The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1881-09-15
ur room, sister, 1 said as she glanced

"If within my MEANS" interpose'
the stranger. Il am Il poor man."
Margie's clear, soft, penetratin.
eyes were quietly reading the face o
the speaker. What she saw seemed
satisfactory, for she nodded in reply tt
my questioning look.
In spite of his threadbare apparel, h,
looked so thoroughly respectable that
was half ashamed of the question wa.
compelled to put:
''l suppose you have references, STRIP
''No; all are dead who might speaf
for me if they could. You will have tc
take me on trust"
L looked at Margie again, who, Civ.
ing me another nod, saili:
perhaps the gentleman will mention
what he feels able to payP'
The stranger did so, adding:
IL am poor anu cannot pay one pen
ny more"
The sum named, though not large,
was more than what we were intending
to ask, as l told him.
The old man frowned and shook his
head. o
"Thee shouldn't have told me that.
l have half mind to give thee nc
more"
4HcH COtiulluy Oub upOu tuC tdUic
the amount he had stated, he pushed ii
toward me, adding: e l.
my name is Thomas. I will be
here tomorrow morning with all my
traps"
The traps mentioned consisted of an
old-fashioned hair-trunk. and q large
chest, the latter being mainly filled
with books.
- h NJ
our lodger was very old, though his
harmless nature.
He asked me to substitute a patch
work quilt for the white counterpane
on his bed; aud spent a whole day rum
aging auction rooms to find some old
fashioned chintz to take the place of
tho pretty muslin curtains on which 1
had spent SO much time and labor. I
had taken Il rocker for him from the
sitting-roOm, but spying, one day, an
old leather bottomcd CHAIR that had be-
longed to my grandfather, he asked me
to exchange with him, which l was
very glad to do.
Not long after, a chest of drawers,
that was my gr:lndfather's found its
way back 10 its old place, together with
the quaint brass-muunted mirror that
always hung over it.
So that, at last, the room looked very
much as it did before we re-arranged it
with SO much care and labor.
John and had Il quiet laugh over it,
but so long as it suited its present oc-
cupant, we did not mind.
1t was Margie who first suggested
that we invite him to take tea with us
one day, when we had some unusual
delicacy-early strawberries, l think.
'.He must be very lonely, poor manr'
said my gentle-hearted sister. '.Per-
haps he doesn't have enough to eatp
He spoke about being poor. you know"
After this, he dropped in occasional
ly in the evening, bringing some new
magazine or paper, and reading to us
as we sat at work. Finally, it became
an established custom with him to take
tea with lis 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 a liberal supply of provisions.
all of the best quality.
This troubled Margie's tender con-
science, and she demonstrated with him
one day.
1T is wrong" he said, with grave
and ouy yht to be more prudent"
He and John were apparently on the
best of terms, yet he was always find
ing fault with him to me.
ITO think of his taking the entire
charge of his mother, wien she has
other children, and sending money to
his brothers widow!" he said TO me one
day.
Now, could never endure the slight
est reflection upon John. and l defend
ed him with spirit and Indignation
that seemed to amuse Mr.. Thomas not
a little.
with thy pretty face and ways, thee
ought to do better, Ruth" he resumed,
when I paused for want of breath.
"Not but what John is good enough,
but he's poor. I've heard that thee res
fused Mr.. Hart, who is worth a million.
What made thee do such foolish thing
as that, childP"
because didn't love Mr.. Hart; and
1 do love john"
The silence that followed made me
glance up at my companion. who had
turned towards the door. 1t was grow
ing dusk, and the face was partly avert
ed, but was almost sure that the eyes
were full of tears.
In the early spring he was knocked
down by runaway horse, sustaining
some internal injury from which he
never recovered.
John and took turns in nursing him;
it was pleasant, afterwards. to remem-
ber that he wanted for nothing.
John, Margie and I were there. He
had been lying in stupor for some
hours; now he reused himself and be-
gan to talk, startling MS not a little by
his strange expressions. a
81 was born in this rOom," he said.
glancing around; ''and shall die
here"
Thinking his mind was wandering,
laid my hand gently on his.
'.Thee hast thy mothers name, Ruth,
and her kind heart as well. but thy
eyes are like thy fathers. He has been
here, thanking me for providing for
his orphan girls. This was our room
when we were boys. Dear old Joe! be-
fore the dawning of another day we
shall meet"
John and 1 looked at each other in
wondering awe. Two years before l
had stood by my fathers dying bed;
was it the same mysterious shadow that
made their faces look SO strangely like?
The dying man continues:
"Thy father and were brothers,
Did he never speak to thee of his BROTH
er Tom, who forsook home and coun-
try because girl. as false as fair, broke
her plighted troth to wed 4 richer suit
orr You have both been very kind to
the poor old man who came to yon
stranger. l have not forgotten it, as
the papers in my desk will show"
An examination of the papers allud-
ed to not only proved that my poor
uncle spoke truly, but that he died in
the possession Of bonds and stock to
the amount of twenty thousand dollars;
'.to be divided equally''-so ran the
few lines that comprised his will-''be-
tween his two nieces, Ruth and Marga-
ret Gray"
OF course, John and L married. His
mother and Margie live with us, and "a
happier home it would be hard TO find.
Charles Martin, i'm Indiana, went out
the other night 'cooning, and at length
he found what he thought was an inn