The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1884-07-24

standing out here in the fog and cold
Ali this time. - She is coming al
las.-no, it was fancy; it seems as il
Betty had slipped out for something,
and perhaps the cook is up stairs, and
his mother may be doing by the fire,
as she has begun to do of late.
Losing all patience, he gropes for the
knocker, and. cropping in vain, begins
to hammer with bare fists on the door,
louder and louder, until he is inter
rupted by a rough voice from the rail-
ings behind him.
Now. then, what are you up to
there, eh?' saws the voice, which be-
longs to burly policeman who has
stopped suspiciously on the pavement.
why" says Rolleston, Il want to
get in and l can't make them hear me.
| wish you'd try what you could do;
will you?''
The policeman comes slowly into the
gate Il dessay," he says jocularly.
.'Is there anythink else? Come, sup
pose you move on"
A curious kind of dread of he knows
not what begins to creep over Wilfred
at this.
.'Move on?" he cries; ':why should l
move on? This is my house; don't you
see? 1 live here.
Now, look ERE, my joker; 1 don't
want a job over this says the con-
stable, stolidly you'll bring a crowd
around in another minute if you keep
on that 'ammering."
.'Mind your own business" says the
other, with growing excitement.
That's what [ shall have to do if
you don't look out, is the retort. "Will
you move on before l make you?"
But. Isay," protests Rolleston, '1'm
not joking; l give you my word I'm
not; do live here. Why, I've just
come back from school, and l can't get
in."
Pretty school you came 'front.'
growls the policeman: 'andles on to
your lesson books, if knows anything.
Ere. out you go"
Rollest0n's fears increases. won t!
WON'T" he cries frantically, and rush
ing back to the door beats upon it Wild
ly. On the other side of it are love
and shelter. and it will not open to him.
He is cold and hungry and tired after
his walk; why do they keep him out
like this?''
"Motherr' he calls hoarsely. Cant
you hear me, mother? It's Wilfred;
let me in''
The other takes him, not roughly, by
the shoulder. "Now you take my ad-
vice." he says. "You amt quite your
self you're making a mistake. l don't
want to get you in trouble if you don't
force me to it. Drop this ere tomfool
game, and 90 home quiet to wherever
it is you do live
81 tell YOU live here, you fool.'
shrieks Wilfred, in deadly terror lest he
should be forced away before the door
is opened.
''And 1 tell you you don't do nothing
of the sort" says the policeman, be-
ginning to lose his temper. "No one
don't live ere. nor amt done not since
I've bin on the beat. Use your eyes if
you're not too far gone"
For the first time Rolleston seems to
see things plainly as they are; he
glances around the square-that is just
as it always is on foggy winter even
ings, with its central inclosure
shadowy black mass against reddish
glimmer, beyond which the lighted
windows of the houses glow in yellow
bars of varying length and tint.
But this house, his own-why, it is all
suffered and dark; some of the
window-panes are broken; there is a
pale gray patch in one that looks like a
dingy bill; the knocker has been un-
screwed from the door, and on its
scraped panels some one has scribbled
words and rough caricatureS that were
surely not there when he lett that
morning.
Can anything-any frightful disaster
have come in that short time? No,
he will not think of it; he will not let
himself be terrified all for nothing.
"Now, Are you goin'?" says the pO-
liceman, after a pause.
Rolleston puts his back against the
door and clings to the sides. mo-"
he shouts. 81 don't care what you say;
| don't believe YOU; they are all in
are, l tell you, they are
they are.'
In a second he is in the constable's
strong grasp. and being dragged, strug
Cling violently, to the gate, when a soft
woman s-intercedes for him.
"What is the matter? o, don't
don't be so rough with him, poor crea-
turer' it cries, pItifully.
I'm only exercisin' my duty, mum" D."
says the officer; she wants to create
ERE"
MOI cries Wilfred, che lies! l only
want to get into my own house, and no
one seems to hear me. You don't think
is wrong, do you?''
1t is lady who has been pleading for
him. As he wrests himself from his
captor and comes forward she sees his
face and her own grows white and
startled, "Wilfred?" she exclaims.
why, you know my namer he says.
''Then you can tell him it's all right
Do know you? You speak like-fs it
Yes she says, and her voice is low
and trembling, Il an Ethel"
He is silent for an instant; then he
says slowly: "YOu are not the same
nothing is the same; it is all changed
oh. my God, what am I?"
Slowly the truth is borne in upon his
brain, muddled and dis6rdered by long
excess. and the last shred of the illu-
sion which had possessed him drifts
away.
He knows now that his boyhood, with
such possibilities of happiness as it had
ever held, has gone forever. He has
been knocking at door which will
open for him never again, and the
mother by whose side he had meant to
spend the evening died long years ago.
The past, blotted out completely for
an hour by some freak of the memory,
comes back to him, and he sees his sui
len. morhid hoYhOod changino into