The Mineral argus., 1885-06-25


colt and l could hear nothing of them:
but my darling was ever in my mind.
and often imagined that she might
be welded to some disciple of Gam
brina. and | suffered like lovesick
schoolgirl.
Money never seemed to find NV
purse pleasant resting place, and
when was "A wears old. | was made
happy by II summons from NV uncle
in ST Louis. asking me to come to him
and help him take care Of his large
business. for he was getting intrm and
was his only living relative.
Every cent that could call my own
was not sufficient TO take me to ST.
Louis. | managed to get within
twenty miles Of it, suburbs. but there
| became bankrupt. ! might steal "A
hungry.
il would be eight hours before the first
train would come along. What could
| do to procure dinner? l looked
out Of the little depot window and saw
Il thriving looking farmhouse half
mile away.
NV resolve was taken. started on
brisk walk for that farm house.
piled the brass knOcker and was
answered by pleasant looking farm
er.
"Any clocks You would like to have
repaired to-day?"
''Wal. now. dun.know; there's that
old clock father left me. ''rve allus
thought Id like TO have that put to
rights"
Very well. would be pleased to
straightcn it up for YOU"
''What do you charger"
"One dollar, sir.
That's morn its worth. Ill Civ.
you quarter an your dinner?'
"All right. sir. II do H."
Fortunately he did not wait for me
to finish my work before dinner, he
took me at once to the kitchen.
wonder what the old fellow thought
Of my appetite, saw him watching
me with an astOnished look.
don't you wish you had given me
a dollar In stead OF nv dinner?" slipped
out of my mouth before thought.
IL swan do" replied he with guf-
faw. but. If you can tinker rs well
as you can eat. won't find no fault"
After dinner he conducted me to Il
pleasant sitting room and placed an
old fashioned clock upon the table for
me to manipulate.
He then left me. I looked ut that
clock with defiance and tackled it with
vim. 1t came to pieces readily
enough. All l could do was to rub II
little and put it together again. but l
would do that much any way.
As was busy securing up the dust
covered wheels. | became conscious
that there were some girls in the next
room taking an unseen survey of my
self and my dOings. The door be-
tween us was wide open. and ! could
hear them tittering as they looked
through the crack behind the door. ]
could hear too the click of sewing
machine and the rustic Of cloth in that
forbidden domain. but l concentrated
my mind upon my work, and soon !
began to wonder il ever | could put
the thing together again.
tried it: it was a vain endeavOr.
changed it half-dOzen times but still
it was no go. What was to be dOnes
I called nv futile brain to my aid, and
was about to inform my employer that
l had left some very important tools
where had last piled my trade, and
propose to go back for them before fin
ishing my work, and thus escape,
when | heard from the next room a
different sound from that of the sew
ing machine.
1t was that Of an imprOvised tele-
graph. The tapping of some hard sub
stance upon the window pane and to
my experienced ear it said:
~lc:~
have dropped one Of the wheels"
glanced quickly around. There lay
the wheel. Instead Of picking it up.
tapped with my jack-knife upon the
table:
'Who on earth are you?"
IAN old friend" came back
promptly.
Bismarck. | shouted, bounding
into the other room overturuing table
and clock in nv haste.
There she was, the precious darling.
prettier than ever.
caught her in my arms never heed
ing the astonished lOOkers.On, and
hugged her and kissed her with all the
pent up fondness of five years. and she
returned the kisses.
She will not own it now, but she did.
l would take my oath to it, but then
I've heard that women forget all about
their young days when they are once
settled in life.
Bismarck informed me that her par
ents had died of cholera almost
as soon as they had landed in Paris.
and that she had returned to
America and had sewed for her living
ever since.
Iput that clock together before !
started for town, and what was more