Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1886-03-11
wasn't rich enough to take us and 90

wasn't rich enough to take us and 90
travelling. So at last he rented two lit
tie rooms, and put us in care of the
Huffstodts (we'd lived in Jersey City
before that, but he knew about them,
and thought he'd like to have us with
such good folks,) and put some money
in the bank for us, and started with an
expedition to South America-some
thing or other sent out by the govern.
ment, and he was going to engrave the
pictures of their reports, you see. AT.
ter he had been gone awhile the Huff
stodts moved to where we are now and
the monsy began to get low in the bank,
and there didn't any more letters come
from papa; but that didn't surprise us,
because we knew he was going away
into the wilderness where there weren't
any postoflices. But one day Mr..
Huffstodt brought in paper to Cecil
and me. and said 'You poor child
rem, what will you dop' And there was
the notice of papa's death,-J. G.
Smith, of that very expedition, and
then we knew why we didn't get the
letters any more"
He stopped, with a choke in his
voice, while the two Celias wept to-
gether.
$50 far from home oh! my poor,
poor James," murmured the elder,
clasping her namesake closer; "and
what did you do then, poor babies?"
"Oh, the Huffstodts were very kind;
and after while he got me this place
as messenger-boy, so that can pay for
things myself; and we're very comfort
able"
"How long since you saw-that no.
tice, dear?"
about six months, and he was gone
nearly year before that.
They sat very quiet then. and the fire
burned lower, till only mass of Goals
glowed beneath the tiles, when quick
ring at the door bell startled them all.
An instant later the ubiquitous John
"a very Interrogation point from head
to foot--stood in the entrance.
miss Smith, there's two men here,
and one says he would like to see his
children if"
His childrenr' shrieked Jamie and
Celia, in chorus. james ~ sobbed
Miss Smith, while all three rushed into
the hall.
vi Vic HCAb lew llilhultS uOl GNCh du
instantaneous photographer could have
done justice to the scene-the crazy
children clingng to their father, the
woman, with clasped hands and wild,
questioning eyes, standing in the back
ground,-till the words from Jamie,
20 papa! it is Miss Smith, your
cousin, caused the newcomer to
bound forward with a cry of Cecilia!
Ny Celia" and Ito the horror of john
clasp his virgin mistress in an ardent
embrace.
But even my poor description is not
so confused as the little group which
unanimously entered the library then
laughing, talking, crying, explain
ing, and protesting with running fire
of "Glorys!' from John and "Yahs!'
and "Pless my soulsr' from Mr.. Huff
stodt, who had led the father hither.
When something like quiet was re-
stored the matter became simple
enough, however. Mr.. Smith had writ
ten whenever possible, but failing, in
that region, to receive the children S
letter giving their change of address,
his missives had, of course, been misdi-
rected and unanswered, until, becoming
thoroughly alarmed at last, he had
thrown up his situation and started for
home, much delayed on the journey by
storms and an accident to the steamer
machinery.
Upon arriving in the city he had
found the Huffstods by means of the
directory, only to learn that his chill
dren had been summoned in a very
strange and sudden way to No. - on
the avenue. AS the Huffstodts were al
ready growing alarmed at their pro-
longed absence, the kind young Ger
man had gladly fastened with him to
their rescue-''only to find you, Celia,
whom | never expected to see again!"
He turned and clasped both her hands
while they stood-heart searching heart
in the glow of the dying fire.
The room, the inmates, were forgot
ten, and each saw pretty lawn, shaded
by great oak tree, and two figures
one youth, walking slowly away, while
the other, a slender girl, with point
ing hand and blazing eyes, said sternly,
"Go!"
Did that youth-the bearded traveller
of to-day read the same fiat in those eyes
which now met his, or did their tears,
their softness, their wistful pleading bid
him "Stayp"
A childish voice broke the eloquent
silence, and bridged the gulf of eighteen
years:
"But, Papa, who was the j. q. Smith
that did dieP"
"Oh, the lover was father once
again, though his voice had caught q
new, exultant tone as he answered.
she was our photographer. His first
name was Jasper, and he died of swamp
fever, poor fellow! Celia, are you glad
it wasn't ?"