The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1881-03-26

naQ preceded IL, leu Une way up SIdlrS'
To my great relief, our prospective
ledger, far from objecting to the sloping
roof and old-fashioned furniture, seemed
to regard them with feelings of positive
interest and admiration.
at is like the chamber that used to
sleep in when was boy,' he said, as
he looked around, and speaking more to
himself than me.
AS / wanted Margie to see him before
l decided, took him down through the
sitting-room where she lay.
"This gentleman thinks of taking our
room, sister," l said, as she glanced up
at us.
If within my means,' interposed
the stranger. 81 am poor man.
Margie's clear, soft, penetrating eyes
were quietly reading the face Of the
speaker. What she saw seemed salts
factory, for she nodded in reply to my
questioning look.
In spite of his threadbare apparel; he
looked so thoroughly respectable that l
was half ashamed of the question l was
obliged to put:
81 suppose you have references, sirp"
"No; all are dead who might speak
for me if they could. You will have to
take me on trust. !"
looked at Margie again, who, giving
me another nod, said:
"Perhaps the gentleman will mention
what he feels able to payp"
The stranger did so, adding:
81 am poor, and can not pay one
penny more"
ont fho fol 10 he
amount he had stated, he pushed it to-
ward me, adding:
"My name is Thomas. I'll be here
tomorrow morning with all my traps"
The traps mentioned were an old-fash.
Toned hair-trunk and q large chest, the
latter being mainly filled with books.
We were not long in finding out that our
ledger was very odd, though his oddities
were of the most innocent and harmless
nature. He asked me to substitute q
patchwork quilt for the white counter
pane on his bed; and spent whole day
rummaging auction rooms to find an old
fashioned chintz to take the place of the
pretty muslin curtains on which l had
spent so much time and labor. had taken
a rocker for him from the sitting-room,
but spying, one day, an old, leather
bottomed chair, that had belonged to
my grandfather, he asked me to ex-
change with him, which l was very glad
to do. Not long after, a chest of drawers,
that was my grandfather's, found its
way back to its old place, together with
the quaint, brass-mounted mirror that
always hung over it. So that, at last,
the room looked very much as it did be-
fore we rearranged it with so much care
and labor. .......
John and l had quiet laugh over it,
but so long as it suited its present occu.
pant we did not mind, and it seemed to
suit him completely. He spent much of
his time reading. No one called to see
him, or wrote to him, though he re-
ceived quantities of papers and maya
zines.
1t was Margie that first suggested that
we invite him to take tea with us one
day, when we had some unusual deli
cacy-early strawberries, think.
"He must be very lonely, poor
mani" said my gentle hearted sister.
"Perhaps he doesn't have enough to
eatP He spoke about being poor, you
know"
After this he dropped in, occasional
ly, evenings, bringing some new maya
zine or paper, and reading to us as we
sat at work. Finally it became an es-
tablished custom with him to take tea
with US twice, and sometimes three
times week; frequently inviting him
self, though we always knew he was
coming by the advent OF the market
boy with liberal supply of provisions,
all of the best quality.
This troubled Margie's tender con-
science, and she demonstrated with him
one day.
cit is wrong" he said, with grave
shake of the head. "I'm a poor man;
and ought to be more prudent"
But he continued on the same way
and we finally got so used to his oddities
of speech and action as to think little of
them.
He and John were, apparently, on
the best of terms, and yet he was always
finding fault with him to me.
"To think of his taking the entire
charge of his mother, when she has
other children, and sending money to
his brothers. widow, beside!" he said to
me one day. 'He is poor man, and
always will be!''
Now, 1 could never endure the slight
est reflection upon John, and I defended
him with a spirit and indignation that
seemed to amuse Mr.. Thomas not a
little. ''f -
"With thy pretty face and ways, thee
ought to do better, Ruth" he resumed,
when | paused for want of breath.
"Not but what John is good, but he is
poor. I've heard that thee refused Mr..
Hart, who is worth million. What
made thee do such foolish thing as
that, childp"
because didn't love Mr.. Hart; and
/ do love John"
The silence that followed made me
glance up at my companion, who had
turned toward the door. 1t was grow
ing dusk, and the face was partly avert
ed, but /. was almost sure that the ewes
were full of tears. r...
Mr.. Thomas generally used the plain
est language, almost invariably so when
speaking to me or Margie, and until
saw that he was regular attendant at
st. Luke's, l supposed him to be a
Quaker. When l alluded to this i'm
preston, he said:
I az was broughtup in that faith; and
/ "A L 4 a