The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1882-10-13

her long time and thinking she was
dead. At first she declared that she
would 60 fright off," but after explain.
ing to her that she could not 90 till
morning, she sat down content Blu,
when he proposed writing to me to re-
turn for her, she grew wild again, and
they were glad to pacify her by prom.
Using her she should 60 on the first train
west.
Her account of her absence was vague
and confused. Somebody, she didn't
seem to know who. had promised to
tell her something she wanted to know
if she would 60 to walk with him. They
hadn't gone very far when they came to
a dark, dirty street, and somebody
opened door and caught her away
from the side of her friend into damp,
cold place, where there was no windows,
only two little panes of glass up high
like cellar. She thought she cried
and screamed, but she couldn't really
remember, she grew so sleepy ever
since, till that night. Then she had
opened her eyes and looked about and
there was nobody in sight. She thought
if only she could get away before any
one came! She sprang off the bed and
to the door but she could not reach the
latch. She moved up block of wood.
and by standing on tiptoe Unattached
the door, and without waiting an
instant she darted out and ran as fast as
her feet would carry her. She remem-
bered the name of the house, and after
coming by good many streets she
asked a lady. who pointed out the house,
which was just in sight, and SO she had
come TO it.
Mr.. Gordon had blamed himself very
much for letting her go as he had. But
he had thought shewould come through
safely, she seemed so bright and fearless,
and independent He had paid her fare
out of his own pocket as far as Chicago.
and given her money to pay it the rest
of the way. He had also given her in
charge of the conductor, and then not
quite satisfied had written that letter.
and thought everything was all right
and straight.
Then, taking Gordon with him, he
had returned to Detroit to find the con-
ductor. But he had been dead six
months. Then he had stopped all
along the route until at last he reached
Michigan City, the then terminus of the
road. 1t was a miserable, struggling
little place, its long pier laid with rail-
road track, running far down from the
''city" into the waters of the lake. The
boat that was to take them across was
nowhere in sight, and he went back
to the hotel where they had taken sup
per year ago when they came on. He
related his errand to the landlord, and
some way CHANGED to mention the child's
name.
"Viola" exclaimed gentleman,
looking up suddenly from his paper;
"why, Reeves, that is the name on the
little wooden cross old Briefly put up
over the child that died at his place last
summer. noticed it because the name
was odd and rather pretty
Well, the result of it was he did not
take the boat, but went out to see this
Briefly, who lived about two miles
away. He said he Lad found the child
in the. street, crying and bewildered,
just after the boat had left one night.
He took her home with him, where she
was sick good while and "crazy as a
bear" She kept saying her name was
Viola, and nothing else," and so when
she died he cut that name on bit of
wood, and put it up so as to show her
friends if they ever came.
DIT ,,,o,- ho,-a Ioa,, cDo,o o4lo,.
VIOLA" said Ralph, unwilling to believe
that the bright. spirited little creature
could die, as perhaps some other Viola
had done.
Il think there is no doubt about it
whatever. This Briefly is an old, eccen-
trio, misery fellow, who lives quite
alone in little hut near the lake, but,
though he bears rather sbad name in
the neighborhood, l think he did as well
as he could by her, and l could forgive
him great deal for that" Mr.. Ander-
son said, in faltering voice.
eff only we had waited little long
er. Ben
Eyes, but we did not know. For
some reason God saw fit to take her
from us in this sad way, but He knows
best. wife, and all His ways are right
And so the thought of a simple cross
bearing the dear name, by the far away,
lonely lake shore, fell into their hearts
sad, and tender, and sacred memory, to
be cherished and talked of, and remem-
bered forever. But now a new trouble
or rather an old trouble renewed
came to haunt Myra Anderson's heart.
Ralph declared his resolution to &C to
sea. This tame, monotonous farmers
life, fretted him more and more every
lay and week. All through the sum-
ner he dwelt upon it, and not even the
graceful destinations of his beautiful
cousin could drive it away.
LET the boy co. Tom Arnold said;
'one voyage will cure him. It's as
natural for Massachusetts, boy to want
20 90 to sea as it is to take to the girls.
don't believe in trying to force boy
70 stay at home if his heart is set on
going"
but father--Tom," she faltered.
"Yes, Myra, but because has ship
vent down, it's no sign Ralph's will.
You and / can never forget that; it
veaned me from the seal never want
o look on its treacherous face againr'
lie stopped abruptly and leaned over
md drew his sisters face to his bosom
md kissed it.
80 Tom, cannot let him go"' she
noaned.
''But he wiU, Myra; you may depend
IN that. The lad has got a will of his
,wn, may be YOU know"
Ralph was seventeen in October. He