The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1868-02-29

| Now this fiddle of Tommys may have had
crack or SO in it. and cannot assert that Tommy
never struck q false note: but the man in the
corner was not fastdious as musical critic; the
sickly light was Pickering through the car, the
culver on the red flats was quite out of sight: the
train was shrieking away in the west-the bale
full, lonely west-which was dying fast now out
there upon the sea; and it is fact that his hat
went slowly down over his face again, and that
his face went slowly down upon his arm.
There in the lighted home out upon the fats
that had drifted by forever she sat waiting now.
1t was about time for him to be into supper; she
WINS beginning to wonder little where he was !;
she was keeping the tea hot and telling the child
rem not to touch their fathers pickles; she had
set the table and drawn the chairs his pipe lay
hlled on the shelf over the stove. The baby was
fretting-the baby always fretted towards night
-and sho was walking about with him; walking
very slowly and weakly; singing now and then.
der face IN the light was worn and white, the
dark rings very darker She was trying to hush
the boys, teasing for their supper begging them
TO wait few minutes, he would surely be here
then She would put the baby down presently,
ana stand at the window, with her hands
Annies hands were not once so thin-raised to
smut out the hght-watchiny, watching.
The children would eat their supper; the
table would stand untouched, with his chair in
his place, still she would go to the window and
stand watching, watching. o, the long night
that she must stand watching, and the days and
the years.
"IIome, sweet homc,"
played Tommy.
by and by there was no more of "Sweet
Home
"How about that cove with his head Topped
down on his arms" specialized Tommy, with a
busness-like air.
lie had only stirred once, then put his face
down again: but he was awake, awake in every
nerve and listening. to the very curve of his fin
gers. Tommy knew that, it being part of his
trade.to learn how to use his eyes
The sweet, loyal passion of the music-it would
take worse playing than Tommy's to drive the
sweet, loyal passion of Annie Laurie-grew above
the din of the train.
.. "Twas that Annie Laurie
Gave me her promise true"
She used to sing that thought the man.-this
other Annie Of his own Why, she had been his
own, and he had loved her. Yes, she used to
sing that when no went to see her on Sunday
nights before they married, in hor pink,
plump, pretty days. Annie used to be very
pretty.
"Gave me her promise true"
hammered the little fiddler.
i"Thats fact, said poor Armies husband,
Jerking the words out under his hat, "and kept
it too, she did"
All, how Annie had kept it! The whole dark
picture OF her married years--the days of work
and pain, the nights of watching the patient
voice, the quivering mouth, the tao. and tho
planning, and the trust for tomorrow, the love
that had borne all things plaining-rose
into outline to tell him how she had kept it.
Tier face the f;,rest
ThaI ere the sun sliohe on"
suggested the little fiddle
That it should be darkened forever, tho sweet
face! and that he should do it--be sitting here,
with his ticket bought, bound for Colorado.
But it was better for her to be free from him.
| He and his cursed i'll luck were drag on her
and the children, and would always be. What
was that she had said once ?-"Never mind,
Jack, can bear anything as long as have you"
| And here he was, with his ticket bought
bound for Colorado
| He wondered if it were ever too late in tho
day for fellow to make mar of himself.
| Sand she's all the world to me
| And for bonnie Annie Laurie,
| I'll lay me down and dec"
sang the fiddle triumphant
train was slackening the lights of a way. station
bright ahead. 1t was about time for his supper
and his mother, so Tommy put down his fiddle
and handed around his cap.
| The merchant threw him penny and resum.
ed his tax list. The old lady was fast asleep
with her mouth OPEN
| ''Come here growled Harmon, with his eyes
very bright Tommy shrank back, almost afraid
| of him.
| "Come here, softening l won't hurt you. I
tell you boy, you don't know what you've done
tonight.
"Done, SIR" Tommy couldn't help laughing.
| though there was a twinge of pain at his stout
little heart as he fingered the solitary penny in
the faded cap. "Done? Well, guess 1 walked
| you up, Sir, which was about what meant TO
do"
"Yes that's it." said Harmon, very distinctly,
pushing up his hat; you've walked me ap. Here
hold your cap"
| They had pulled into the station now and stop.
ped. He emptied his purse into tho little cap,
shook it clear of paper and copper alike, was out
of the car and off of tho train before Tommy
could have said Jack Robinson.
"My eyes," gasped Tommy; "that chap had a
| ticket for New York, sure Methuselah Look
a'here ! One, two, three,-Must have been crazy
that's it, crazy
"Hell never find out" mnttered Harmon,
turning away from the station lights, and strik.
ing back through the night for the red flats and
home "Hell never find out what no has done
nor, please Cod shall She"
II was late when he came in sight of the house;
it had been long tramp across the tracks, and
hard being stung by bitter wind from the east
all the way, tired with the montonous treading
of the slespers, and with crouchins ia perilous
nitohes to let the trains 20 by.
She stood watching Mt the window. as no had
known that she would stand-her hands raised
to her facc-her figure cut out against the warm
light of the room.
He stood still moment and looked at her,
hidden in the shadow of the street, thinking his
own thoughts Tho publicnn. in the old story