The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1884-06-06
BRINDLE.

corner OF Dauphlne Street. A. thin,
wiry little fellow, with quick, bright
gray eyes, which seemed to take in
many things at once; but his mouth
had a pathetic droop at the corners, as
if the things he did see had no cheer
Tor him.
"Auntie, let's buy some o. Brindle's
peanuts, my little niece whispered to
me.
"Brindle's peanuts? Who on earth is
Brindle?n
Look at him. That boy with the
ragged jacket. and his hair all striped
and strealsed, like our old brindle COW.
Looking at the boy, i saw that his
battered hat covering only a portion Of
his head, the hair exposed to the sun
was bleached q dirty yellow, and the
rest q pale brown.
Hes IN awful good boy" Constance
whispered, "and he never takes o teenty
nickel for himself. MI. Sothern knows
all about him, and he told us he was
working to take his mamma back to
Scotland to her people. He used to run
errands for Mr.. Sothern. That's how
he came to know about him. Mr.. So
them buys a ineap of peanuts to help
HIM along"
well, we'll help him to the extent
of twenty-fv e cents" I said, go and
buy your peanuts, Connie"
Connie was q demure little lassie of
nine years old, and, being an only
child, was more womanly than her
years. She knew everybody, and had
a word or smile for all, but she fairly
beamea upon Brindle that morning.
us your mamma better J" she asked.
mo, MISS" with q sigh. "She's
worse, and thut downhearted she wants
me to take her to the hospital. It
would not be a guide place for the NTH
er, for if her room is ma sac bonny,
there's abig tree at the window, and its
q Draw outlook Tor her"
II suppose your mother has always
lived ill the countryp / asked.
"Oh yes. We never lived N q city
till we came here to meet father; and
he was dead with yellow fever when we
landed. If it wasn't for the big, bonny
tree, mither would have died. But she'll
see the woods of Craigie Burn if / live
/ smiled at the decision with which
Brindle spoke, and then / sighed, re-
Numbering the piles and piles of pen
nuts which would have to be sold BIZ
fore the sick woman would see "Craigie
Burn" woods.
where does your mother live?n I
asked.
Number IA B Street. Her name is
Wilson, and / am Andrew Wilson,
ma'am."
Lets go and see Brindle's mother,
auntie," Connie said, the next day.
why don't you call him by his real
name, Andrew 2" / asked.
20 auntie, I can't. 1t was Brindle I
was so sorry for. 1t was Brindle's pea
nuts ! bought, and it seems to me as if
Andrew isn'tthe same boy. Illask himif
he minds me calling him Brindle. Nam
ma says | may take Mrs. Wilson a nice
cold lunch, and see if she's comfor'bie."
Connie had a had q habit Of dropping
her ITS" IN all possible occasions.
Number Ia was soon reached. A
small, shabby cottage of four rooms, di-
vided in half by a plank partition, two
of them being occupied by a noisy Irish
family. The Wilson's rooms, though
bare, We're clean. So too, was the young
woman seated at the open window, who
turned her pale, patient face towards us
as we entered.
"a guide mornin'', leddy," she said.
evil you TAX a seat? My knees is that
bad with rheumatic the mornthat Ican't
stand on my feet. You've come for the
handkerchief maybe, and I've been too
bad to work the name on il. Ny hand
is swelled too, you see."
No, / answered. / had left no hand
kerchief there to be embroidered.
Il heard from your son you were
worse to-day said; "and so my little
niece and / came to see if we could do
anything for you"
"He'sa goodboy,' Connie interrupt
ed, and we buy q heap of peanuts from
him, so he can make money to take you
back home"
The poor woman's lip quiyered and
her eyes fixed themselves upon the way-
ing branches OF the tree ather window.
But in a moment big tears rolled down
her cheeks-silent tears, for she uttered
not . word or sound.
TITS the word name ma'am," she
said, after q few moments. 1T brings
back bonny Craigie Burn and the old
father in his bit cottage, lookin' and
longin' for mel And then my poor An
| drew, toilin,' and moilm,' and thinkin'
he can make siller enough to take us
back hame. It's like a bairn's play,
ma'am, for he Gamma do it. Oh no, puir
boy, he Gamma"
Have you no friends in Scotland
who could send you your passage
money!" I asked.
"Freens. yes; but puir bodies, they
have a'they can do to get along. The
old father is alane, for I am a. the BARN
he has. No, ma'am, ] dinna hope any
more, but that my sorrowful days will
not last long. Puir Andrew caana help
me-"
II b1ieve he'll make money enough
for you," Connie interrupted, her fair
face flashing with indignation. "Mr.
Sothern says if anybody can do it, he.
will. You ought Is courage him, stead.
of sayin' he can't and he never speadin'
o nickle, but savin' it all for you. My
papa tells me where there's q will,
theresa way. know he'll take you
back home, and you mustn't talk that
way"
Mrs. Wilson stared in dismay at this
rebuke from Connie, who looked like q
rufled bantam. The next moment to
my surprise, she seized the child's hand
and pressed it to her lips.
It'll mind xe, my little leddy!" she
caied. It'll take the words of q babe as
a sign from thu lord He rahnkas mo