The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1888-03-08

you"-(Gladys losses her heaO-f'you
missed the baby and tried to make your
self think you had neglected him-went
to bed very tired-and your nightmare
was the inevitable consequence. Seer"
ssNo, l don't see," stubbOrnly says
Gladys cit was not dream, it was a
vision. I saw him-saw my baby, John!
And 1 am going straight back to him as
fast as my feet can carry me?'
81 think you had not better try to walk
it, says John. eff you Will wait till the
boat gets in I will pay your fare back on
the fast train. But perhaps you will
change your mind by morning."
Deluded man! He can no more keep his
Gladys from flying to her baby than he
can drain off Long Island sound; and with
many protests he seats her in the parlor
car. gives her new book and basket Of
fruit, tips the porter-whO thereafter
hovers about Gladys, becoming quite
nuisance with his benefcent attentions
and finally leaves her, for business is bust
ness, and John cannot return with his
pretty little wife, much as he would like to.
How slowly pass the hOurs How the
train drags and delays! Gladys hears one
gentleman say cOmplacently to another:
''There is but one faster train than this in
the wOrld!'' and feels like answering him
wildly: ''That is a falsehoOd-there are
none slOwer" When her patience is quite
exhausted and she feels that an hysterical
burst of tears is imminent the cars roll
slowly into the depot, and she bounds
from her seat, dropping her novel and
tossing back her soft curls, which have
escaped from their fastenings even as she
now escapes from her prison car.
She foots it ever fair and young;
Her locks are tied in haste,
And one is Ger her shoulder flung
And hangs below her waist
Little cares she for discarded litera-
ture or disheveled tresses. She takes the
first carriage she sees, and tells the driver
impatiently to hurry. But he is evidently
in league with the railroad, for time lags
and eternity has commemorate seems to
Gladys-before she reaches home.
She opens the door with her latch key,
and stands breathlessly. No COO and gurgle
of baby talk, no laughter no sound of
lullaby, not even what would be welcome
now, a child's scream of anguish. Any
thing, anything but this dreadful, intense
stiffness.
She dares not advance. Still standing
as if paralyzed, she does hear a sound. 1t
is a step, and Johns sister comes tripping
toward her.
''Why, GladysP' she says in utter
establishment. Chow came you back so
soon, and where is John, and why didn't
Tell me-" murmurs Gladys, chow is
the baby?''
90, he's well. He's asleep now.'
''Did he not get burned?'' she falters.
''Why, yes" after a surprised pause.
''He pulled my cup of tea over, and
scalded his arm slightly He cried for
you a few minutes, but mother came
right over and bandaged it with hamame-
lis, and now it is only Redeemed trifie. -
They have been moving toward the
nursery while speaking, and now stand
by the side of the fiOwerlike child.
But how did you know about the acct
dent?'' asks the young lady.
Gladys bows herself over the dainty
crib; lighter than a snowflake falls, she
takes the sleeping child into her tender
arms; his even breath stirs her hair; her
kisses like dew fall softly, softly upon his
silken head as she answers briefly: 81
dreamed it,
''Weu," contemptuously remarks
Johns sister, 81 don't think such dream
as that is worth having. Eleanor w. T.
Bates in The American Magazine.