed crushing out her very life, was too 

 great for tears. 



Presently Mrs. Lynch rose and stole out, 

 and Annie was left alone. She lay there in 

 her chair and watched the shadows of the 

 window bars slowly creep along the wall. 

 She felt strangely weak and numb. She 

 could not understand why she did not suf- 

 fer more. How could she sit there, quiet 

 and tearless, when Jim might be lying dead, 

 crushed under some terrible beam. Or 

 perhaps not dead, but prisoned, helpless, 

 only to suffer lingering tortures worse than 

 death. As this thought came to her, she 

 started forward with a groan, and her eyes 

 fell on the robin pining in his cage, his head 

 bent, and his eyes dull, looking so unhappy. 



"I will let him out," thought Annie, and 

 she rose slowly and painfully, and limped 

 across the room to where the cage stood on a 

 chest of drawers, and carried it to her chair. 



She felt so strangely weak that she could 

 hardly open the window, but at last she 

 managed to, and then she opened the door 

 of the cage and waited. At first the robin 

 did not see, but suddenly he understood 

 that freedom lay there before him; he 

 hopped out, stood for a moment on the win- 

 dow ledge, then fluttered unsteadily down 

 toward the ground and was lost to sight. 



Annie, lying in her chair, followed him 

 with her eyes until he had vanished, then 

 a still, sweet smile crept on to her lips, the 

 thin hand dropped from the cage door, her 

 eyes opened wider and wider 



Up the street, nearer and nearer, and 

 then into the house, came the slow tramp 

 of men carrying a*heavy burden ; in many 

 a home there were tears and anguish, mourn- 

 ing for those who had gone before ; but for 

 Annie and Jim, safe in that new home where 

 suffering and sorrow are unknown, there 

 would be never any more parting, nor any 

 more tears. N. B. G. 



