The Toledo chronicle. [volume] (Toledo, Tama County, Iowa) 1873-1924, 1878-02-28

At this moment, : slim, pale girl Of
fifteen came in, crying bitterly.
Mr.. Wilkinson was out," she be.
gan; and then seeing her visitors, she
cried eagerly, "Oh, NJ. Wilkinson.
you win not let mother be put into the
street. III pay every penny, sir, 4
only you will wait TN she il better, and
1 can get my full time to work"
Have you seen Mr.. Ormsby to-day,
Jennier' the old gentleman asked
Yes, SIR. He said he had no time
to hear any whining. The agent will
be here at twelve, and If the money il
not paid he will put us out"
MAY Ip'' whispered Mile.
"Just as you please, my dear. Per.
haps this dying woman or her child
will drink up your charity"
Flush, hush.''
So tenderly, SO delicately, Mile gave
her charity, that there was only the
deepest gratitude awakened without the
CALLING sense of obligation She left
more than sufficient for comfort f0l
some weeks, and promised to send deli
cacies for the invalid.
Noword of herself passed her lips I'M
til they were once more in the narrow
street.
"Oh, Uncle Marcr' 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 courtyard
in whose space stood the four great fac
tories, the joint property of Marcus
Wilkinson and Cyril Ormsby, long be-
fore divided by the entirely opposite
management Of these two into two dis
tinct departments-one entirely under
the control of the elder, the other of the
"Wilkinson's absurd softhearted-
ness" as Cyril mentally characterized
it, had made this division absolutely
necessary.
But it was not into his kindly-gov-
erned, well-ordered departments that
Marcus Wilkinson led his ward. He
turned into a small room, where pale
man was busily writing, and at the
same time overlooking long room,
where about seventy girls were at work
before busily-whirling machinery.
- Good-morning, Watkins" the old
gentleman said. "Iwas in hopes that
you were taking holiday"
"Thank you, sirr' was the reply,
in detected tone. - can't well quit
work, sir. There's the wife and six
little ones, you see."
Have you told Mr.. Ormsby the doc
tor says that your life depends upon a
few weeks of rest and pure air?''
..Yes, sir. He's not keeping me; but
he says if I go he must fill my place
and that means starvation for my fam
lily. 1 could never get new situation,
as feeble as l am now"
How long have you been here, Mr..
Watkins?''
Seventeen years, sir. l was with
old Mr.. Ormsby before you came, sir. y
"a faithful servant seventeen yearsr'
said Mr.. Wilkinson, in q low tone;
" and few weeks rest may save his
lifer'
At this moment Mile shrank little
nearer her guardian. Through the
window from which Mr.. Watkins over.
looked the loom room, she could see
Cyril Ormby, walking briskly about,
his voice harsh and imperative, finding
fault here and there, and keenly scru-
tinizing every item of the work. Not a
face in the long room was frightened
by the presence of the master. Fingers
worked orerapidly, eyes were fastened
persistently upon the looms, and every
one seemed aware of a stern task.
masters gaze. But Mr.. Wilkinson
obeyed the mute petition expressed in
the looks of his ward, and led Mile out
into the wide passages again, to another
work-room.
It were too tedious task to follow
every step of these two as they passed
from room to room, everywhere meet
ing some assurance of Mr.. Wilkinson
own hold upon the hearts of the
" hands," and their terror of Cyril
Ormsby's harshness.
Out again amongst the squalid
homes, where her guardian had NO
control, but bestowed his kindly chart
ty without ostentation; and here, more
eloquently than ever, Millie heard how
cruel mockery were all the schemes
of charity and philanthropy that had
been poured into her ears. 1t needed
no spoken words from her guardian to
tell her that the noble words uttered to
win her were but those of hypocrisy,
which knew how it could best plead its
cause with her.
One and another, turning to MIR. Will
kinson as to friend, unaware of the
torture of their words to the kindly lady
beside him, told of cruel exactions OF
work in sickness or trouble, of closest
calculation of time, of small wages and
heavy rents.
"If we won't live here and pay, we
get no work in the factoriesr' one said,
when asked why he did not seek more
healthy quarter.
81 am doing overtime to pay for my
child's funeral" one said, for l lost
the wages for three days. 1 stayed by
her to see her die, and to bury her"
"rm uneasy about the rent" an
other said, "for I lost a week by fall
on the ice, and it's hard making it up
again.
Not one word of kindly sympathy, Of
help, in trouble or sickness. The
hands under Cyril Ormsby were
simply human machines to do SO much
work, sick or well, pay the price of an
hour or day of idleness, no matter how
necessary.
There was no word spoken as Mr..
Wilkinson and Mile walked to the
Office again Once there, the old gen.
tleman spoke, very gravely. "As your
guardian, Mile, / can speak to you nc
word against Cyril Ormsby. He is 9
rich man, of good social position, Of
irreproachable moral reputation, and
a man whose standing in business cir.
Giles is of the highest. A man who is q
good match in every worldly sense. Sc
much for your guardian. As your
friend, my pearl. who loves you Al
your own dead father might have loved
you, who knows every noble impulse Of
your pure soul-as that friend, l tell
you would rather see you lying beside
your mother than the broken-hearted
wife of such a man as Cyril Ormsby.' y
II came toyou as friend, as almost
father said Mile, land thank
you for keeping me from lifelong mis-
cry. To know my husband such man
as 1 know Cyril Ormsby to be. would,
as you say, break my heart
81 would not tell you," said her
guardian, "for you knew / disliked
him, and might have thought that dis
like prejudiced me. But, Mile, tell
me you will not let this days work
shadow your life. You did not love
Cyril. Milliep''
No, l reverenced what / believed a
noble, generous nature. That rev
erence mockery, shall never break
my heart for . man I thoroughly de-
spise, Uncle Mare
And SO it happened that Cyril Orms-
BY, coming to claim the fortune he be-