The Press., 1884-03-13

der; no chairs, the window uncurtained and the shabby bed-spread was tattered and soiled until its pattern was beyond all recognition.
 Octavia's soul recoiled from this imper- sonation of hopeless poverty.
 ''Can do anything for you, MT. Ferrl- gan ?'' she asked, after she had tenderly administered the farina- jelly, the fruit and the sponge cake, strengthened up the bed clothes. and trimmed the lamp atresh.
 ssIts very good of you, am sure, said the old man, with the plaintive courtesy of his nation 'tAnd I'll not deny it was word
 of comfort and kindness that was weary
 ing for. But it won't be needful long, I'm
 hoping. I've sent word to my son-he's
 book binder, mi s, and doing well at his
 trade. but it is natural like. don't you see
 as he wouldn't like to be dragged down by
 such useless old clog as me y
 ''But he is your son, isn't he" cried
 Octav a; ''and you're his father?'
 "Faith, and that's true, miss dvar, sad
 old Ferrigau, with a sigh. "But he's
 fine, ambitious young man-a rale g1ntle- } maa to look at, and of Sunday ycu
 couldn't tell him from the gentry them = selves An he may marry grand lady yet-who knows ?-ard he wouldn't like me to be spoilin' his chances. So just
 keep dark, Miss Glenn; an sometimes thiuk-Lord forgive me -that I'd be bet tor dead an out of the way. But sent word to him day before yesterday An he'll come T think he'll come !' the old man added, with scarcely audible sigh. At that moment careless step came up the stairs-the door was pushed open and ! tall figure strode in.
 } sS.ck again P said petu|and tone. "lt
 appears to me, old gentleman, that lis :oe e tr oIyof t for other people, Well, what is it now e If its money you want, you may as well
 understand, first as last, that l can't lei you have any. You'll have to swallow that absurd prejudice of yours against charita
 ble institutions, or"
 He stopped short, impelled by the hur
 rivd gesture of the old mau's hand. n ssSomebody's here ?" said he, pserine y through the semi-darkness. "Well, why e could you say so? Who is it |? The ole o hag downstairs, or"
 J. "It is I, MT. F,tz Arragon," /" said Oc tavia, quietly advancing-"Octavia Glenn: "Oh, b,.g thousand pardons r sait t MT. Ferrigan Fitz Arragon, hurriedly as could have imagined that such an honor a
 this was in store for me" ,s ''I don't know what you mean by sucl l. honors," said Octavia, bluntly. ''I am
 working girl; you are book-binder. w a, have neither of us any reason to b <, ashamed of our calling; yet see no lie ' cessity for fine language and suited titles 1t Your poor old father is very ill, aud seem IS to be in need of the commonest necessitie of life. Suppose you sell your diamon sr ring and help him ?'
 t. That was the end of MT. Fitz Arragon' a. pretensions. He never came back to tn ie country solitudes again, to Fernand " Glenn's bitter sappolntment. n But how could he face them all, after a. was discovered that his "author=hip" ( m ''Stray Leaves" and N"Floating Faucies aa was confined only to putting the covers o
 the same, and that the real author was a. stout, short, old gentleman in spectscles
 and that even hls name was a fabrlcatlo g. of his own ingenious brain? 's- Old MT. Ferrigan dird. Perhaps, as h
 himself had limited. it was the best an , wisest thing he could do.
 sa But Octavia Glenn's kindness and watcl Cl- ful care soothed his last hours, and sI ne had the satisfaction of getting the prce :, decent funeral out of the ambitious sol lu e "A jay in borrowed plumage" sE thought "I never despised any one < much in my life P
 c. And when Fernando bewailed her dell le sion, old Grandfather Glenn only smile It and said
 o "Didn't I tell you that he was on 'e- electro-plated ?''