Daily Republican., 1885-03-20
THE TURN or FORTUNES WHEEL
by ALICE DALE.

ny ALICE DALE.
Poor and friendless Alb, me
And 30 short time ago We bad every.
thing that heart can With, Robbie and
1! And now"
She paused and glanced around the
room with u look that spoke volumes.
A bit of sky parlor away up In the
third story of n rickety old tenement.
house, the two narrow windows, dingy
and drear. the prospect without still
more desolate. The room contained Just
the barest neCessaries.
Que small trunk which had Just ar
rived in company with its owner, the
future tenant, stood In the center OF the
bare foor--a pitiful email trunk, yet It
held all Edith Murrill's earthly posses
sions.
She looked like frail little flower ar
she stood in the dresry room in her
clinging black dress, the Grape upon 1t
telling it's own story.
A pale, delicate girl, with great dark
eyes and clouds OF golden hair-a
girl wbo u few short months ago had
been the acknowledged belle OF her own
select set" with a beautiful home,
loving parents, and every thing that
heart could crave, but now, by o turn
OF fortunes wheel, WAS little better
than n beggar. ana what WINS harder
Yet " bear, an orphan, Tor MI epidemic
had taken both father and mother In q
lew short hours and left her with her
little brother TO battle with life alone.
She thought OF it all standing there
within her poor shelter-her future
home Chow could she even look upon
this hare attic az hone?) and the tears
wtich had been very near her eyes,
brimmed over at last.
God help us - che sotbed despair
inRly, we haven't friend in the
world -
whisht, now, darlint | shure, ana
the good God niver forsakes them that
trusts in him %
She turned with q start of terror
which quickly disappeared at sight of
her visitor-a red-faced Irish woman
in @ calico gown, her sleeves rolled up
over her rough red arms, her face
TRANSPORTED by the kindly impulses
Of the warm heart beneath her coarse
attire, until Edith forgot its homel..
ness.
"Arrah now, honey! it's wrong ye
are, intirely," the woman went on,
consolin. ly. "Shure, ifyou've clane
conscience, and youth and health,
you've enough TO be thankful for. and
it's clane flynn in the face o. the One
who sinds all the trouble for your good
dye mind, honey? for your good for
you to be compJaipin'. l axe, your
pardon for ipterfarin', but tba truth is
I saw you o. comin' In here No young
aud pale and sorry lookin', nm l SECS TO
lnesilf, 'Biddy Maloney' (ue names
Buddy Maloney, miss, and I'm wildly
wild six shmall chil3er), 'Biddy, ye 90
in and tidy mp the room for the yonne
Teddy 30 akin your pardon, miss, II /
might be that bOuld, I'll ses the room
To rights in q jitiy!"
"How good you are, Edith eyes
were still full Of tears" md l have
nothing TO give you in returl!"
Wbisht, row 'Twould be shame
If Blddy Maloney I'D take clint Tor a
dacint neighborly action; jist ye set
down; miss, an ri make everythin'
hs bright AS a dollar
Aud she did. The big strong AIS
made short work of dust and dirt, and
when everything was in order = pro.
ceeded 70 prepare q frugal meal and
make Il cup Of tea for the two.
Robbie, who was only eigh: years
cd, had chung to his sisters hand ever
since their entrance into the forbiddine
place, but gradually becoming &C
cuscomed to his surroundings began to-
amuse himself after his oYu childish
fashion.
Warmed and rsfreshed-cheered n
litile in spite of her dismal prospect
Edith found herself pouring her troubles
tuto the ready ear OF the Irish woman.
who, with the warm heart which charac.
ter " :, tie race, listened, ard sympa
thiz,d accordingly. IL seemed that
" ben Il iiih's father, John Mnrrill had
died, "a fdise Claimant TO his ealtL had
cuud My appealed upuu The scene
Ills claims were siaiply enormous, and
poor Edith, little better than a child,
hal no way to prove or punish his VI
lainy.
Her mother had died !. short Il 40 pre-
' ious TO her fathers death; ;l.t W "a ut
terly alone; even the kind hearted old
lawyer who h I'd attended to her father's
business for years shock hi, head
yravely when the case was made plain
% him.
" am sorry-sorry % he said pity.
ugly +" would give something to |
prove Warren Akers' claim a false one.
,ut, my dear, you will be Obliged to
how this receipt ia full to your father |
or past Gums before you Can rid your
'eif of this designing fellow and be able
% claim your own 1t seems that he |
las been furnishing your father with
arge sums of money with which to |
larry on his business; these sums with
he extortionate interest demanded are |
enormous Edith, l have reason to
believe that your fatherpaid this money,
hat he had settled the entire business |
before his death. but he died so awful. |
y sudden, you know, there might not |
rave been time to arrange his affairs. |
fter all the matter lies In a nutshell !
ind War; n Akers' receipt in full for
I,l money advanced to your father.
/ nd you are safe -
But alas, this was easier said than
lone. The receipt was not forthcoming |
not to be found, and the strictsst
,earch revealed no clew to its hiding
place, If indeed the paper really ex
sted.
For days and weeks the search WAS
Kept up. The secret drawers of the
in the library were turned /
inside out carpets ripped up, books ex-
AHMED even the tiles of the hearth in |
he library were removed every nook /
md corner OF the great brown-stoneI
mansion where John Mnrrill had lived |
md died was carefully searched, but no |
slew to the missing paper.
In the meantime, Edith was tasting |
the bitter fruit OF poverty aud depend ]