The tribune. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1874-1876, 1876-09-20

full, patient eyes. What a great place
this station is and every one so busy
and engrossedi
eff you please, 1 want to reach Far
ringdon street. Would you kindly tell
me what to do2'-she has at last accosted
porter, as he passes with hamper on
his shoulder.
"Cross to Metropolitan.
Cross to Metropolitan The words
are foreign words to her. What can
they mean2 Is there q river, then, be-
tween her and David2
Another porter, coming slowly up rs
tho crowd disperses, sees the puzzled
look upon the woman's face, and how she
shrinks apart in her neat country dress,
and holds her basket with such care
and pride.
"Where do you want to go2" he in
quires, kindly.
To Farringdon street. I am to
cross something, but could not under
stand, I'm sorry to be 80 trouble
some"
You'd far better have a cab," the
man says, in tone of involuntary kind
illness. Do you mind the expense Z"
"1 have six shillings in change" she
answers, looking gratefully into his face.
Will that do ~
Half of it."
He takes her to one of the waiting
cabs and makes q bargain with the man
In her presence then he closes the
door upon her and smiles as he drives
away.
And this is London-this line of
streets, and crowd of people, and deaf
ening sound of wheels Poor Davy
How he must long for the quiet, shady
lanes rnd the fresh breeze coming in
land from the sea!
The cab stops, and Mary Sullivan
stands with beating heart ut the door of
tall, narrow house in Farringdon street
and rings the bell family. She waits
what she thinks long. long time before
young woman appears in answer to her
modest summons.
which room I shall find my son?'
What's your sons name 2" the girl
asks. with long stare.
David Sullivan
sob, Mr.. Sullivan" she says, a little
more pleasantly. {" He's out. Would
you like to step into the passage and
rest7"
Thank you," Davids mother says,
gently, as she meets this unlocked for
blow, - would much rather 90 to
him
' don't know where he is, though.
He's nearly always out. He's at an
Office all day. Then he's forever going
out into the country somewhere north,
where he's gotta house he's been furnish,
ing. 1 don't know where else he goes.
but he's always away ut night"
He will be at-that no use you speak
Of. 1 suppose 2" questions Mary, her
voice trembling in its eegerness MS her
thoughts dwell on this home which
David has been preparing for her. "I
wish you could tell me where it it,
"But don't know,"th the girl answers,
more shortly, "and should think you'd
better stay here till he comes back
would rather 60 to him. Do you
think any one in the house could kindly
tell me where he is p
young foreigner is coming down the
stairs as Mary speaks, and she looks
shyly and wistfully at him. So the girl
asks him the question: "Does ho hap
pen to know where Mr.. Sullivan is1'
" Monsieur Sulli-Sullivan 2" the
young man questions, laughing little
as he glances intosthe face of the coun-
try bred, yet delicate looking woman,
who stands holding her basket SO close
ly to her side. "Yes, I know; why?"
81 am his mother" Mary says, her
voice bright with pride.
chad you not better wait here until
he comes2"
II would far rather go to him, if you
would help me-"
"You are quite snre 2" he asks again,
with the laughing glance.
"Quite sure, SIR
HlhaD 7 will 5iracf yo,, for ~, M
ing that way myself. You had better, at
any rate, leave your basket here"
So she gives it to the young woman,
with shy request that it may be taken
care of, then follows her guide out into
the street. 1t see ms to Mary that they
have walked for miles down noisy and
bewildering streets, when they turn and
enter wide and open doorway. With
sign to his companion to follow, the
stranger walks on along carpeted pas
sage, only pausing a moment to speak to
man who is standing there, Just as if
he might be waiting for them. Mary
follows her guide on and on, wondering
how this lighted way could lead to any
home which David has chosen for her.
Yet all the while her heart is fluttering
joyfully, because the meeting must now
be SO near. Once more the stranger stops
to speak to some one who stands at an
inner door, then he leads her through
it, on amid a crowd of seated figures.
If you sit here" he says, with q
smile, pointing down to a vacant seat
Which they have reached, "you will
soon see your son. Watch the wide en-
trance opposite you there, and you will
see him in few minutes
Mary thanks him with simple earnest
ness, then takes the seat and waits her