The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1867-10-20

4 -
fassing because it didn't come home.
Maybe she'll see you. I'll try, any
how. Come here and wait.
Louise followed him through the
arched hall, and past the glittering
parlors, into kind of ante-room,
adjoining thel supper apartment.
Moticning her to seat, he went in
search of his mistress. But it was q
full half hour before Mrs. Rawdon
could disengage herself from her
guests; and poor little Louise, tired
out with waiting, and benumbed with
cold, was just on the point of burst
ing into tears, when the lady stepped
into the room.
'This is q pretty business, now,
isn't it?" she began, as she received
and unfolded the bundle that Louise
proffered her. 'I thought you pro-
missed to bring this yesterdy?"
eyes, ma'am; but little Willie was
so sick that mother couldn't sew"
so, yes! that's always the way
you've some excuse ready; but 1
shan't trust you again, you may de-
pend on it. Here Violet's been crying
for an hour, and refused to come
down because she was so disappoint-
ed about her dress John, ring the
bell for Jane to take it up to her. I
must go back to the parlor now."
She was sweeping out again, her
satin robes rustling after her; but
Louise sprang mp with O piteous CRY.
80, a'am! little brother's so i'll,
and must have his medicine; please
let me have the money!"
'I can't to-night-I'm entirely out
CT change. You can cali day alter
tomorrow.
But Louise was MOTTO be repulsed.
She caught the lady's hand in both
of her little, frozen palms. One Of
the rings that adorned Mrs. Rawdon's
soft fingers would have procured all
the comforts her mother and little
Willie 80 sorely needed. Some such
thought flashed through the child's
mind as she made her appeal.
60, MADAME" she said, her blue
eyes full of imploring entreaty, "you
are rich and happy, and have ali you
want; but my poor mother has no.
thing; and my little brother will die
without medicine! Do let me have
the money!
Mrs. Rawdon shook her off i'm
patiently.
"I tell you I've no change. You
must call again. John, show her to
the door!'
The footman obeyed, and Louise
soon found herself upon the marble
steps, while the lofty door closed in
her very face with heartless slam.
The wind howled more dismally than
ever, and the keen, stinging sleet fell
like shower of shot. Louise de-
scended the steps, and crossed over
to the opposite sidewalk with dull,
aching pain at her heart, that almost
took away her breath. How could
she go back to her desolate home,
and tell her poor mother that she
had failed to collect her hard earned
wages; tell her that they were not
able to buy even SO much as soil
tary loaf? Was it right that others
should have SO much, while they
lacked daily bread? Just then, some
thing beneath her foot, soft and slip
perry, almost threw her to the pave
ment. Looking down, she saw a
pocket-book. She caught it up with
suppressed cry, and, thrusting it
into her bosom, darted off at the
speed of an antelope. At last, out of
breath, and half beside herself with
excitement, she paused beneath a
lamp-post, and after glancing STEALTH
ly around her, drew the treasure
from her bosom. It was large, thick,
and heavy. Her fingers futtered
nervously as she unclasped it; and
when she caught sight of the green
notes. it contained, she uttered cry
of delight, and darted off again like
something insane. Mother and Willie
should have all they needed now.
just beyond the bakers shop, to-
ward which she bent her steps, q
soldier met her.
''Little GIRL" he said, arresting her
flying steps, "you didn't find pocket
book as you came along, did you?"
Louise paused single, instant, her
heart huttering like q frightened
bird; then, as thought of her mo-
ther and Willie flashed through her
mind, she answered.:
"No, STRIP
"Well, it is gone, I suppose, and
the soldier passed on; while Louise
hurried away in the opposite direc-
tion.