The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1867-10-05
And she's a. the world. to me,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd Law me down and daa"

Idlay me down and dee"
sang the little fiddle, triumphant.
Harmon shook himself, and stood up. The
tram was slackening; the lights of way sta
ton bright ahead. 1t was about time for sup
per and his mother so Tommy put down his
fiddle aid handed around his faded cap
The merchant threw him penny, and re-
turned to his tax list. The old lady was fast
aseep with her mouth open.
Come here" growled Harmon, with his
eyes very bright. Tommy shark back al
most afraid of him.
"Come here" softening; Il won't hurt YOU
L tell you, boy, you do not know what YOU
have done tonight.
Done, STRIP, Tommy couldn't help laugh
ING, though there was twinge of pain at his
stout little heart, as he fingered the solitary
penny in the faded cap, "Done? Well,
guess I've walked you up, sir, which was about
what meant to Co."
Yes, that is it, said Harmon, very distinct
y, pushing up his hat; you've walked me up.
Here, hold your cap"
1hey had pulled into the station now, and
stopped. He emptied his purse into the lit
Tie cap, shook it clean ol paper and copper
alike, was out OF the car and off the train be-
lore Tommy could have said Jack Robi;-
son.
MY eyes?" easped Tommy shat cap had
ticket for New York, sure! Methuselah |!
Look here! One, two, three-inust have
been crazy; that's it, crazy"
Hell never find out" muttered Harmon,
turning away from the station lights and
| striking back through the night for the red
flats and home. Hell never find out what
he has done, nor, please God, shall she."
IL was late when he came in sight of the
mouse; 1t had been long tramp across the
tracks, and hard; being stung by the bitter
| WIND rom the east all the way and with
the monotonous tIeadng of the sieepers, and
| with crouehlng in PERIL us inches to let the
| trains to go by.
| She stood watching at the windou DC ha
had known that she would stand-her hand
raised TO her iace-her figure cut out against
the warm light of the loom.
lie stood still moment, and looked at her
hidden I'D the shadow of the street, thinking
his own thoughts. The publican, in the old
story, hardly entered the beautiful temple
with more humble step than he his home
that night.
| She sprang to meet him, paler with her
watching and fear, and he felt her arms
about his neck.
| Worried, fannie, were you? haven't been
drlnklng don't be frightened-po. not the
theatre, either, this time. Some business that
delayed me. I'm sorry you were worried. |
am, Anne. I've had long walk 1t is
| pleasant here. | believe I'm tired. Annie.n
lie ialteled and turned away his face
dear me-" said Annie, "why, Won moor
| fellow, you are all tired out. Sit STRAIGHT mn
here by the fire, and l will bring the tea. Pve
tried so hard not TO let it boil away. Won
don't know, Jack; and was SO afraid some
thing had happened to you.''
her face, her voice, her touch, seemed more
than be could bear for a minute, perhaps. He
gulped down his tea, choking.
Annie, look herep lie put down his cup.
trying TO smile, and make jest of his words.
Suppose fellow bad il in him 10 be a ras-
cal and nobody ever knew it, eh ?"
II should rather not know ii. if I werf, his
WIFE," said Annie, simply
Jack coushed, took up his teacup. sat it
down hard, strobe once or twice across fine
room, kissed the baby in the crib. kissed his
vile, and sat down again, winking at the fire.
Il wonder it He had anything to do with
sending him" he said presently, under his
breath.
Sending whom?' asked the puzzled An
ME-.
business, dear; just business. l was
just thinking al boy who did little lob for
me tonight; that's ALP
And that is all that she knows TO tli, day
ABOUT the man sitting in the corner with his
hat over his eyes, bound for Colorado.