Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1878-02-24

Hoods. l can't remember all the
names"
He said nothing. and little Miss Deli
cacy feared she had hurt his feelings.
Do you like sugar-cakes?" she said
soothingly.
He nodded his head.
"The trouble is she drew nearer
and lowered her voice confdentially-
there are SO many boys about, and they
are dreadful fellows for sugar cakes.
They hardly eper leave any till next day.
But I'll see about it."
She disappeared behind the honey
suekle that hung over the porch, but she
did not come back. The sound of tenn
pestuous sobbing came from within, and
it was plain she had been disappointed
of the sugar cakes or, as was more likely
forbidden social chat withs u tramp.
The man took no heed Of her absence.
He lifted his eyes and looked across the
river to Hopefeld, the little town so white
and still. But to him it seemed to turn
with blood and ring with sound. His
teeth clenched together; his eyes glow
ing in his set face like eyes in discolorcd
marble. Close by the River bank was his
home, log house weather boarded, that
he had built himself. He could see the
z:gzag line of the fence and the holly
hooks growing 10y the window. He had
planted them there two years ago, when
he married little Betty Hill and brought
her home. What these years had been
to him he and God knew. He was poor,
but Betty made him love his daily work.
He was ignorant, but Betty had been his
teacher. He was rough, but Betty was
fine. That for which men have
Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes,
had come to him pressed down and run
ming over. And now
''Here is the buttcrmilk," said the
child's voice, "and the sugar-cakes too;
but had to cry for Them
He started to his feet and taking the
bowl, drank the milk thirstily, faint
color coming under his brown skin. But
he never took his eyes from the Hopefield
shore: and as he drained the last drop he
saw three men walking rapidly down to-
ward the river. His heart gave wild
leap; the bowl dropped from his hands.
"They're on my track he said, horse
ly.
No use now to hurry across the city to
hide in the slums. 1t was too late for
that plan. In his pressing need sudden
thought came to him of an old black
woman, who lived near. Shehad belong
ed to minister's family in Hopetield and
he had known her all her life; she had
made pet Of him and would befriend
him now.
He walked quickly out of the yard to-
ward the howell that Aunt Nelly called
home. 1t was chance whether he ever
reached it, for he stopped at the steepest
hight Of the bluff, and 1or one mad mo.
ment thought how easy it would be to
crush out fear, rcmorse, agony, lire, in one
short sharp point of tine. But he drew
back and walked on, with long, quick
steps.
Aunt Mely's house was poised on the
side of the bluff like rocking stone.
Back Of it was a struggling garden pro-
tected from the goats by a queer sort of
fence made of all the refuse stuff Aunt
Nelly could find-broad planks and mar
row planks, old fence-rails, sticks ofwood
and brush-heaps OF the house itself you
could not say that one part was worse
than another. 1t seemed to hang togeth-
cr by attenuated threads. Samson in his
days Of bibs and long gowns could have
brought it about his ears with a vigorous
infantine kick. The chimney was re-
narkable. 1t had been daubed with mud
and stuck with clay, and on the outside
Aunt Nelly had nailed shining sheet .
tia
The old woman was busting about in
doors when a shadow came between her
and the sun. She looked up and saw a
mans form in the doorway: 'sLor' bless
my soul, Phil Vickers! is dat you!
What's the matter wild you?'
'I'm in great trouble, Aunt Nelly
want you to help me-hide me-
Hide you? Why, what hev you been
a-doin?"
He pushed bis way before her into the
room.
She followed him and shut the door.
"What have you done, bos?' she re-
peated.
"1've killed Tom Jack, if you must
know"
"Killed Tom Jack! Phil Vickers, YOU
God-forsaken creetur! What did YOU do
dat for?'
His eyes sparkled, he forgot his terror;
his voice rose to shrill key and shook
in speaking: "Aunt Nelly, tell me this: :
Have been a good husband to Betty
Hill?"
''Yes, YOU have, Phil; come what may,
Ill always bar witness to dat
''I've loved her, Aunt Nelly, and you
know it. She lay on my heart day an
night. thought she was true wife to
me-"
$50 she was, Phil so she was. Many
an many's de time she's said ter me, NV
Phirs de sweetest, kindest boy dat ever
lived.'"
He burst into a howl of anguish:
/" Now you hear what that counts up ter.
I got home Monday night from a
days huntin'; I had deer on my should
er. 1t was the day befo' Moody Gras,
you know; we was comm across next
day, to see the sights, had been
whistlin' loud, but I stopped when I got
in reach O the house, and slipped to the
winder to see what little Betty was dom.
An thar, sho' as thar's liyin God,
standin, by my wife, his arm round her
was, was a man. Things swum beto'
my eyes for u minnit, then the pine knots
blaZed up an I saw Tom Jacks face. I