The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1889-07-06

world and the double duty OF the printing
Office and the kitchen fell upon the girls
shoulders. Her father had come to make
| his days much like hers, when he was not
employed-sleep nearly all day, and alas!
be down town all night Now he sat by the
kitchen stove lazily blinking at the morning
Calliope which had long ago arrived.
'Madge, did you see this about me!'' he
suddenly exclaimed.
'What father!"
"About my being discharged and that
worthless Joe Harris taking my places'
Eyes. l saw it, was the meek RESPONSE
"Why didn't you keep it out then! l
| don't see why the editor should attack me
| that way"
II couldn't keep it out, father What do
| you suppose l have to do with things tASt
go into the paper!"
80, you don't care. You're like that
worthless brother of yours; if you were
| boy, you'd desert me like him-that's all
you care about your father
| He was in a grumbling mood to-day and
| did not spare the patient slave who served
him. She would not allow, however, the
allusion to the boy who, four years ago had
gone forth with a mothers blessing, to seek
an honorable livelihood
What has Will dones' she asked, holly.
''To be sure, he has never come back, but
he has sent you money and will some day
come to US. But never mind, dinner is
ready" z.s A.
| She saw that he was waited on and then
went to the window. Far down in the town
she could see the people throngng church
ward for the special Easter services had
been widely advertised and the churches
would he crowded. The sky was covered
with a gray, misty cloud that was drifting
swiftly TO the southwark. She listened to
the gusts Of wind that shook the building,
and she thought Of the blizzard that the dis
patch had said was coming.
| I'm goin' down town, Madge," said her
| father as he rises from the table.
Stay with me- she pleads, but slam of
the door is all the answer she receives.
1t was a long and dreary Easter The
biting north wind grew fierccr and wilder.
| At three O'Clock the snow commenced fall
ing. Notin large, feathery flakes as in we'll
regulated Eastern skies, but in tiny, icy par
ticles, that pierced the skin of the tr$eler
exposed to them. The storm howled on, and
| by five, when Madge saw her father come
unsteadiy around the corner of the house,
| on his way home from a favorite Longing
place where he had spent the day, the snow
was binding and the cold had ALMOST CON
quered the feeble efforts of the kitchen
| stove.
''Well, air We goin' to the office?' asked
Haven, in a somewhat liquor-weakened
voice.
mo; there is no paper on Monday morn
ing. you know" replied the compositor.
That's so, forgot about it, It's mighty
cold here: what's the mattcr!''
THE coal is nearly gone. Didn't you get
some yestcrday.n
Didn't have no money, an now I'm out
of a job, can't get none. What'll we do,
| Madge!"
IN have my months wages soon, and
then it'll be all right
Il heard somethin' ter-day''
| "What was it, father"
''That Horris told on me, so as to get my
job. Said to the compny that was good
for-nothin an got me discharged. I'll get
even with him, doggon his doggoned picter,"
and the man clenched his hands angrily.
Suddenly his face lighted up with a strange
expression HE comes back tonight from
the Gulch, doesn't hel'' he blurted out, and
then went to the door. The wind was still
fiercer and the air was fairly black with
snow. The thermometer had been register
| ing below :s1ro for two hours, and now was
drawing near to the twenty degree mark.
| No church bells could be heard; indeed that
Easter Sunday is to this day remembered
as one upon which no evening services were
held, on account of the terrible storm. Up
| from the stream to which the steep banks,
| separated from the house by the narrow
wagon road led, came the roar of the waters
as they dashed eastward, as if getting
good Roadway for their long, sluggish jour
ncy across the plains to the sea.
! I'm fix him, the girl heard him mutter
| in his half frenzy, and then taking
a lantern from the closet he went with it
| out into the night.
what can he be DOING" she thought, and
waited with GREATNESS anxiety for his re-
turn. 1t was long time, but when he came
it was without the light and with buster
| ing and blowing that told he had been facing
| the storm.
where is the lantern, father!" she in
quired.
1T went out. and had to drop it, to hang
on to myself" he replied with a leer.
Sheis not satisfied, but can get no other an
swer; and, asthe tireis dying and the bitter
cold is creeping over her flesh, she goes to the
single -l-stairs room of the swayng cabin,
where she prepares TO sleep. Before doing
So she peers through the curtainless win
| doWs. she can see nothing, but she can
feel the dust.like snow sift against her face
| as it is driven through some crevice in the
wall All is black outside. Just as she is
turning away, however, she thinks she secs
a twinkle of light toward the river. She
looks again. Yes, surely it is there. Can a
traveller be abroad in such a tempest!
Surely not, for the light remains still. She
puzzles over it moment and thena thought
comes to her that makes her tremble.
1t is the lantern which her father has
hung out-why! There can be but one an
swer-to misguide his rival, who must force
his way through the storm tonight and
bring through the mail and stage from the
Gulch. The light will cause him to turn to
the right and throw stage driver and horses
over the bank, and send them rolling to a
death plunge in the ice filled river below.
"In his drunken fury he is not himself,'
she thinks, in excuse of the deed, and deter
mines to undo the crime which was about
to be committed.
Hastily wrapping cloak around her
shivering form, she creeps back to the lower
room. Her father is sitting before the
stove, apparently brooding over his coming
revenge. As noiselessly as possible she
opens the outer door; and though the man
turns and sees her slipping through, she has
vanished into the blackness of the storm be-
fore he can call to her.
| In an instant he recognizes her errand .