The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1888-01-26

you, sir, for anything. hope ] am
still entitled to think myself q lady. .
Every inch q lady" thought Uncle
Charlie.
"And must therefore thank you
for the kindness you intended
"Poor and proud" thought Uncle
Charlie.
"And bid you good morning.
"Done like queen" thought Uncle
Charlie, as he rose, and found his
watch and money still safe. II have
two requests to make OF you," he
said, ''slnce you will receive nothing
of me-"
II am ready to hear,': she said.
That much, she thought. is due to
your good intentions, If you had them.
and you do not look like q bad man.
Uncle Charlie looked like anything
else. He said:
Zone is that you shall not reprimand
or punish my enigma for bringing me
here"
"Granted."
"The other that you will allow me
to call again."
The lady shook her head.
with my sister this afternoon
The lady considered a moment. 81
am very much embarrassed" she
said, lat this remarkable interview.
But you may call; it will not do to
suspect everybody, though heaven
knows 1have reason enough" Ashade
Of deep sadness came over her face.
"You are certainly very handsome -
thought Uncle Charlie. as he took his
leave, land most interesting. It il
quite a New Years adventure" He
did not feel for his watch and purse
till he was clear Of the court. Still
finding the integrity of his pockets
preserved, he walked briskly away.
full Of curiosity, and determined to
satisfy it, If possible.
1t is an agreeable amusement, as you
walk along the streets, to speculate
npon the inhabitants of the houses,
and to people them with folks of your
own fancying; to imagine who ought
to live in this house, and who in that,
to preserve the unlties. Uncle Charlie
would, no doubt, have INDUCED in
such day dreams il his head had not
been full of the wonderful place he had
just left, wonderful for it's simplicity,
as a fairy bower; with its re-.
markable child, and the
quite, lady-like self-possessed
mother. The tenement had, to a
Philadelphia, nothing noticeable
about it. It was one of those small
houses peculiar to the Quaker City.
with the street door opening directly
into the best room, with very mar
row front and not much depth. But
it was one house, a whole house
though small for one family; such q
tenement as a. widow could have all
to herself at small cost, or q clerk or
other man of modest means might
occupy, and not be forced into a
mixed residence with other people.
And the furniture had evidently
been removed here from q place more
commodious. The piano took up
more than its fair share of one side OF
the room; and other articles said,
as plainly as they could speak, that
they were never purchased for their
present quarters. These things
were not the puzzle of the
place for Uncle Charlie. What did
that child mean by taking him home
with her? And what did the mother
mean by saying that she had no
friends? If ehe had only entertained
HIM with plausible story, he would
have understood at once that the
whole thing was palpabl q trap.
While Uncle Charlie walks and won
ders we will slip on before him to the
house where he would nave been long
before, if the little enigma had not be-
guiled him out OF his way.
SOLVING THE R1DDLE-NEW SURPRISES.
Here, too, were the evidences that
the inmates had seen more cheerful
days. But none of the thousands
who passed the modest mansion,
scrupulously neat, could have
guessed that anything but pros.
perity was within. The we'll.
washed marble steps were kept so by
a compromise with the single woman
of all work. That functionary took
a turn at street sweeping, window
washing and passenger gazing while
her mistress supplied tor o time, her
place within doors. And thus the
house was managed, as many such
are in the "Quaker City,"
1t is paradise for people of limited
income, and for the poor and respect.
able, where by decent fictions in house
keeping, and ]audable hypocrisy, a
good appearance may still be made,
and honest self-respect may be pre-
served. after the wealth which once
made all things easy had slipped
away.
In that house a cheerful voice had
broken everybody's slumber betimes,
with Happy New Yearl Happy
New Year," OF course it was q
child's voice. Children are the last
to learn that it is proper and
sensible to mar our present
by regrets over the past. And it was
a boys voice; for a>little girls, like
our strange friend Edith, will some
times acquire g. prococious and un-
child-like knowledge of the worlds
cares and perplexlties. Girls are more
discerning in many things-more wise,
more prudent, than boys. They are
admitted behind the scenes in the lit
tie drama of domestic acting, in
which the family sweep as though
they wept not" Boys know less than
girls. And so do men than women,
think. But then I am a woman.
Uncle Charlie called this little boy
his mothers "sunshine." 1And so he
was. All children, in some degree. de.
serve the name, but it was little Geor-
dies pre-eminently. God, in His wis.
dom, has made these little ones
angels in the house. They will
see only the bright side. Little
sorrows afflict. them, but their tears
pass over like April showers, and they
will not be defrauded of the happiness
that is left, and are willing to be
pleased still, after allreverses and dis
appointments.
If little Geordie was "sunshine'' to
his uncle, Uncle Charlie was the whole
solar system to his nephew. The boy
lived in his uncle's light. His mother
was dear to him, very dear. But then
mother was with him always, and I'm.
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