The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-06-30

Tim recovered from his speeches. amazement, the train had moved out from the station, and was winding down the first long curve of the level on it's way to Hawley.
 That was how Tim came by his baby. And very pretty baby she was, plump and rosy checked, with long hair and big eyes, and the little under lip all tremulous, as the men crowded around her after the train had gone, and pestered her with questions.
 They could not learn much from her, except that her name was Daisy {; and by and by she began to get frightened at their persistence, and the tears came into her eyes as she grasped Tim's hand more tightly, and refused to answer.
 "Now stop your questions" said Tim, stoutly. "I won't let her be bothered any more. She's mine till her mother comes, anyway, an Pm goin' to take her home with me. Come on, sissy-D Daisy! 1"
 The boy lifted her down from the platform and across the railroad track, burden almost as large as himself; then, taking her hand again, he led her to the humble home of his mother.
 "Well, for the land sake 1" exclaimed that good woman, as the pair entered the house. "Whose baby's that?"
 "Mine," answered Tim.
 "Your'n We'll, want to know Come here, dearie."
 She knelt in front of the little stranger, and kissed her cheek and be- gan to unite her bonnet strings.
 "Where on earth did you get her, Tim?" The boy told the story of the occurrence at the station, and added, "We'll keep her, won't we, ma, till the woman comes for her, anyway"
 "Why, bless her little heart. of course we will! But if that ain't the strangest thing! The woman must ha' been crazy. Whats your name, dearie?"
 "Daisy," answered the child, as the woman lifted her up into her mot her. ly lap.
 "An' was it your ma that come with with you?"
 "Ye'; we toned on e tars, we did.'
 "What's your mas name?"
 "Her name's mamma, and Daisy't names Daisy"
 That was about all the information they could get from her as to hel identity, except that she lived Gin ( date bid house, where e wadons went by all e day"
 But they kept her and cared fol her. She was so sweet and good that they could not choose but love her And then, too, Tim's mother thought of little one, just like her, who lay at rest under the forest beech in tho country church yard. and that was an. other reason for the outpouring of hel motherly affection.
 Tim was very fond and proud oI her. He took her everywhere witt him. He romped and played witt her, and amused her, till she quite for. got her longing for her mother, anG entered heartily into all the nove pleasures of her country life.
 Little by little, as it fell from thu child's lips, her new friends acquired a partial knowledge of her history They knew that she had lived with her father and mother in a large city and in beautiful home. She mad, them to understand that her littl, brother and two sisters had died.
 "Bennie didn't tome to play vii Daisy any mo-" she said: "an' 'er 3ennie he died, he did, an man ht toned, an anover mems 'ey toned, an F Bennie he touldn't talk, an 'ey tarried i'm away in w'ite wadon."
 Afterward she said "An' Emmy an e baby Icy went away in dest < same w'ite wadon lite Bonnie, an 'ey touldn't talk, too; an mamma s'e triec an s'e tried an s'e tried" The April days went by, and sum. mer strode across the land in green. robed luxury; but the summer sun. shine fell upon no happier pair tha, Tim and Daisy. Sometimes they wen together mornings to the station tt see the train come in, and Tim looked at the people through the car win. dows, almost dreading lest the face O , Daisy's mother should appear, and h, should lose his baby.
 Many merry afternoon they spen , together in the fields, gathering tn, ripe, red berries from the grass ant oh l! what wonderful stories Tim tOlt , to Daisy in the summer evenings while she sat with folded hands upol , her lap listening in rapt attention til the stars came out, and till Tim mother laid aside her work to kis , them both goodnight, and tuck then snugly in their beds.
 The Fourth of July that year wal like Sunday at No. 12. There wer, no cars running, except the passenger train, and nearly every body had gon, to South Canaan to the big picnic. I,