The St. Cloud journal., 1873-06-12
ly that Of Kenyon % /. much Younger


10 the old mans face to the younger
one, which came at times in an uneasy
dropping Of the eye or pose of the head.
1t was not there now. Miss Demar,
when she missed it, blushed and trem.
bled as though her lover had kissed
her, and was unbelieviDg and happy.
When she turned to Charley and
the old man she found them fully
launched on the ghost story.
"You see, Miss Demar," said Seth,
''it's an old neighborhood on the bank
here, aud them sort of stories hang
around old houses like spiders webs
agin the wall. Yon's the room," point
ing to chamber on whose windows
the rising moon began to glitter.
'There's no 6gger seen there, howso-
ever, nor sound heard" So intent was
he on his story that he spat deliberate.
ly on each of his palms as if he were
!moisseuipg bis thread, and rubbed
them, while slowly eyeing his hearers.
'What is there, then 2"
"a shaddel, SIR" solemuly. "To
them as is left alone in that room there
comes shadder on the WALL Noth;no
more."
''The murdered man, I suppose"
said Mary, cheerfully.
Seth did not relish her cheerfolness.
"Ive no knowledge of ny Own what
it is, ma'am. But I've heard say that
every man has ghost that tollers him
the shadder Of them that be has
"ronsed. 1t comes into sight to him
on that wall.''
"By Georgev' laughed Knapp.
"l'l put Kenyon there to sleep when
he comes, Mary. He shall have fair
tug With bis ghosts"
"Kenyon p said Seth, and then was
quickly silent. Miss Demar watched
him.
"You have no more to tell Us of the
ghost, then 2" she said, to try him.
He turned couuteuance to her
which might have been cut out of
wood, it was so vacant.
"Miss Demar spoke to you, Seth"
Il beg your pardon, ma'am. My
wits was weo].gatherin'. Regardin'
the ghost? No, know nothin' more.
l believe III be goin' now," taking up
his basket. But he fingered, lingering
the gate.latch.
"I'n send you the mornings paper
over, Seth.''
"Much obliged, sir. You said," in a
forced deliberate tone, "that a gentle
man was to sleep in that ioom-Mr.
Kenyon. Is he with you now? You'll
excuse me for askin'," he added hasti-
ly, "but II had some acquaintance
with him fifteen years ago."
"To be sure you bad ! Why, you've
no idea how kindly Mr. Kenyon spoke
of you to me, setb-charged me to have
an oversight over you, and SO on. You
aEere able to oblige him once in
some way, think he mentioned ?'
"Did be put it in that way 2" with
queer aickering smile. "No, it was no
obligation"
"Well, Mr. Kenyon is warm heart
ed man, and very likely to exaggerate
any little service. You couldn't have q
more generous friend in your old age.
And you're we'll on to seventy, now,
Seth"
TIE old man Strengthened bis back,
aud put his hand mechanically to his
hips. "l'm quite able to work for the
little I eat,'' he said quietly. "1'll not
be likely to need money from Mr..
Kenyon. I'D be sorryif you gave him
that Impression. But when he comes,
if you'll mention to him. He STOP
ped for full nDnute. eff you'll men,
tion to him that Seth Barnes is ivin'
yet, in the house where he used to
know him, III be obleeged to you.
You'll leave it to his own free will to
come or motif you please, sir p
''certainly, Seth, certainly. But
Kenyon's the last man in the world to
be uncivl to an old friend because he
has not prospered like himself. You
mistake him, Barnes"
Seth nodded gravely and, buckets in
hand, limped away.
SWELL, really" said Knapp, "I
thought Kenyon paid the old fellow an
annuity. There must have been mis-
take about it !; l did not tell him that
John was coming tonight. I had a
telegram from him he'll be here in an
hour. [ thought I'd surprise you,"-
feeling with certain pleasure that
Miss Demar trembled aud that her
hand was cold. Her common sense
was not invincible, after all.
."We'Il sit here and wait FOR him."
He drew her to a bench, and remained
silent. But Miss Demar was restless
and impatient. She must keep off the
one fact that filed the future for her.
Tomorrow would prove whether
Kenyon was a true man or the bascst
of frauds. She had but him in tho
world !; she was ao orphan, without
kinsfolk.
Knapp sat smoking, nursing one foot
on his knee, and glancing, she noticed,
now and then, up at the two windows
on which the moon cast a mysterious