The Cecil Whig., 1885-12-12

soft, warm June night, like a June
night twenty years before, when 81
McGuffin found himself a beggar
Strange, this was the anniversary o
that night.
Tick tap, tick tap went the shoe
maker, busy at his task. He must
have good sight to work in the twi.
light, thought the watcher. ST stepped
to the door and looked into the dirty
room with its smoke-stained paper and
bare floor. There was pile Of leather
in one corner, some worn shoes and
boots, one mended pair, a cobbler's
bench, and on this an old, old man
sitting at work-a man with long
white hair and beard, clad in rags, and
so dirty and neglected-looking, SO
bony and gaunt that it was pitiful to
see him. He had on a leather apron,
and in his lap was an old shoe. Tick
tap, tick tap, went the unfailing ham,
mer, while he picked the wooden pegs
from his mouth and placed them in
the sole. By side window in the
room, his back to the door and the
watcher, was thin, smallish boy,
white headed and barefooted, but hav-
ing good little face with big fore
head and bright, expressive eyes. 81
knew him, the motherless child of Tom
Bailey, the most sullen and discon-
tented workman in the mill. Why
don't the cobbler speak to me
thought ST. Just then the light from
neighboring cottage flashed ray
into the room, the cobbler straight
ened up his back with weary sigh,
and ST saw with start that he was
blind.
"Was yer liver IN jail?' said the
child shrilly. He was sitting on an
old barrel, his skinny legs crossed
under him, drawing on the dirty VIM
dow pane with his finger. Folks
round here sez yer wuz."
The cobbler sighed again.
81 was, Benny" he said piteously :;
''ten long weary years.
"Wot fur?' asked Benny calmly.
"For crime, sin, wrong" cried the
cobbler, great beads of perspiration on
his brow. ''Oon't, child, don't !" He
rose and groped his way to the boy.
Benny, I've been here six months !;
you're the only being that has spoken
kindly to me, that has come here in
this horrible quiet, this eternal dark
ness of mine and cheered me. Don't
think bad of me now, Benny don't
let them turn your innocent heart
against me. Never let you and me
talk of jails and that let's be peaceful
and shut in here from all the wicked
ness outside. I'll tell you such stories,
Benny, you'll not leave me alone here
such stories about heroes and
knights and giants your mother'd like
you to hear them, too; you'll not 60
back on me, little lad you'll not de-
sert me2"
eyer betcher l wunt," said Benny
promptly; 81 never meant nuthin.'
Ye and me is frens. My fathers a
bad man folks sez he wuddent stop
short O. murder. But mother allus
told me ter be good ter old folks. She
was edurkated, mother wuz, an she
knowed she's rite butuful. Every
body round here scrooges the old lone
ones, but l amt that kind
ST McGuffin walked away then. He
felt strange choking in his throat.
He carried with him a mental picture
of the room, the child by the window,
the old blind man cropping his way to
the child with trembling, outstretched
hand and supplicating voice. ST often
walked there evenings aferward, and
always saw the boy at the window and
the cobbler at work-tick tap, tick
tap-as regular and monotonous as a
CLOCK He learned that the old man
had come there stranger, that he
was bitterly poor, and that Benny was
as uncared for, as starved and neg
lected little child as ever there was
among all the motherless children of
the poor.
Times were dull that year and 81
McGuffin lowered the wages of his
men. Without his being aware of it,
money had grown to be his only aim
in life and he made all the profits from
his business that were possible. Then,
Tom Bailey being drunken and useless,
he discharged him.
Tom Bailey had studied the labor
question from the standpoint of an
evil disposed, idle man. That man
was well-to-do was an insult to him :;
that he was discharged was an offense
against all honest worllingmen and
wages being lowered meant that capi-
tai (and ST McGufin) were going to
grind the worKingmen beneath their
feet "grind your hearts and souls as
he does the wheat in his mills ~ Tom
roared in his great voice at a meeting
of the mi men of the ASSOCIATION he
had organized. Indignation meetings
were held every night in a cottage
turned into a hall and the mill men
began to feel the sense of a great
wrong with fierce, eager desire for
revolt and revenge.
They had been unfairly treated; ST
McGuffin admitted that afterward.
Surely the men who had been faithful
workers for years deserved some con-