The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1890-12-05
The Widows Ledger.

She waited some time, expecting the
bell to ring, but it die not, and she went
upstairs again. This time she knocked
loudly enough to be heard, and the we'll
known voice growled out, "Come in.n
Mary entered very timidly, and the
old gentleman did not look up. He
could not put on his s%pectacles, for the
child was playing with them.
Don't you Think he said, in the
same growl. suppressed for the child's
sake, 'syou shameless baggage, that you
ought to be thoroughly ashamed of
yourself, proving round the square
with a maj smoking pipe, and leav-
ing this dear little fellow here? You
will find your boxes at the door in half
an-hour, if l have any authority in the
house."
He might have said more, if Master
Artie had not dashed the hideous blue
spectacles or the table with a force that
broke them, and uttered a glad cry of
Mamma" Perceiving his mistake,
the old gentleman rose with a very
grave and kindly bow. He vas taken
off his guard, and the accident to his
spectacles had vexed him, but he re-
tanned his self-possession.
II beg your pardon" he said, 81
thought it was the servant. She left
this little fellow here alone upstairs,
and he had a sad tumble on the floor,
but he is not hurt. How is it, Mrs. Al
lenby, l was allowed to think you had
no childrenw
mot by my wish, SIR" said Mary,
feeling wonderfully at home with him.
Il wanted Mr.. Joyce to tell you.
well, well, it does not matter; you
see we are quite friends; you need
not take him away for a minute or two.
Take a seat, please, since you are here;
the boy and I do not want the banquet
all to ourselves. Give me those glasses,
Master What's-your-name, or you will
cut your fingers
81 am SO sorry he has broken them"
said Mary, sitting down; 'he has been
very troublesome, / am afraid, and you
have such an aversion to children.
Some children, my dear madam.
Joyce should have told you that. de-
test them as a rule. They detest me,
as a rule. Do you know this little fell
low is the first one, almost, who did not
shrek out with fright at the sight of
me?"
HE does not take to strangers gener-
ally"
"Follows his instincts perhaps, as l
do. What did you say his name was?"
Arthur Michael"
AFTER his father, I s%uppose?n
"And his uncle-his fathers uncle, I
should say,-my husband was very fond
Of him.
Drink some wine, please, and take
some preserved ginger; it's very good.
Let me see. Observation-Disclosures
surely cannot mean old Mike Allenby,
of Barbados, q cross-grained, disagree
able old brute, a nuisance to himself,
and a bore to everybody about him.
"Sir," said Mary, taking up her baby
with tears of Indignation in her eyes.
II do mean Mr.. Michael Allenby, of
Barbados, and you are telling wicked
stories of one whom next to me my
husband loved before anyone in the
world-a noble, just, and generous man,
who did good for its own sake, and
countless grateful hearts have to thank
him for his thoughtful kindness, though
they never knew him by sight or name.''
II beg your pardon" he said, rising
to detain her. pray do not go. Peo-
pie take different impressions, you
know, and that was mine of him. l
have no reason to complain of him; he
was the best friend / ever had-I can
say that without reservation; but must
say that he was intensely disagreeable
to me at times. Pray sit down again,
and give me the baby; l want to look at
him again, since he is named after old
Mike. We were the best of friends, my
dear; people said we were a good deal
like each other-hardly a compliment to
either of us. I wonder, Master Arthur,
what you would think of old Mike"
The baby huggedh him roundthe neck,
patted his face and crowed, and finish
ed this little ebullition of feeling by try
ing to fill his mouth with ginger.
"Thank you. Highly gratifying, no
doubt. I hardly know what old Mike
would think of that. How old are you,
Mrs. Allenby?"
"Twenty-three."
$50 young and pretty, he said, almost
w AIlllioClA. 4tllly WOlluC1, pOOl
childI' and he smoothed the baby's
curly head. "Do you know, my dear,
it is strange? 1 often heard old Mike
speak of your husband, but never of
you. Did he know Arthur was mar
ried?n
"No, sir. Poor fellowl he was writ
ing to him when he died. I have the
letter still-untnished."
THE letter still-unfinished. Heaven
bless my!" and the old gentleman trem-
bled with some strange emotion. why,
he may have wanted something done
that could do. AS old Mixes friend,
my dear, is it too much to ask you to
let me see that letter. l am an old
man, my dear, not quite a stranger, and
l wish it very much"
He asked this SO eagerly, earnestly,
and sadly too, that Mary looked at him
in surprise.
Scarcely" she said, s'as Uncle
Michael's friend, Mr.. Barker. Yes,
you shall see it. Do you ever corre-
spond with Uncle Michaelf'
Now and then, and he would be
pleased to know of this. He often used
to wonder why his boy did not write.
He always spoke of your husband as
his boy. Bring it, please"
Mary went to her bedroom and took
the letter from the old-fashioned desk,
where it rested with other relics sacred
to the dead. When she returned Mr..
Barker had the baby folded closely in
his arms, and looked as if he had been
crying.
Are you in pain, sirpo she asked.
"A twinge," he said, huskily, and
looking at his foot in its huge, unshape-
" slipper. Catches me now and then;
but do not mind me-"
He put the baby in the chair again,
propped up carefully as before, and
took the letter from Mary. He evident
ly did not depend upon the blue specta-
cles entirely, for he took a pair of hand
some gold-rimmed glasses from his
waistcoat pocket; but he did not seem
to see clearly even with them.
is not the writing dullp" he said.
"Or is it my eyesight?"
1.-THE writing, sir, I think. Poor Ar
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