The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1886-04-29

she no longer wept in the night or
walked up from dreams of terror, calling
for the husband, whose ear was stopped
with dust, and then clutching her child
to her heart to still its aching. Then
BERTHE was growing so strong and beau
tiful-the thought of him filled her life
with joy When she came home in the
long bright summer evenings. and saw
his sweet face pressed againt the win
dow, watching for her. there were a
thousand rich women with every wish
gratified before it could be spoken who
would have gladly changed places with
Clara Tingler.
There came an evening when BERTHE
watched at the window longer than ever
! before for the well-known figure and
the face that was always, raised to his
with a smile. But the sunset glow died
away and the twilight drew on and
brought the night. The lamps were
lighted in the streets and the stars gilt
tered in the sky above, and BERTHE
could not see any face or
/ figure, for he could no longer see
| through the thick tears that sc0rched
his ewes. At last Nanny Flynn put
him to bed, wondering almost as much
as himself at the nOn-appearanceo OF his
mother, but not so much alarmed rs
surprised. She cOmfOrted the child with
the assurance that mamma would be
there when he walked up" and with
that hope in his heart little BERTHE had
cried himself to sleep.
There had been an accident on Broad
ygav that dav-a stage had been upset,
and another had collided with il, and the
horses had become wild and unmanage-
able. When order was restored a slen-
der little woman in black was picked up
insensible-a blow on the temple had
done it-and carried to the nearest hos
pital. She never recovered conscious
ness, though for a moment her eyes had
Enclosed. and she murmUred one word
-''Dertie." Then a gray shadow crept
over her face, and all was over.
There was nothing found on her by
which she might have been idehtifieG-
the body was kept for two days. but no
friend claimed it. and she was buried.
4 little purse of money. all OF small
coins, amounting to Il few dollars. was
found sewed within the waist Of her
dress. 1t had been carefuily-oh. how
carefully and hopefully!-savod for little
BERTHE It now paid for the pine coffin
that held all that could die of Berries
mother.
Mrs. Triggers disappearance soon be-
came IN old story in the Flynn house
hold, except to the heart that pinned for
her. At first, Mrs. Flynn pitied and
comfortcd the child after her own way
for" she said. '.he was a big boy
now, and it spoiled children to bring
them up too soft-hearted.
Then she was Disguised with the con-
duet of her late lodger-''For av c0orse
she has run away, an left the child on
my hands, SEEM as hadn't enough of
my Own,' she said to neighbor. The
thought made her bad-tempered and
disconnected. and at odd moments she
vented her ill-humOr on BERTHE. But to
do her Justice, such occasions were rare,
and being remorseful afterward she of
ten gave the child rough hug and Il
warm kiss to make up for her harsh
ness.
Rut as years passed on her ill-humOr
increased, and her regret for it died
without his mothers watchful care, and
his lameness. increased. He always
walked with crutch, now, and there
seemed no likelihood that he would ever
walk without that assistance. He had
grown accustomed to being pushed
ont of the way, and to being told that
he had no right to the little he
ate and drank-and to much
more that, while it sunk like stone to
the depths of his heart, seemed also to
cut like thrust from q knife. But
there was one hard speech that cut him
more than all else. He heard it often
both from Nanny Flynn and from the
boys, who had grown up to be a care
and worry to their mother, and the
chief cause of her growing discomfort
and bad temper.
''What are You for, anyway sickly
cripple, q trouble to herself an bother
to livery one else-eh? What are We fer,
anyway"
These were the words that were like
knife-thrusts to Bertie's sensitive heart.
How we'll he could remember his moth
cr' s warm kisses, and her tender assur-
ance that he had been sent into the
world to be the JOY of her heart and to
reward her for every sorrow she had
ever felt He had been only a child,
that he had understOod-in those happy
days he had known what he was for.
But now, alas! He began to ask the
same hard question of himself-why was
ne in the world? Was there any room
for him? What was there for him to
do? In brief, as Nanny Flynn. and
Dan and Patsy so often said, what was
he for, anyway?
One member OF the family never asked
that question. 1t was little Conn-MrS.
Flynn's grandchild. The boy was lit
tie Irish beauty-great gray eyes, Jet
black brows and lashcs, name of dark
curly hair and a skin of cream-big,
strong and hearty. BERTHE loved him
with devouring affection; he was almost
Jealous OF the child's own mother.
Though vet child in years, sorrow and
suffering had matured his mind: and in
that fine, healthy child he saw all the
possibilities forever shut out of his own
life. He played with Conn by the hour
together, sung him to sleep at night and
told him marvels of fairy lore. But,
though uni .ttered and unread-for he
had never been sent to school-Bertie
had a command of language and a
fervor o. imagination that was mar
Vicious.
Even the queer sounds in the old
house, as he lay awake at nights, fur
nished him with material for quaint fam
cies. The poor child was often kept
awake by pain, and at such times he
was glad of any thing that would lift his
thoughts from his sufferings He had