The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1884-01-17

after am we'll on in my profession. ]
love her dearly. She is Charles Rush.
toms daughter"
''Miss Rushton!. said Aunt Betsey.
She folded her hard little hands togeth.
er and stood looking at me. "The very
top of the ladder" she said. Erich and
stylish, and high family. and 30 pretty.
But: you II have your things done in the
family then, and see no more Of old
Betsy"
"l'll give Won my co)lars while have
one lett, and all my wife's ruftles, too."'
II don't want hers" said Betsy, cross.
". "Wish you joy, Mr.. Arthur Var
Ley. Pm sure it's tine match-but her
things don't care for"
"Too, much trouble, I suppose"
said, as the door closed.
But thought of my mother more and
more. and as that day was the one on
which drew my allowance. went up
to the doctors house, intending to
make one more effort to move him to
tell me whore to find my mother.
The doctor sat alone il. ihiS Study. An
eneelope lay before him. Az he saw
md)he drew it toward him, took out q
parcel of bank notes, and with them .
letter, which he at once returned to the
envelope and thrust into his vest pock-
ct.
"a letter from my mother" I said and
looked at the vest.
1t was an ordinary black vest, but the
cut was lower than that usually wore.
He paid me my weekly allowance,
said that my mother sent her love, and
heard of my hopes and wished me joy.
And after a few words more took leave
of him, but not to 60 directly home.
sought Mrs. >artain at once.
"Mrs. Sartain," [ eaid. ''it's growing
very cold, and noticed that the doctor
has q low.cut vest on. Get it off of him
or he may have an attack of pneumonia.
A gentleman know caught cold which
resulted in consumption in that way.
Take high vest into him and insist on
his wearing it at once"
''You good boy" cried the doctors
wife; chow thoughtful Of you" And
away 8 he ran. followed.
"Only to look at this en- :yclopedia q
moment" l said, and buried my face in
the book, while the lady urged the ex-
change of vests, and the gentlemen pro-
away, and followed. Good Mrs. Sartain,
little did she guess that, as l walked be-
hind her, l picked the pocket of the
garment she carried under her arm.
l had the letter, and could scarcely
wait long enough to get to a place Of
safety before opening it. At last, in q
little ice cream saloon, sat behind a ia
bic shiny with oil cloth. and plentifully
adorned with the marks of saucer bot
toms, and opened the note. 1t began
thus:
II haye heard my boy is to be married.
God bless him it is a good match, but
my heart aches. l almost wish l had
not done what did, but how could I let
the poor fellow bear the shame OF his
fathers crime? And now I'd rather die
than have him know; but my heart
aches, my heart aches. No, no, no.
say again, never tell him. I am sick
with sorrow aud fear. Write and tell
me you'll never tell. Do you remember
my number? It is 20 Bloomington
road"
had at last, my mothers dwelling
place, and clew to her conduct. Ny
father had in some way shamed US both,
but now would go to her; we would
know each other, and this good moth.
er.
Bloomington Road was in the suburbs
Of our city. She was near me then-
only an hour or two lay between US.
flew no me, dressed myself and called
cab. l had not patience to walk. As I
drove on / pictured my mother-a grace.
full lady in middle life; her hair touched
with gray; her smile sad, though sweet.
There was picture in the Doctors
drawing room which l fancied resemble1
her--the portrait Of an English duchess.
Bloomington Road number 20" cried
the cabman opening the door.
stepped out and looked about me.
Number 20 was plain, two. roomed cot
tage, with long shed attached. I had
could this be her home? / touched the
handle of the little bell. A girl with her
sleeves rolled up from her wet arms and
a rubber apron opened the door.
Mrs. Variety" asked, "does she
live here?"
"l'll call her." said the girl, and left
me alone; and heard her voice repeat.
ing the name IN the distance.
Then another voice, crying, eyes,
I'm coming" and quick stepapproach.
ing. and before me stood old Aunt Betsy,
and on the instant the truth ralhed upon
mep and cried out:
"Mother!<'
There was my mother, little and
wrinkled, and strong eyes and red
cheeks, and her calico dress pinned up
over her flannel petticoat; and when /
said "Mother!" she shut the door and
held up both her hands, and said in
ehrill whisper:
"Hush! hush! hush! Who told you?
Keep it to yourself. You're gentle.
man. You're to marry Mr.. Rushton'f
girl. Don't say that again. Go away;
20 away. And keep it secret, as will.
But l took her hand and drew her t.:
me.
"Mother, why did you do this? What
did my father do?" l asked.
He was porter in a bank, Arthur"
she answered. "He robbed it. He
died in prison, He came near being
hung, for he killed a man trying to gel
away. And thought I'd spare my boy
school. I've made money, lad, hut q
Think of Miss Rushton. Co."
But I answered: kiss me, mother.
I shall tell Adj Rushton the truth, and
you shall toll for me no more."
No, Ada Rushton did not marry me,
and some If my friends dropped off, bu.
bore it very we'll. his is Is years ago.
and am 40 now; hut yesterday l mar
ried, and who so glad as my old mother,
who kissed me tenderly on my wedding
morning ard said:
''She's the wife I'd choose for you
Arthur, and not a proud, insolent thing
like that Miss Rushton' And you are
happy, dea,?"
And answered truly: mo happier
man under the sun, NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS..
Passing Fancies in Gems.