The Great Experience

"Even a child is known by his doings."--Prov. 20:11.

Dear little Ephraim with its great heart and democratic aspirations, its keen love for its own inhabitants and "The stranger within the gates," its rich and poor living side by side in brotherly sympathy!

This quaint little city seems to cuddle up to the great Rocky Mountains as if for protection from the outer and larger cities of Utah, where the world has crept in and has somewhat changed the spirit of fifty years ago.

"We are simple country-folks," said one of Ephraim's leading citizens, addressing a new-comer as he took her bags, "but you're welcome to our home as long as you care to stay and share it with us."

"O, thank you so much!" exclaimed the Eastern lady, as she patted the light fluffy hair of the ten-year-old girl, clinging to her mother's skirts.

"I love little girls. We'll be good friends, won't we dear?" she asked the child.

"Yes, ma'am," answered Betty Emmit, as she furtively scanned the lady from head to foot. Mentally she was saying, "By heck! a real New-Yorker in Ephraim!"

"The New-Yorker," was amply supplied with bags--so many in fact, that Mrs. Emmit had to relieve her husband of one, big and heavy.

"The New-Yorker" made an attempt to take it from her.

"Oh, no, Mrs. Catt," exclaimed the good wife; "you must be so tired. We haven't far to go. Any trunk to see to?"

"No, I travel so much that I don't bother with trunks."

So, with this easy acquiescence, Mrs. Webster Catt walked beside her heavy-laden companions.

Betty attempted to give her mother a lift, but was shaken off kindly.

"You're too young and skinny to carry loads yet," explained Mrs. Emmit, who was herself not a great deal taller, nor stouter, than Betty.

Betty flushed furiously. She always felt it an accusation to be called "young and skinny."

"Better to be young and skinny than to be old and fat, ain't it, honey?" Mr. Emmit suggested.

Then he turned to his wife.

"You're tired, aren't you?" he asked, eyeing her keenly. "Bag heavy, eh?"

But his straight, slim, little wife ignored his question and began talking to Mrs. Catt as quickly as possible.

"So you're here to preach temperance, are you?" she asked in a pleasant tone. "I'm mighty glad someone's taking it up. But to think it should be an outsider! Here's the Church preaching the 'Word of Wisdom' all these years, and telling the people not to drink and smoke, and you've come to tell them to obey the Church!"

Mr. Emmit laughed and there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"You'll be disappointing yourself, if you try to deprive Ephraim of its home brewed ale. It's the one small sin that gives us a big lot of pleasure here."

"Do you think that any sin is small?" asked the reformer sweetly, with her direct gaze compelling honest Ford Emmit to answer squarely.

"Well, no, if you put it that way, but--"

"There's no 'but' about it," interrupted his good wife; "sin is sin."

Betty's brown eyes gazed with open admiration at Mrs. Catt.

Mentally she said, "by heck," again. "She's some game fighter to tackle Ephraim, but I hope she gets beaten; for Ephraim's all right," she concluded with sudden pride.

Soon they reached the Emmit home, an old-fashioned, white framed house, surrounded with hollyhocks and low shrubbery.

"Home at last!" exclaimed the large, gaunt master of the house.

"How perfectly lovely!" exclaimed Mrs. Catt with enthusiasm. "I've always dreamed that it would be so romantic to live in a place like this!"

"Some romance," returned Ford Emmit, laughing heartily, as he deposited the bags on the porch. "We have no time for dreams here; have we, wife? Nine children, and the farm and livestock to it, keep us pretty busy. That's life here!"

At this the door opened and out ran four real children, two boys and two girls, rosy and bright as the dawn.

The two boys were both bright redheads, like their mother; the girls were fair and blue-eyed, with the exquisite coloring of the Norwegian.

"O, Betty," they all cried at once; "we found your pussy dead in the yard. Someone has drowned her."

"Yes, I drowned her, myself," declared Mrs. Emmit. "She's been ailing around the house too long. It ain't good for you, children, to be mauling sick cats," and with this practical dismissal of the fact, she lead the way into the house, her visitor, husband, and children, following.

But Betty lingered behind, unnoticed. For a moment she stood, pale and defiant, then, swift as a fawn, she ran around the house and started the search for her dead kitten.

"Pussy dead! pussy dead!" she muttered to herself in anguish, and the tears came thick and fast, as she looked for her dead pet.

At last, in some tall grass, she discovered it, lying cold and wet.

"O, my baby! My darling baby!" she moaned piteously; "to think that I was away and couldn't save you!"

But kitty did not purr in answer, as was her custom, when her mistress talked to her.