Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1885-10-01

never sent US the price Of IA Loaf" said
my mother, bitterly. "Well, take my
wedding ring it has never been of
my finger since your poor, dear father
put it on twenty five years ago but it
must 60 no."
mo, no, mamma, you must not
shall not, take it off, l will go and
take aunt's present, not to sell, but to
the pawnshop then | may perhaps gel
IL back when Walter sends us some
money"
With heavy heart and weary lag
glng steps. departed on my hateful
errand. All our things had been sold,
we had preferred to lose them to going
into that last disgraceful refuge of the
destitute, a London pawnbr0ker's.
Arrived outside I paced to and fro,
until my tottering limbs, weak from
illness and continual fasting, warned
me that my strength would not hold
out much longer.
Ientered. Only one other person,
tall, dark gentleman, whose face l
could not see in the semi -darknss, stood
there talking TO the shopman.
~ tell you, my man, the plate is
here. 1t has been traced by clever
detective, who will join me here IN q
few minutes. He is only delaying be-
cause he thinks he has traced the thief,
and has gone to follow up the search. "
swell. sir, L am sure you are mista-
ken, but my principal will be here in q
few moments, you must talk to him.
What can I do for you, young wo-
man p' he asked, turning to me some
what eagerly, evidently glad of an ex-
cuse to eyade his unpleasant VISITORS
conversation.
Unable to speak, I drew forth my
treasure. The shopkeeper looked sus
piciously at me as he took it up and
tested It.
"Your name and address, please, "
he said, sharply. "And how much do
you want ?"
ST want IA little money, il you
please" faltered.
AS spoke the gentleman turned and
I could Feel pair of bright. keen eyes
scanning my pale face. grew more
helplessly confused, my tongue refused
to utter word.
'Tell the shopman how much you
want, and your name, nv good GIRL"
he said in kind and pitying tone.
Then, for the first time, I raised my
eyes to his face, feeling that 1 had
found friend. Merciful Heaven! was
L dreaming. or had my late troubles
driven reason from my brain, and fill
ed it with delusive fancies.
Surely there stood the original Of
Aunt. Betsy's portrait, but young and
stalwart as he had been forty years ago,
when it was taken.
In vain / tried. to speak. I could
only point helplessly to the portrait !;
the shop with its occupants and its
contents swan around me, and with a
cry for help, l sank fainting to the
ground.
When next awoke to consciousness,
I was lying on an improvised bed on
an old couch in our sitting-room at
home. I moved my head, it felt weak
and sore. Then I tried to lift my
hands, but to my surprise I was power
less to do so. A woman, plainly dress
ed, with kind motherly face, was Sit
ting near me. and rose as I moved.
looked around bewildered.
"Mammal 10 called feebly.
"Hush, hush, my dear MISS" said
the kind-looking woman, Soothingly.
"You must not speak your mamma
is asleep and you might wake her,"
SO lay still, wondering weakly who
she was and who had sent her there !;
but presently, seeing her stir the fire
into blaze, forgot her caution, as
all my old anxieties came back, and 1
said pleadingly
Don't poke the fire, plsase. 1t will
burn out to quickly, and we haye no
more Goals"
"Oh, now, miss, you have been
dreaming. The cellar is nearly full,
the Goals only came in last week."
Again I essayed to answer, but was
so gently, yet with such authority or.
dered to be quiet. that / was glad to o.
bey, SO lay still enjoying the sensa-
tion of being not able to think. In a
day or two I grew stronger, and one
morning, to my delight, my mother
came in, and had leave given me to
talk little.
Then I heard all about my late ad.
venture.
"It was really most wonderful O.
vent, my dear, and reads like chapter
out of a three-yolume novel;" said my
mother, who by the way, looked quite
bright and strong again. "When you
fell down in a faint, you let fall the en-