Iron County register., 1886-04-22

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
| tiful-the thought of him filled her life
with Joy. When she came home in the
long bright summer evenings and saw
dow, watching for her, there were a
gratified before it could be spoken who
would have gladly changed places with
Clara Tingler
| There came an evening when Bertie
watched at the window longer than ever
before for the well-known figure and
| the face that was always raised to his
with 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 Bertie
could not see any face or
| figure. for he could no longer see
| through the thick tears that scorched
| his eyes. At last Nanny Flynn put
| him to bed, wondering almost as much
as himself at the non-appearance of his
mother, but not so much alarmed as
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 Bertie had
cried himself to sleep.
There had been an accident on Broad
| way that day-a stage had been upset.
! and another had collided with it, and the
| horses had become wild and unmanage-
able. When order was restored a slen-
der little woman in black was picked up
| insensble-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
unclosed, and she murmured one word
-"Bertie" Then a gray shadow crept
over her face, and all was over.
| There was nothing found on her by
which she might have been identified
the body was kept for two days. but no
friend claimed it, and she was buried.
A little purse of money, all of small
coins, amounting to a few dollars. was
found sewed within the waist of her
dress. 1t had been carefully-oh, how
carefully and hopefully!-saved for little
Bertie. 1t now paid for the pine coffin
that held all that could die of Bertie's S
mother.
Mrs Tingler's disappearance soon be-
came an old story in the Flynn house
hold, except to the heart that pined for
her. At first. Mrs. Flynn pitied and
comforted the child after her own way
for" she said, she was big boy
now, and it spoiled children TO bring
them up too soft-hearted.
Then she was disgusted with the con-
duct of her late lodger-''For av coorse
she has run away, an left the child on
nv hands. seein' as hadn't enough of
nv own," she said to a neighbor. The
thought made her bad-tempered and
discontented. 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 a rough hug and a
warm kiss to make up for her harsh
ness.
Rut as years passed on her ill-humor
| increased, and her regret for it died
away. Bertie grew weak and sickly
without his mothers watchful care. and
his lameness increased He always
walked with a crutch. now, and there
seemed no likelihood that he would ever
walk without that assistance. He had
grown accustomed to being pushed
out 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 a stone to
the depths of his heart, seemed also to
cut like thrust from 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, trouble to herself an a bother
to livery one else-eh? What are ye for,
anyway"
These were the words that were like
knife-thrusts to Bertie's sensitive heart.
How we'll he could remember his moth.
er's warm kisses. and her tender assur-
ance that he had been sent into the
world to be the JOY of her heart and te
| reward her for every sorrow she had
ever felt. He had been only child,
that he had understood those happy
davs he had known what he was for.
But now, alas. He began to ask the
same hard question of himself-why was
he IN the world! was tnere any rOOHl
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 a lit
tie Irish beauty-great gray eyes, jet
black brows and lashes, name of dark
curly hair and 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 a 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 ettered and unread-for he
hhad never been seat to school-Bertie
Mad Command of language and q
trvor OF imagination that was mar
l9lous.
'SEven the queer sounds in the old
use as he lay awake at nights, fur
n;shed him with material for quaint fam
nios. The poor child was often kept
eusake by pain, and at such times he
~aj glad of any thing that would lift his
.houghts from his sufferings. He had
nae of the natural timidity of his age,
Ia the rumblings and creakings that
saa,,,ed to fill the wall when all else were
49,, sounded like spirit voices to Ber.