Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1888-09-14
JOE'S ORPHAN.

J0E'S ORPHAN.
1t was a night for dreams-a rough, Wild
storm without-and an open fire, table
( covered with books cushioned chair, and
slippers within. At least Joe thought SO.
"What shall | do," he solloquized.
Here | want to have a quiet time dream
ing by my own fire. Cozy. isn't it,
As he said this and looked at the comfort
able furnishings of his room, and then at the
CHEEKY fire, his ear caught the sound of the
wind roaring down the chimney.
How the storm howls." he now declared
stepping to the rich, red curtains that fell
in warm. thick folds to the floor. He tried
to look out.
Bah, it is wintry How the snow is
gathering on the windowledge! 1t looks
like bed of ily-blossoms," thought Joe.
Then he tried to locate the different gas
lamps in the neghborhood, Only feeble
recognition did these sentinels wink back
through the storm at Joe.
Il don't want TO 90 out, l am sure, :"
thought Joe. Must Il Let me read that
note again"
He walked back to the lamp-light, and
taking up note, read:
DEAR JoE-Can't you come down to the
house this evening! That individual will
| be here, the orphan we told you of, and we
sort of want you to know her Are you
| tt,t t1,,.f h.,.l
! time / have planned Il little company, in
Guiding you and this other friend Cthough
she doesn't know it)l Charlie and | call
| our friend Joes Orphan but if you don't
come tonight You shall lose all claim upon
her, a1rl we will be offended. We can't re-
serve orphans so long time and have it
amount to nothing. Now come, Cousin j oe.
| do, or-or-yOu Will miss it.
Aflectionately yours,
COUSIN FANNY.
| p. S.-YOu understand me-"
Eyes, | understand YOU soliloquized
joe '.You would like to get me into
| scrape. 'Joes Orphanr / am not going
| don't want to see her"
Here the old bachelor-he was not very
old only thirty-setted back contentedly
in his chair to enjoy the sound of the wind
blowing all sizes Of trumpcts down the
chimney.
why is it," Cousin Fanny said to her
husband, Charlie Waters, that very evening
at the supper table, "'why is it Joe does not
care more for us females! He is a cynic, a
savage, a stone. and if he does not accept
my invitation | will make him pay for it,"
And why did not Joe Danforth show more
susceptibility! 1t is true he was fastidious
in his tastes, but there was another reason. |
About six years ago he was away on a va |
cation in manufacturing district, and |
spent several weeks near a river that made |
most picturesque valleys as well as turned |
very important millwheels. He was leis-
urely walking along bushy country road |
when he saw young woman step out of "A |
little house that he had not discovered be- |
fore, so leafy was the nest in which it was
hiding On the arm of this young woman |
leaned an old man. She was of medium |
height, her complexion fair and her features |
regular. Her beauty was in her eyes. |
''Such eyes" Joe said to himself at once. |
Certainly no young Iady's eyes had ever
looked so far down into his soul. There
was ccarness to them, a bright, crystal
purity, pcnetrativeness, that made Joe say |
a second time Such eyesw AS to the
color, whether blue, hazel, brown, black
gray or even yellow, Joe could give no ac-
count. Why is il that certain looks from
strangers are so magnetic we remember
them to our dying day-and certainly will
beyond-whereas other glances make as lit
tie impression as the raindrop gliding over
marble tombstone! Joe was in no condition
to reason out the problem. Those eyes
went through him like electricity shocks
one from the battery.
Mercy screamed the young lady, lift
ing her head and looking in the direction of
swift carriage wheels that almost noiseless
ly had turned an abrupt corner fifteen feet
away. Another moment and horse and car
ragc would have come rushing upon the old
man. Joe saw it. One of the charges
brought against him by superficial acquaint
ances was that he was "a fellow of inn
pulses" ''freak7 or ''whim" might seize
him. and off he would go His freaks,
though, were generally in the right dircc-
ton, and it was in reality only his decision
and selfforgetfulness that made him pc
cular. The next moment Joe was spring
ing for the old man. Selling him quickly,
he drew him away from his dangerous po-
sition.
"Oh, thank you, sir!' said the young lady,
| and then came Shock Number Two from the
| battery of those eyes. This time .Joc's soul
| was stirred To its very depths. She turned
| away with her father, when a scream was
| heard:
".Joe! joel"
This came from second carriage that
was passing.
Joe looked up. The carriage had halted.
"If there isn't Cousin Fanny" he said.
She was bcckoning TO him. mwardly re-
solving that he would return and inquire
about the old man-and somebody clsc-he
accepted Fanny's invitation to ride bit"
| She picccd out this ride with another ''bit,"
and when Joe did return to inquire for the
old man at the house nesting IN the woods
he was told that the young lady and her
companion were strangers, only stopping
there for a brief rest, and where they'd gone
no one could say.
"Proyoking!" exclaimed Joe.
He did not give up the search, though.
Returning TO the city, he said to himsclfonc
day:
"Thcrc was that old shoemaker in the
| village whom ! had occasion to see several
times, and it seems to me that one day
saw that young ladys father in his shop.
Now. the shoemaker may know about him,
and will inquire
He sent letter of inquiry about the aged
father whose acquaintance Joe was 80 anx-
ious TO continue. The shoemaker received
the letter by the evening mail, and took it
to his shop to read. His light was poor and
30 were his eyes. He reached the state
mcnt Of Joes wish, aud he began to read
aloud, giving the letter his own pronuncina-
tion:
'Want--to git--holt-of an ovid man