The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1871-11-03

ments of my life.
"Dorothy,doe you think-they are
both drowned2"
What else was there left to think
But his pauses had been caused by emo
ton. The next minute Alex had burst
into paroxysm of tears bordering on
Mysteries. / bolted the door.
"Alex, don't ~ whispered. "Alex,
try and be calm. Think of the mo-
ther."
cts her I'm thinking of, more than
of u.s." sobbed the boy. ooh, papa,
papal What shall we do without
papa?"
He meant without his love. l thought
Of it in different light. Even in that
sad moment it could not but occur to
me-the worldly blight as we'll as the
loss of love. Robert Whitnall was the
sole bread. winner. What could these
| five helpless children and their mother
do without him ?"
What will be done about telling the
mother? Oh, Dorothy, if we could but
awake and find it all dream !"
What was to be done, indeed Told
she must be. Will it be believed that,
in the moments bewildering confusion,
| began thinking, eff Robert were
here, he would know how TO-" Then
reflection came, and | broke off with a
faint cry.
Dear Alex, try and be calm. We
must choose our time for telling her !;
and it will not do for her to see before.
hand that anything's the matter. Here,
you shall wash your face in my basin.
Hank [! They are calling us to break.
fast"
"Say | am coming, Dorothy" said
the lad, his sobs rising again. off |
don't appear just directly, make some
excuse for me. I'd not cry if l could
help it,"
We need not have specialized upon
how she was to be told. Mrs. Whitnall
was standing to pour out the coffee, and
the children were cracking their eggs,
when Captain Sands wife rushed into
the room, her face as white as Alexan-
der's had been, her hands lifted, her
voice shrieking. The next moment
Mrs. Whitnall and the little ones knew
as much as we did.
Oh, it was a piteous scene! l have
no heart to describe it; and perhaps
Imagination will picture it better than
words could. The children cried and
sobbed together; their mother lay back
in her chair like one in a faint; Mrs.
Sand was loud. People, too, knowing
we lodged there, were passing and re-
passing the windows to look in.
How the next Few days went on |
cannot quite remember. They were
terrible. 1t was not only the grief for
Robert Whitnall, for the husband and
father; but there lay also the stunning
sense Of future desolation-the desola-
ton induced by poverty. When case
of this kind occurs, where the calamity
is of double nature, it is impossible
not to think of it, however deep may
be the heart-sorrow.
Dorothy, what will become of me-
and of them p
The whispered question came to me
from the window where she was sitting.
1t was on the third day. | did not
know how to answer her.
"The wide world around, and not
place in il for us ! We must have food
and clothes and home. Where shall
we find them?
And still could make no definite an
swer. The sobs of Gertrude broke up
the converse. So that day passed. and
another came in.
Dorothy, we must get away from
the place now Perhaps tomorrow"
Yes, of course, we must, Mrs. Whit
nall"
She spoke the words quietly enough,
and her pale face was calm. Whether
she coming out had aroused her from
her apathy, don't know; but she be-
gan laying plads, and suggesting what
to do for the best-I mean in regard
to quitting the town for our London
home.
The tea-things were on the table when
we got in, and Mrs. James came in with
a decanter Of wine, pressing us to take
a glass. 1t was very kind of her. |
know she had got it on purpose but we
did not take it. Tea would be best.
We shall be leaving you tomorrow,
believe" said Mrs. Whitnall to her.
"Thank you for your kindness. You
must let me know what am in your
debt-two weeks, is it not?"
Mrs. James burst into tears. Nay,
yOu al HulVC WCISOluC w nave DccH III
the rooms, ma'am; don't say anything
about payment"
For she knew how things were with
us. That almost nothing was left to 60
on with at present; nothing at all for
the future. She was true, kind gen.
tlewoman, though she did let lodg-
ings.
Dorothy, what shame it brings to
me ~ murmured Mrs. Whitnall, as l
sat down to make the tea. 81 fear l
quite sighted her in my heart as an in
ferior, LOOKING at her position. What
is there left for me but to get my liv-
ing by something of the kind2 Calami.
ty brings home to us a strange sense Of
our SINS"
The children went up to Mrs. Sands
when tea was over; she had sent for
them at the lonely dusk hour more than
once. Mrs. Whitnall, weary with Sob
bling, for she had had fit of crying af-
ter tea, lay on the sofa, hoped, asleep.
sat at the darkening windows weaving
plans for the future in my aching
brain.