Matilda G Thompson

Aunt Judy's Story Matilda G Thompson

Large Print Look! look! mother, there comes old Aunt Judy," said Alfred, as an old colored woman came slowly up the gravel walk that led to the handsome residence of Mr. Ford, of Indiana. The tottering step, the stooping back, and glassy eye, betokened extreme age and infirmity. Her countenance bore the marks of hardship and exposure; while the coarse material of her scanty garments, which scarcely served to defend her from the bleak December wind, showed that even now she wrestled, with poverty, for life. In one hand she carried a small pitcher, while with the other she leaned heavily on her oaken stick. "She has come for her milk," said little Cornelia, who ran out and took the pitcher from the woman's hand. "Let me help you, Auntie, you walk so slow," said she. "Come in and warm yourself, Judy," said Mrs. Ford, "it is cold and damp, and you must be tired. How have you been these two or three days?" "Purty well thank ye, but I'se had a touch of the rheumatiz, and I find I isn't so strong as I was," said Judy, as she drew near the grate in which blazed and crackled the soft coal of the West, in a manner both beautiful and comforting. Mrs. Ford busied herself in preparing a basket of provisions, and had commenced wrapping the napkin over it, when she paused and leaned towards the closet, into which she looked, but did not seem to find what she wanted, for, calling one of the boys, she whispered something to him. He ran out into the yard and down the path to the barn; presently he returned, and said, "There are none there, mother."