The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1877-04-05
MAGGIE RYAN.

But just let me stay until morning
ma'aHl. Its cold, dreary and DARK
along the road, and, indeed, I've nc
place to go but Widow Yarrow's. and
that's miles away"
30 spoke sad, worn-looking woman.
standing on the threshold of a well Ito
do farmers house, just as the last rays
of light were fading from the evening
sky.
The person she spoke to, large
woman in a white, Powered dress anG
white apron-the mistress of the house
turned away pettishly.
You came at night, Maggie, i
seems to me, and you can go at night
You don't suit. [ never saw such shift
less ways in my life. And Jane Smith
is here, and I've only one bed for the
servant, and / can't expect tidy girl
like Jane to sleep with-well, with
strangers. I've paid you for three days,
and goodness knows, you've worried
me out OF my senses since you've been
here, and / can't keep you anothe,
night; and the earlier you go, the sooner
you'll get there, wherever it is"
Well, that's true, anyway. Then,
ma'am," replied the woman, land you
are mistress in your own house; but
God knows, its not dog I'd be drivin
ont at night" Then she tied her little
pittance in the corner of pocket-hand
kerchlef and walked away out of the
gate and up the road, not looking back
once. Her heart was heavy as lead, and
she was angry at world that had been
very hard one to her.
Three years since Pat went away
she said to herself, "and never a word
from him. He's dead, no doubt; and
it's the last kind word I've heard. /
wasn't shiftless and good for nothing to
him. Maggie he'd often say, I'D
change you for nobody's wife. Och, he
was the man; and as good to me when |
was faded and worn out with the hard
Hvin' and rarin' and losin' the children
AS he was when [ was purity girl, with
cheeks like roses, and he was boy
courtin' me. Och, Pat, where did YOU
go at all You died in ditch like a
dog, maybe; for all these hard hearted
gentle folk care we all might"
She turned and shook her fist back at
the house she had just left, only bit
OF the roof visible over the risin Q
ground now.
My heart was aching for the childer
and for Pat, she said; g but you could
have no patience if peratie was burnt,
or towel not that smooth. You sent
me out with the night falling. Bad luck
to We and to all your like"
Then she plodded on again: but the
woman she had left was not as bad as
she had fancied hor. In her thrift and
tldlness she could not understand this
untidy, careless being. She knew
nothing OF the misery at her heart, or
the sorrow that made her forget the
pots and pals. She was actually half
afraid of her, and anxious to get her
out of her house. She had felt it a
great mistake to hire tramp from the
road, as 1t were, and she had paid her
and was conscious of no cruelty.
The daylight fled apace; the moon,
risen long ago, became visible-a faint
streak of new moon that set in a little
while--only the stars were left-and
Maggie, wandering on the road with her
bundle under her arm-a bundle of
rags and odds and ends tumbled to-
gether in an old flannel petticoat-be-
gan to lose her knowledge of it. Here
and there she saw lights In a window.
bat they were no promise of hospitality
to her. Ii she could get to the Widow
1arrows. that parsonage, who took the
laborers to board, would let her lodge
while she could pay; but where was the
widows cottage-to the right or to the
left? che could not tell in the dark
ness whether she had taken the proper
turning. Hard by was rushing sound,
as of water. Danger there, perhaps.
The railroad was somewhere at hand,
and tough Maggie felt that the world
was poor place, she did not feel ready
to meet death yet.
"Ill just drop down in the grass
somewhere" said the poor woman.
"And God between me and harm. fl
could find q bit of hay now, 'twould be
a comfort.
She stretched forward, peering
through the darkness, and her foot
struck some loose branches that Law
upon the ground, with cracking sound.
whats that?" said voice very
near her in a sharp whisper.
~ . az mp VI suutrrei, Silu
another voice. go on with your work,
Jim. The train will be along in fifteen
minutes. Up with that rail. Hi! Well
have them this time"
Hold your tongue, fool" said the
first voice. You're half drunk. 1
tell you 1 thought it was STEP"
And now Maggie, who had sunk fiat
upon the ground, knew all. THOSE who
whispered near her were train wreckers.
"I'll make no noise, said she. I" It's
none of my business"
But lying In the graas, the sharp
strokes of steel on steel smote her ear !;
she could not forget them. And sud
denly it came upon her that it was nei
ther more nor less than murder that she
was waiting there to see-that in lying
quiet while it was done she helped to
do it.
"God forgive mel" aaid poor Mag
gle. "I'll not do it; but what am l to
do? How will / stop therul It's my
own death; I'll bring about nothing
else -
And just then the sonnd of a steam
whistle far away caught the ear. The
train was coming.
Ready for them," said the voice she
had heard before. "Come into the
bushes"
She heard them tramp away, and she
arose to her feet and looked about her.
There was no house In sight and no
help near. Suddenly thought struck
her. She had matches in her pocket,
and her dress was a thin calico-it
would burn like finder. In a moment
more she had torn it OFF and had the
matches in her hand. As she struck a
light she heard pistol click.
They see me, she said, and held
the match against the old calico, and as
it caught, hourished it over her head.
She felt bullet whiz by her shoulder;
another struck her; but now the glare
was bright, and the train was close at
hand. She rushed toward it, waving
her burning dress. Thank God they
saw her. The train slackened its pace
it stopped. Men with lanterns in
their hands sprang from it and hurried
toward her. And the old dress, burnt
to finder, dropped to the ground, and