Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1889-08-24
THE UMBRELLA MEMBER.


work, and shut up his shop, He then re-
tired into the little inner room, made some
tea, contrived a sandwich, and settled him
self down to an evenings enjoyment with
his books. In few minutes he was lost
in the dear delights of Grotes "Greece,"
for Mr.. Croker was scholar, and looked
such, even when he was repairing umbrel-
las. One might have expected him at any
given minute to put away his work and
deliver a lecture on some obtruse subject
perhaps on the political aspects of the
reign of Thothmes the Third, or on the
potentialities of the Diferential Calculus
One might have expected this in vain,
since Mr.. Croker was as sparing of his
words as most rich people are of their
money. He was short and shriVeled, and
not unlike thin umbrella threadbare,
shabbily-genteel umbrella, with an I'M
compromising handle and long-drawn
piece Of elastic, and an ancient button,
and a well-worn stick which wanted re-
tipping.
Mr. Croker had small face provided
with small, piercing eyes His hair was
brown and scanty. He had habit of
combing back this scanty hair with his
thin hand when he was engaged in con-
templating an invalid umbrella and won
dering whether it was worth new stick,
or new handle, or new frame, or new
silk or alpaca covering.
A piece of paper printed on Mr.. Crock
er's window announced that no customers
were wanted after o'clock, and the
neighbors had learned that it was no
light matter to disturb the umbrella
member when once the shutters of the
little shop had been put up. He was thus
usually enabled to enjoy Grote's "Greece"
without any possible fear of business an
noyances.
But this evening, just as he was finish
ing an account of the battle of Salamis,
there came loud ring at the shop bell.
Mr.. Crocker did not pay the slightest
active attention to this appeal, but there
was no doubt that he was conscious of the
disturbance, for he looked up from his
book, cast a few indignant glances toward
the shop door, and then poured himself
out another cup of tea, and returned to
Grote and Greece. The bell rang again
this time louder and more impatiently.
Mr.. Coriolanus Croker read on quietly
But when the bell pealed third time he
darted into the shop, opened the door hur-
riedly, and said:
81 won't have any customers after 6
o'clock. There's another umbrella member
at the top of the road. Go to him, and if
he won't do your work, go the devil, for
all that care p
81 am inclined to think | have arrived
at the destination you MENTION said the
ringer of the bell. "Allow me, however,
to assure you that | am not a customer,
and have not come to see you about any
thing so uninteresting as umbrellas Prob
ably YOU do not realize that 1t is showing.
i can understand that, for you are standing
out of the snow, and | am standing in the
snow. Thank you, l will step in and tell
you my business"
Mr.. Croker raised the lamp to the
strangers face. He looked about so years
of age, and had the appearance OF being an
unsuccessful artist.
81 don't know you" said Mr.. Crocker,
putting the lamp on the counter. please
to tell me your business and then go, for
my time is precious, and / don't care to
waste it on strangers"
II will be brief" answered the stranger,
taking a ring from his pocket. This is
your sons ring. You recognize it Well,
then, he is dying and wishes to see you be-
fore he says farewell to this world You'll
excuse me, but | think we have not much
time to lose. He was well on the road
when left him."
My son dying" murmured the umbrella
member, as though to himself, land dying
he turns to me. | am glad of that"
81 am ready" he said to the artist. He
took his hat from the peg and passed out
OF the shop together with the stranger.
"You are my sons friend, no doubt
he asked.
NO." replied the other CURLY. 'Tm
low enough, but | have not sunk to that
degradation yet"
'Do you refer to his personal character
or to his fathers profession asked the
umbrella mender, iercely.
81 have nothing against his fathers pro-
fesSion," answered the stranger. For my
part should think it is much better fun
having umbrellas to mend than having no
pictures to paint You get bread and
cheese on the one, but you starve on the
other. Then you die and go to hell and
not a soul cares"
Then there was silence between them,
and the snow fell fast and thick.
81 suppose You loved your son once 2"
the stranger said after a pause
81 have always loved my son." the UNI
brella member answered.
81 wonder he did not turn out better
man, if he had some one to care for him.
That ought to make such difference to a
fellow" said the stranger, somewhat sadly.
"You are hard on the dying" said the
umbrella member
Il hate your son !" muttered the stranger.
81 hate him. He has come between me
and all my chances of success and happi-
ness. And when he is dead l shall have
to go after him, for it was my hand that
struck him down"
Mr.. Croker started back.
"Your hand ~ he cried. "Apd YOU dare
to tell me this p
"Why not ~ said the other, coolIy. 81
don't value my life at brass farthing.
We've got to die, and it really does not
matter much whether we die on the gal
lows or on feather bed. We have only a
few steps TO 90 now. We cross the road
and turn down that narrow street oppo-
site. / beg of you to take my arm, sir; the
roads are slippery and you may fall"
The umbrella-mender shook off the
strangers touch.
Don't touch me- he said, with shud-
der.
Il can understand You are naturally
annoyed with me-" replied the other at
would be too absurd 70 suppose that man
would be friends with a stranger who had
murdered his son. Follow me now
They had arrived at a wretehedly poor
looking house. The door was opened by a
little girl, who skunk away Immediately.
They CROPPED their way up some riekety
stairs and went into darkened room. The
artist struck match and lit candle, and
held it over the bed.
"Your son is still alive he whispered
to the umbrella member 81 am glad we