The Lamoille news. (Hyde Park, Vt.) 1877-1881, 1878-02-13
"And so won your love 2"


"My Y respect and admiration, uncle.
/ cannot yet realize that man so noble
and so good can really desire my COM
panionship and help in his life. But
since he does. I am glad and proud to
have won his confidence.
"Hem-yes Enthusiastic, but heart
whole I" was Mr.. Wilkinson's mental
comment. "Suppose you and I go for
a walk ?" he added aloud.
"a walkp" Milie said in a tone of
surprise.
"Yes. have friend or two l should
like to have you see. When we come
back I will tell you why 1 dislike Cyril
Ormsby, if, t" he added, mentally, "you
have not already found ont"
1t was not exactly such walk as one
would have mapped ont for a gentle
mans invitation to a young, beautiful
girl; but Millie followed its course,
leaning upon her guardians arm, won-
dering little, but never hesitating, past
the respectable portion of the city, to
quarter known as the Factory Rows
place where Mr.. Wilkinson had never
before allowed his ward to go. For there
were apt to be fevers and contagious
diseases lurking there. 1t lay low, and
was unhealthy, and the houses were of
the meanest description.
"For a noble philanthropist, partly
owning these factories and this quarter,
Mr.. Ormsby seems neglectful, said Mr..
Wilkinson, dryly. 81 have an interest
in the factories, as you are aware, but
do not own one of these wretched
houses. They are all Cyril Ormsby's"
"But," Millie said eagerly, "these
people will not let him benefit them.
They use his charity for drink; they
abuse any privilege he gives them, till
he is discouraged in his efforts to do
them any good"
"Oh, step in here !"
1t was poor place, scantily furnished
and cheerless. Upon cet-bed a woman
lay, in the last stages of consumption.
She looked up eagerly to Mr.. Wilkin-
son.
81 hope you are BETTER" he said,
kindly.
"No, shall never be better. If l
may only die in peace, it is all I ask.
Mr.. Ormsby will not disturb you
now? ?"
"Jennie has gone to him. Yesterday
he sent word that if the rent was not
ready to-day at twelve. out we must go.
I've paid it regularly for five years, but
he don't think of that. All Jennie's
made the last month she has had to pay
for fire and wood. She's but fifteen,
and her pay is small"
"What do you owe Cyril Ormsby ?"
"Thirty shillings."
"And if he's not paid to-day he will
put you ont into the street to die!"
"He says the workhouse is the place
for paupers."
At this moment slim, pale girl Of fif
teen came in, crying bitterly.
"Mr. Wilkinson was out" she began;
and then seeing her visitors, she cried
eagerly, "Oh, Mr.. Wilkinson, you will
not let mother be put in the street. I'll
pay every penny, sir, if only you will
wait till she is better, and I can get my
full time to work"
Have you seen Mr.. Ormsby to-day,
Jennie ?" the old gentleman asked.
eyes, sir. He said he had no time to
hear any whining. The agent will be
here at twelve, and if the money is not
paid, he will put us out"
"May I p whispered Mile.
"Just as you please, my dear. Per-
haps this dying woman or her child will
drink up your charity"
Hush, hush /"
So tenderly, so delicately Millie gave
her charity, that there was only deepest
gratitude awakened without the CALLING
sense of obligation. She left more than
sufficient for comfort for some weeks, and
promised to send delicacies for the in
valid.
No word of herself passed her lips un-
til they were once more in the narrow
street.
"Ob, Uncle Marc" she said, can it
be true that he is SO hard, so false to
me?"
"Wait, was the brief reply.
They went into the wide ourt-yard in
whose space stood the four great factor
les, the joint property of Marcus Viii.
kinson and Cyril Ormsby, long before
divided by the entirely opposite manage
ment of these two into two distinct de-
partments-one entirely under the COR
troll of the elder, the other of the young
er man.
Wilkinson's absurd soft-hearted-
ness" as Cyril mentally characterized
it, had made this division absolutely
necessary"
But it was not into his own kindly
governed, well-ordered departments
that he led his ward. He turned into a
small room, where pale man was bust
ly writing, and at the same time over
looking long room, where about seven
ty girls were at work before busily
whirling machines.
"Good morning, Watkins" the old
gentleman said. 81 was in hopes that
you were taking a holiday"
"Thank you, sir r. was the reply in a
detected tone. 81 can't we'll quit work,
sir. There's the wife and six little ones,
you see"