The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-03-27
ne else whom I can ask-win protect

that it is impossible, Mrs. Kent!"
/ mot impossiblel L do not ask you to
| give her home or money. Only care. Ii
| you Will be her guardian-her friend"
She was a woman dying in sore straits.
! He was merciful man. In the end he
promised to do what she wished. Then
he hastened to escape her gratitude, un-
| conscious, as he passed down the stairs,
OF the whispering and giggling, the slat-
ternliness and dirt which had been so
/ dreadful to him on his entrance.
He walked along Oxford-st. in a reverie.
"Poor thingp falling from him at inter-
walls, until he reached the corner of Tot
tenham court road, and his eye rested
upon boarding-at the first idly, then
with purpose, finally with timid side
long glance. The advertisement which
| had caught his attention was coarse en-
craving of half dozen heads, arranged In
a circle, with one in the center. Under
this last, which was larger and more star
| ing and less to be evaded than the others,
/ appeared the words, Miss Kate Latouche." +"
! He went on with a shiver, crossing here
and there to avoid the hoardings, but only
TO fall in with a string of sandwich men
/ bearing the same device, and TO plunge
into the haven of Soho as If he were po-
| htical cOnspirator.
The portrait and the name OF his ward J
In few days he would be left in charge
of an actress whose name was known to
all LOndon-guardan, in loco PARENTS,
what you will, OF the closest and most re-
] sponsible, to a giddy girl OF unknown an
tecedents, and too-well known name
| He wondered whether an archdeacon
| had ever been in such a position before, a
/ position which it would be hard TO ac-
| knowledge and impossible TO explain. He
| could talk of his old friendship for her
mother, the actress, and his duty to dying
I woman. But would the world believe him ?
! Would even his wife believe him? Would
not she read much between the lines,
| though the space might be as white as
snow? He, man of over fifty, grew red
and white by turns as he thought of this.
! IL will tell it ell to Jack" was his first re-
solve. 81 will tel. him at dinner tonight"
| he groaned. But would he have the cour-
! age? He had a secret respect for his sons
practical nature. He had heard him
| called ''as hard as nails" And when he
found himself opposite to him and eyed
the cool, close-shaven young lawyer, who
| looked decade older than his years, he
resorted TO a subterfuge.
"Jack," he said, Il want your opinion
| for friend of mine."
''It is at your service, sir" said his son,
his hand upon the apricots. "What is the
| subject? Law?"
Not precisely" replied the arcbdeacon,
| clearing his throat. 'It is rather ques-
ton OF knowledge of the world You
know, my boy" he went on, ''that 1 have
very high opinion of your discretion"
you are very good, said Jack. And
he did that which was unusual with him.
| He blushed, but the other did not OBJ
serve it.
"My friend, who, may say, is clergy
man in my archdeacOnry." resumed the
elder gentleman, "has been appointed
guardian-it is a ridiculous thing for a
man in his pOSition-tO IA young actress.
She IS quite girl, understand, but OF
some nOtOriety already"
Indeed" said Jack, drily. "Mav / ask
how that came about? Wards of that
kind do not fall from heaven-as a rule"
The archdeacon WINGED. "He tells me, +"
| he explained, "that her mother was an
| old friend of his and when she died, some
time back, she left the girl as kind of
legacy, you see"
"A legacy to him, sir ?"
''To him, certainly. You follow me ?"
said the elder man in some distress.
"Quite so, said Jack. "Oh. quite so !!
A common thing no doubt. Did you say
that your friend was married man, sir p"
YES" replied the archdeacon family.
Gust so! just so!" his son said. in the
same tone, tone that was so dreadful to
the archdeacon that it needed Jacks ques-
ton: "And what is the point upon which
he wants advice?" to induce him to
go on.
"What he had better 90, being clergy
man."
ale should have thought of that earlier
-ahem!-I mean it depends a good deal
on the young lady. There are actresses
and actresses, you know"
al suppose so, the archdeacon admitted
grudgingly. He was in mood to see the
darkest side of his difficulty.
"Of course there are! said Jack, for
| him quite warmly. And indeed that is
the worst OF barristers. They will argue
in season and out of season, if you do not
agree with them quickly. 'Some are as
good-as good girls as my mother when
you married her. sir"
"Well, well, she may be good girl. I
do not know" the elder man allowed.
"You always had rather a prejudice
| against the stage, sir.
The archdeacon looked up sharply,
thinking this uncalled for; unless, horri-
| BILE thought! his son knew something of
the matter and was chatting him. He
made an effort to get on frmer ground.
Granted she is a good girl" he said.
''there are still two difficulties Her
father is a rascal, and there is a man,
probably rascal, too. hanging about her
and likely to give trouble in another
way"
Jack nodded and sagely pondered over
the position. Il think | should advise
your friend to get some erespectable woman
to live with the girl" he suggested, "and
play the duenna, first getting rid of your
second rascal"
But how will you do that? And what
would YOU do about the father?"
"Buy him ofiP' said Jack curtly. "As
to the lover, have an interview with him.
Say to him, DO you wish to marry my
ward? ii you do, who are you? If you
do not. go about your business"
"But if he will not 60" said the arch
deacon, "what can my friend do?'
''Well, indeed" replied Jack, looking
rather nonplussed, 81 hardly know, unless
you make her a ward of court. You see,"
he added apologeticaly, "your friends
position is a little-shall l say little
anomalous"
The archdeacon shuddered. He dropped
his napkin and picked it up again, to
hide his dismay, and plunged into fresh
subject. When his son upon some excuse
left him early, he was glad to be alone.
He had now, however, a course laid down
for him and acting uDon IL he naxt dav