Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-07-22

GNOWg A11b7A 0 AbbAC 1OUkoIs I0e- ently-presently," he repeated sadly, for the word had to him the sorrow which belongs to the last time, "you will go in next door and tell this story to Mrs. Cheexe, and then stay to see what she thinks of it. But don't want you to forget single word of it so now tell it to me, just as if I were Mrs. Dorcas herself. Now, then, for the re- hearsal."
 No question passed the boys lips. The mans deep, quiet earnestness was infectious, and Jet (his head bent in the firelight, and his thin fingers tight upon the locket) spoke with his gentle, old fashioned gravity.
 "I shall go in and show this to Mrs. Cheere, and shall say that there was once a little girl who was stolen from her home in Churchill, and from her mother, and she had this upon her neck, and she kept it always till she died. And she was taken 8 long way of, and sold to @ circus-she thought she was sold, but wasn't sure-and she used to ride and things, and she got very tired of it, and was very unhappy. And so one day she fell down from @ high horse, and was hurt, and somebody who was a dressmaker took her home and cured her, and she staid with her and was quite happy till she was grown up, and she always kept the locket, but couldn't ever find her mother or her old home. because she couldn't remember either of them, except like a far-away sort of dream. And so one day gentleman said he was very fond of her, and made her marry him, and go away from every- body that had loved her, and always been good to her. and taken care of her, and made her live in house in a lonely part of London, with nobody but him {; and soon he got to stay away from her all day, and then he got to stay away all night, and then he got to stay away al- together, and he left her alone and poor. and she had only her little hoy (but he didn't know 1t, 'oos he was only a bahy,' and then-and then How am I to say this, dadP"
 "As you like, dear laddie."
 And then," resumed the boy, with still the gravity in his eyes and voice, somebody who had known her cruel husband, and had known that dress maker who'd loved her, tried and tried to find her out and help her. But he couldn't have time, because he was sent a long way off for eight years. But when SA. found her out really, just as she was growing more and more dying; and the little. boy was with her, and nobody else; and this gentleman staid and helped her as much as he could, only he was as poor as he could be. And when she was dead, he took the little boy with him, and they've lived together ever since. And the locket-"
 Wait, laddie, where is the end? Tell it properly"
 "And,' the boy said, rising and standing before the artists chair, "I should say, Mrs. Cheere, the little girl who was stolen was your litle girl, and the gentleman who married her, and was so cruel, was Mir. Jeffrey, and the little boy was me, and the gentleman who was with mother, and knows all about her, and where her grave is-for he chose it and who has had me with him ever since, is-how shall I call you, father Y"
 Not father any more, dear lad, I fear," the artist said, bending his dark face upon the little pale, upraised one, "but just what you think of at the mo- ment. The right word is sure to come then from those tender little lips. can leave it all to you. Now are you ready to go, and have you the locket?"
 "But," argued Jet, "Mrs. Cheere is out now, dad. She was having tea with the housekeeper at The Anchorage when we were there, and she had met Miss Castillain, and had heard-and she came up to Mrs. Esdaile, and-ohl dad"
 The sobs which had been withheld all the evening broke out here un- restrainedly at some sudden recollection.
 "And she said, I suppose" the artist put in, "that she had heard what had happened, and had been expecting it. and, what else ?"
 "No; she said," sobbed the child, "that she heard you say that you wouldn't think it any sin to kill MT. Jeffrey. She heard it through the wall, and she'd been frightened ever since, she said; and she said"
 "What?"
 "That if ever we deserved a deluge it's now, when such crimes-such crimes, she said; were committed by people that lived under the same roof with inno- cent people. Oh dad, don't want to go to herl"
 "But, dsar," the artist said, quite gently-though the thought bitterly forced its way that it should be she whose words would condemn him, and tudG tdllS Clluu 61OulQ D0 6D0 one 70 tou it-"she will be quite different When she has heard that story you are going 60 tell her. She is your grandmother, you know, and she will love you .at once, for her little girls sake, and very soon for your own. Now put SUD- per, laddie-let's have it together to- night Gf there is any) before you go." With just the delft quietness which be. longed to him, the child laid the cloth on the round table, but there was nothing to put on it but one small, cold mutton chop.
 ''You said this morning that we would cal, as we came home, and buy some thing, dad," the boy said, looking rue fully at his neat but scant preparation.
 "Yes, dear but, strange to say, we're quite at a loss in the morning to know what the evening will bring forth. That's quite enough"
 "Then come, please" Jet urged, quietly placing chair for Fitz.
 will come and sit down" he said gently, his dark, sad face brightening involuntarily as Jet, now of his own ao- cord, brought the chairs close up to- gether, "but I've no appetite yet. It's