The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1880-05-20
'rize before, now he only looked for a

|
blank.
| He went into his small room. Sally
sat at her table sewing. She looked un
at SIMON as he entered, and her ewes
filled with tears.
Husband she said, GIVE got to
ask You about the bank book. hoped
TO leave the money lie and then add to it.
Lou We got it safe, l suppose"
Yes, the book is safe,'' said Simon,
with dreary expression.
I'd like to see it, if you don't mind -
SAID poor Sally. alt seems as if it would
be sort of comfort
Simon took the book from his pocket
and handed it to her.
She opened it and glanced at it.
Then her face flushed and she began
to cry.
."'Don'tr' said Simon. "Don't, Sallyl
-don't cry. | meant it for the best.n
" Ii you needed it, you were welcome.
1t belonged to you as much as to mel
said Sally; "but you might have men.
TONED it. I'd have been prepared"
:" was SO sure.'' said Simon. $50
stlre.''
80 sure of what?" asked Sally.
VI the fifty thousand pounds,n said
Simon; [ expected 1t long ago."
You've never told me what ypu ex-
pect it FROM" said Sally. "Do YOU ever
think it will be left youp Was it your
fathers money! If you'd tell me
could think it over. What was itp You
wouldn't deceive me, and you are not
crazy; but | can't think what you mean
| by expecting nifty thousand pounds.
And, oh, am SO worried, Simonr'
| Perhaps it may come yet, Sally"
said Simon.
He took his handkerchief from his
pocket as he spoke and wiped his wife's
eyes with it,
AS he did SO bit of yellow paper fell
into her lap-the last GumbO Lottery
ticket, bought but an hour before.
She caught at it and her face flushed
again. She looked at her husband with
the gleam OF anger in her eyes, and cried
out, sharply:
us this it? Is this the secret-the
fortune you'v We talked of? Are you crazy
enough for this? Have you been buy
ing tickets in that cheating lottery all
these years, and is my last pound, that
l see you have drawn from the bank to-
day, spent for that thing?''
Poor Simon! He stared at his wife for
a long time without answering; then he
said, slowly: tE
Think of it-forty- blanks, and
every time expected prize-the capt.
tai prize. Think of my disappointmentr'
'' can't think of anything, except that
I've married a fool,'' said Sally. 81
could kill myself. when I think of it. l
believe you married me to get that fifty
pounds to gamble WITH
Then she began to cry.
"Yes, I've been fool, he said; "but
though the money made me think of ask
ing you to have me, meant to make you
rich. Ibid, Sally; Ivow l did. We've
got along very well, haven't we? I
think a great deal of you. l meant to
do everything for you; but it's all over
now. | look at that ticket, and / know
it's blank. Ishould never buy another
never, never! You see, that dream-s
l told you once of my ydream-appeared
as it it must come true; but my luck is
bad, see that
"Luck!' cried Sally, stung by resent
ment. Luck! o, get out Of my sight!
Pick up that ticket that you've spent my
last hard-earned pound on, and 60 where
| can'tsee you for little while, dor'
''Pm going, SallyIn said Simon.
He stepped towards her as he spoke.
He would have kissed her if she had
permitted him to do SO.
Then he picked up the yellow ticket,
read the number aloud-988 889-crammed
it into his pocket, and sauntered away.
At six O clock that evening there was
little crowd beside the mill dam.
1t was fast increasing, for body had
been taken out of the water with pock-
ct handkerchief full of stones about the
neck; Simon Wheeler's body.
He had drowned himself in less than
half an hour after he had walked so leis-
urely away from his injured Sally pres
ence.
They found in his pocket an empty
purse, a little list of numbers, and vel
low ticket soaked through, but still bear
ing on its surface the figures 1889.
Sally would have known what it was
but she never saw it, or the dead face
that looked in its marble whiteness like
some beautiful statue, for she lay upon
her pillow as white as he, with her little
baby on her bosom; and the three were
buried together in the little churchyard at
Painsted.
On the day of the funeral there was
drawing of the Gumbo Lottery.
The manager of the enterprise shouted
the numbers of the capital prizes; 1889
was not among them. Its. holder was not
entitled to fifty thousand pounds.
But it made no difference. Simon
Wheeler lay beside his wife unconscious
of the drawing, and the yellow ticket had
long ago resolved itself into yellow SOD
among the sedgy grasses by the mill
pond.
"A manuscript supposed to have been
written by ST. Peter has lately been dis
covered among the property of a man
named Bore, who died last year at Jeru-