The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1885-10-22
BILLS LITTLE BILL.

BILLS LITTLE BILL.
No one ever knew where the child
came from or even its name.
One day sloop freighted with brick
was unloading up town, and hand on
deck was tossing bricks, two BY two, to
another man on the dock. All of sud-
den wee little chap, not more than
two years old, came toddling along,
got right in the way and was knocked
over by the flying bricks.
Bill Foster, who was handling the
load, was rough man. 1t had not
been exactly his fault that the child had
been knocked down, still he felt very
sorry for it. The little fellows head
was badly cut, and he was stunned.
He was carried into the cabin of the
sloop, and there lay quite motionless.
The captain Of the sloop sent to the
police station, and the surgeon came.
The child was carefully examined. The
surgeon said the case might be a
serious one and that the little boy had
better be taken to the hospital. Foster
had sister, who worked in a laundry,
and at once he sent for her. Mollie
Foster hurried down to the wharf, took
the child in her lap, and listened breath
lessly to what the surgeon said. The
doctor was a humane man, for when he
left he put half dollar into Molly's
hand and told her to buy some ice to
cool the water she was using on the
bandages.
Molly Foster famed and famed that
little sufferer, and bathed its head, and
was tender with the child. About sun
set the surgeon came again, and just
then the child opened his eyes.
"We'l. that's good sign.' said the
doctor. Nov hadn't you better adj
vertise him, since nc me has come for
him? Somebody will claim him, sup
pose. 1 can arrange for you to keep
him if you want to-"
Although the accident10as reported
in two brief lines in all the newspapers,
and Notwithstanding the efforts of the
police to find the parents of the child,
no one ever came for it. All that
night Molly Foster nursed the child.
Occasionally Bill pushed his hard-lined
and weather-beaten face in the cabin
window and looked wistfully at the little
child. He never went to sleep that
night, but kept walking up and down
the deck. At daybrcak he said to
Molly in a hoarse whisper: "Molly,
take that kid to your room. It's got
to be done.'
Bill Foster, who was man of forty,
l have said was rough. do not know
how it happens, but handling bricks
seems to make people coarse and
rather brutal. Bill would take not
only one glass of whisky, but as many
as he could drink. Mixing with a
crowd of men worse than he was who
frcquented rum shops he was much
given to fighting, and his face was as
often as not distigured with black
eye or cut lip. Bill earned about a
dollar and quarter a day, and when
the week was up he never had a penny
left. Perhaps if Bill had not been q
little drowsy and stupid that morning
from too much liquor the day before
when the little chap got in the way,
he (BilD would have been more care
fnl how he threw his bricks.
The week after Molly had taken
charge of the little child Bill resisted
the temptation to 60 on a spree and
gave his sister a dollar and a half.
That was the first time for years that
he had ever saved a cent. The week
after that Bill did even better. There
was Molly working as hard as she could
at the wash board or ironing board,
earning seventy cents day, and feed
ing the child. That shamed Bill. 1t
happened that the little boys short
frock had been stained with blood.
Molly had carefully washed it, but still
Bill thought he saw stains on it and
that worried him sick.
Next week, when he saw his sister,
who was waiting on the wharf for him
with the little fellow in his arms, he
said: ''See here, Molly, it's kind of
hard on you having to feed the little
fellow. Bread and milk and potatoes
costs money, and nursing him takes
away lots OF time, anyways. dressing
of that kid would be just ruination to
you. Here dollar and half for his
keep, and here's dollar besides, and
buy calico or something and make a
frock for that child, and mind you burn
the one he's got on, and next time see
him let him be looking prime, won't
you?'
Its mighty good Of you, Billiard
just you wait. Ill rig him out. He
isn'ta bit of trouble. When I'm at work
l take him to the laundry, and he's
real pet there. used to be afraid he
was kind of dazed-but don't you
bother, Bill, he's all right, for he takes
to playing now. He's only quiet on
account of his natural sweetness-all
real good children's that way-and l
love him, just as if he Was my own
baby.
On the next trip up the North river
Bill Foster pondered great deal over
the child. The fact is, the child,
whether he was awake or asleep, was
never out of Bills mind. He had
never thought much about anything
before, and it was hard work for him
to think at all. Maybe because for
more than one-haf his life, his brain
had been muddled by liquor, he had