The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1881-08-17

"such old people, and 1 have com
to take their home away said Nj
Faxon.
There was a strong pain in hi
dark face now, as he stood lookin
down at the porch floor.
After moment he stepped off tn
porch on the further side, and walk
ed away under the apple-trees.
When Mrs. Faxon came back from
his briefistroll, his presence, as h
crossed the yard, was observed.
Awhile haired old man, who ha,
come to the open door and taken VI
the hickory stick, turned back hasti
ly with a few hurried words, andth,
aged woman dropped her knitting
and rose up with a paleness drop
ping over her face.
But, while Mr.. Faxon hesitated OF
the porch again, both came to th,
door. Sad, startled faces, they botf
had, but they were civil. Thei
greeting was kindly, as to a friend.
"My name is Faxon," said the Wis
itor, 81"
"We know who you be, sir" sale
the old man; we know who you be
though we have never seen you be
fore. Will you come in?"
Mr.. Faxon stepped across the
white hall floor into the quaint, cool
and comfortable sitting room.
The rough blue paper, like chintz,
on the wall, some honesty" and
dried grasses in opaque white vases
upon the high, narrow mantle,piece,
unconsciously, struck his eye while
he took his seat, his mind occupied
with other thoughts.
"We've been long expectin' you,
sir" said the old lady.
Her hands, clasped on her spotless
gingham apron upon her lap, trem.
bled little, but the serenity of her
manner was not much changed.
But the old mans eyes swan in
tears. He rested both hands on the
hickory stick between his knees, and
he sat in u corner, and bending his
forehead upon them, partially hid
his face.
"Yes! yes! but it comes sort o sud,
den now," said the old man.
Mr.. Faxon sat in speechless sym,
pathy.
AFTER q little .papse1 old :Mr. Derby
looked up, and met his eyes.
"Of course, its all right, sir. We
don't question your right TO the
place; but we've been sort Of unfor,
tunatc. l think so-don't you,
mother2"
The old lady lay back among the
cushions of the dimity covered chair,
She had a look Of physical weakness
Mr.. Faxton had not noticed before,
She did not speak.
Her husband looked at her attent.
lively. A sudden flash went over
his thin face.
"It's not for myself l care-it's
her!" he cried, striking bis cane vic,
lently upon the floor. "She helped
to earn this place when she was
young. There was no kind Of work
but what them hands you see lyin'
so weary in her lap, sir, was put to.
She was up early and late, always a
doin' for me and the children. God
never made better wife and moth.
er. And now, sir, it's hard that she
should be turned out Of her house in
her old age.
Hush, hush, Daniel" said the old
lady, softly. "The Lord will provide,
and it's not long we have to stay in
the world, you know"
"WiIl you tell me the history Of
the place, Mr.. Derby?" asked Mr..
Faxton. "How did you come to
lose il?"
"1t was mortgaged, sir" said the
old man, at last, "to pay the boys
college bills. You see we had three
children-Selwin, Roscoe, and little
Annie. Mother an l didn't have
an education, but we said all along
that our children should have; an
they went to the district school and
then to the academy-and by and by
we fitted them off for college. Bright
smart boys they were-everybody
said my boys had good parts, though
Roc. was always a little wild.