Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-01-28
CHAPTER III.
AN UNWILLING GUEST.


 Philip thought things were going littlt % far, and as he walked along with his un, desirable host he began to plan escapes.
 Up on the hill to his left he could see, nov md then, between the houses, his own hom. md the lights in its window streaming wei ,ome to him. The tense mood relaxed ii lin, old habits of thought and association made themselves, felt again; the poor mal walking heavily by his side seemed thou. and miles removed from him.
 "Here we are," said Graves, as he led tho mill owners son up couple of rickety look. ing steps to a doorway. Philip was no; pleased at all; he had seen enough poverty tonight; he did not care to particularize What was the use of distressing himself ovei ahis mans private miseries and discomforts Wasn't it written in all the books of political economy that-but Graves opened the looi md waited for his unwilling guest to go i. before him. The poor mans heart was warn ,n the unwonted exercise of hospitality.
 With an ungracious frown on his fac, Philip entered the dimly lighted room, hi. sreat boots sounding with startling effect or ahe bare floor. The top heavy kerosene lamE was turned down, but with the heartiness oi true host, Graves turned up the lamp so that Philip could look about m. There was little enough to see-a round pine table with little blue, cracked crokery on it, rusty cooking stove, two or three dingy, unpainted chairs, high backed rocking chair, with 8 iaded, shapeless chintz cushion, and what seemed to be sofa in one corner.
 At first Philip thought the room had beer lnoccupied, but as Graves turned up the lamp trife more he saw it was a woman lying upon the sofa-a woman with sunken black eyes and wan, colorless cheeks, whose m Town over her shoulders.
 "The woman is sick, or she'd get up and peak to you," said Graves, with a new gen 5leness ill his voice, as he looked at the wife of his youth. ''They say she might get well if we could pay doctors bills Eh, Jennie?'
 The girl who stood in the doorway had her mothers eyes, not quite large enough, but with rare sheen in them; it might be her mothers face, too, but with the bloom of perfect health Tightening up its olive. Involuntarily he rose to his feet and bowed, but as the girl only seemed to regard lim as one might look at circus tumbler, Philip relapsed into his seat, in the humilia- ion beauty can put upon the greatest of us. "Nothin' but cold potatoesa We'll, guess -heyll do with a little salt and piece of bread"
 Did Curran speals7" asked the girl.
 "Yes," answered Philip. "And who is he "a common laborer7" Then he bit his lip. But nobody took offense, no one suspected their guest of being anything above a com mon laborer.
 "Only laborer," answered Graves, 'ta weaver, but he's got some book knowledge somehow. There aint many can beat him at talkin', is theref'
 The girls eyes were on Philip now, impa- tient, as he fancied, even for his poor tribute to her lovers praise.
 "He is wonderful" he assented, 'but what don't understand is, that he can be such a man and still a weaver. Where did he learn it allr'
 'Have you got enough to eata We'll, knowledge has got pretty well through all classes now, for those as wants it. It's there for all who have eyes or ears for it. Why, friend, where have you been all your lifel Brains and hearts don't go by station. I've found smarter men in shops and mills than most we send to congress. There's thousands like Curran, if they only got the stirrin' he's had somo way. Now, Jane, it's about time you got this mans bed ready" Philips heart jumped. Of course he couldn't stay, but what excuse could he give for coming at all, thens
 s'Be you lool1in' for joba' asked Graves, after. his daughter had left them. It occurred to Philip that he had one, if he wanted tito put one spark of happiness into such lives as these, but he nodded. The man looked him over rather disparagingly. "Well, wash yourself up and black your | boots a bit, and guess can do somethin' 1 for you in the mill. It's hard work and small pay, but we never had better, you and l me. We don't well know what we miss bein' poor, we miss it such big ways"
 "How long has Curran lived here2" asked Philip incoherently. The man stared at him 1 a moment.
 "Oh! Curran, he aint been here more'n @ six mouth. He aint got no folks; he livee down to one of them factory boardin' houses, but don't have no friends or talk about any. thin but what you beard tonight. But it's all usdesa" Graves lookEd gloumily on the floor. i've aint got DO show; the rich are too many for ua guess it's human natuyr for uue man to boss 6he uuwd CT 1t wr,gklpA O always 1em ta. Thue'a the gfA sb4l a1gw you Ehasu saxs. esoe1WY