The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1881-02-25

phantly, "what have you to say Tor
IS Nothing," I replied s'and If itisnot
disrespectful to gray hairs, sir, beg to
return the compliment"
"Confound you,'' cried the old man,
springing up; ssthis is too much! A joke
is q joke, but it won't do to carry it too
far. have found you out, and You
should Try to conciliate and not to aggra-
vate me-"
"Sir," replied, "all you say is
doubtless perfectly true; but it is quite
beyond my powers of comprehension. !"
He put his double gold eyeglass tight
" on his nose, and looked at me long
and keenly. had risen, too, and stood
facing him. At last he said, with q sad
resentment: ,f1
Edward, is this the right way for
son to treat q father2''
You are laboring under some mis-
take" answered, gently, for there was
q moist look about the old mans eyes
suggestive of tears. 81 haze no father;
I only wish had" s.assl
There was silence between us, and
Tom stood regarding us both curiously.
At length my strange acquaintance
broke out again.
I" Nonsense, boy! Do you think l
don't know my own son?" a
But surely, sir" replied, "you do
not suppose me to be he!" 8'
1T would be strange, indeed, if l
could mistake my own Child" he an
swered, with plaintive smile. ED
ward, you have carried this folly far
enough, indeed too far.''
What was to do? what to say? How
was / to convince this gentleman, whom
I supposed to be wandering in his mind,
that he had made ludicrous blunder
in installing me for his son? Here my
honest friend Tom came to my rescue.
." If you are really serious, sir, in what
you say, can relieve any anxiety you
may feel on the subject. That gentle
man and 1 have been friends since we
were boys together at Eton; and even
in those days he had no father.''
The people were now again taking
their places, and the opening of the Sec
ond act put a stop to further converse
ton; but felt that my would-be rela-
ton scarcely removed his eyes from my
face; still, he never spoke again until
the play was entirely finished, and was
showing signs of leaving the theater.
He then placed his hand kindly on my
arm. stt t@ .li
"My boy" he said, 81 will forgive
you if only you will acknowledge that
you have been wrong to play such trick
on your father. You should not have
left your work when you knew how
much I wished you to pass your exam
ination well; but now that you are so
near home, you must not return to Cam
bridge without look at your mother.
l am going down by the last train, and
you will 60 with me.''
"My dear sir" exclaimed, 81 will
do anything you wish. 1 see you be-
ieve what you say; but, indeed, not
only am not your son, but I have
never had the pleasure of seeing you
before"
A smile was lurking round the old
mans mouth.
"Well, well, you will come home with
me, at any rate.''
Certainly, if it will ease your mind -
then suddenly remembering Tom Bruce,
IS that is, if my friend will excuse me for
a few hours; I must be back very early
in the morning. Where is it we are
going?"
"Where, but to Richmondp" he an
swered, impatiently; "you know we do
not leave there for some weeks yet"
"Never mind me-" exclaimed Tom,
good -naturedly; "give me the latch-key,
that is ALL" this aloud, and then in q
whisper: "Who knows, George, but
you may find the silver spoon at the
bottom of this? You had better 20 and
see it out.''
1 meekly handed him the key, and we
went out of the theater together. I
made one more protest, but it was USE
less; my old new father placed his hand
within my arm and drew me into a
IS four-wheeler," as though fearing I
should escape from hanson. We
drove to Waterloo, and were soon in the
train. A handsome carriage and pair
met US at Richmond Station, and I had
to follow my new-made acquaintance
into it. I began to feel most uncomfort-
able. Here was I, q perfect stran-
ger, driving up to the house OIL
did not know whom, and supposed to
be member of the family. What was
to become of me? I had come, out of
sheer good-nature, entirely because of
the dewy look in the old mans eyes;
and now I saw what q fool I was likely
to make of myself. had no means of
getting back to London that night, and
I had not even q razor or q night-shirt-l
not even a clean collar for the morrow;
and, what was worse still, should have
to 60 up in my dress-clothes. These
were not very comforting;
but it was of now use to show my vexa-
ton to my peculiar friend.
At length the silence was broken by |
the carriage stopping suddenly.
"Here we are!" he cried, eagerly |
preparing to get out. e
81 beg your pardon" said, detain-
ing him; "but I should be obliged if |
you would tell me your name; it is awk-
ward, not knowing" A,t r 3
He burst out laughing. |
"Come, drop that nonsense, Teddy;
It's too absurd!''
The carriage-door few open, and I
followed my companion out.
: I" Goodnight, Mr.. Edward, :" said the
Footman.