Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1890-08-09
CHAPTER XLvI.

" III Mrs. Cheere's little parlor, and at
the table sat Jet, making, in his draw
ing-book, o rather distorted copy of one
Of the illustrations in Col. Stuart's late
Unpublished work on Highshire-the
one book which Dorcas priced, which
she was among the FIRST to buy Though
such an expensive literary treasure she
had never dreamed before of purchas-
ing), and which was even already begin
ming to look worn and damaged from the
contact of the untiring fingers which
turned the pictured leaves.
jet was STOPPING very much, and his
brows were knitted but even with those
advantages he could not, as it seemed,
obtain an artistic effect, for his rather
Bmeared imitation of of the Churchill
views failed entirely in winning the APP
proval OF the little artist and critic him.
self-a sure sign that the boy had either
real talent or pure taste.
"Perhaps, granny" he said, medita-
lively, as he gave his pencil suck
which might be professional, but GER
tainly was not elegant-"perhaps
might make it more like if you could
just help me bit now and then, like
like father used"
"But, you see, I don't know anything
about it, dear. You must get on as well
as you can by yourself at present"
The old woman's eyes were soft and
gentle behind her spectacles, as she sat
close to the child, knitting him stockings
and watching the progress OF his work
with the greatest interest and the most
peasant and unconcealed ignorance of
its defects. But his last words made
her thoughtful, as his inadvertently ut
tered wish to learn anything always did.
Ought she to send the boy away to
school at cost of any loneliness to her.
self, while she knew she could not afford
to send him to such one as she let her
thoughts build for him2 Or ought she
tosend him every morning into Churchill,
where the education would still be more
widely different from that one on which
she had fixed her hopes for him? For
those quiet eyes behind the glasses could
wander miles and miles away beyond
the cottage gate, and often did now,
seeing wide, dazzling pictures Of her
boys after-life sunny SCENES, in which
he should work his lfs's work we'll and
bravely, and where she should leave him
some day, that she might go and tell it
! all to his mother in heaven, and to some
one else who had loved the child and
would remember him even there.
But at present it seemed that the
start for him was unattainable. He
ought to be at school, and at good
school; yet she could not afford it Cfor
the money old..Mr. Dymocke had left him
was not to be touched until he became
of age). Nor could she either bear to
part with him or to separate himzfrom
Jack Esdaile, who was not going to any
public school until his fathers return
from abroad, and who, as Dorcas full
we'll knew, was the best friend that her
boy could have.
It was just as she was thinking OF
him that Jack himself came into the
room, with his bright, familiar, yet al
ways courteous, greeting.
"Mrs. Cheere," he cried, letting his
momentarily subdued excitement
break out again, "please, I'm come to
fetch you and Jet to The AnchorageI
Who do you think came to-day? Papa,
yes, really papa-my own father, you
know, Jet, who's been away for years.
Yes, he's come, Mrs. Cheere, and he
wants to see you-you and Jet. And
the brougham's at the gate, and I'm to
wait for you, and not to take any re-
tusal. Please come quick, Mrs. Cheere.
Make haste, Jet. long to show you
my father. Hos
The boy was suddenly stayed by the
memory which Jets wistful eyes had
awakened. Had it been cruel TO talk &C
gleefplly of the return Of his father tc
the child whose father never would re-
turn? He passed his arm lovingly
through Jets, and whispered to him
with q bright, affectionate smile:
"He wants particularly to see you
Jet. Do you know he seems as anxiou:
to see you as he was to see me u
Dorcas donned her best bonnet anc
muffied herself for the cold drive, theI
overlooked Jets mufAing.
"You both run down to the carriage
while the light is here to guide you,
abe added, turning out the two LITTLE
great-ooated and comforted figures
"Tl leave the door open, and follow
when I've put out the lamp and LOCKED
up"
"Tm glad he's come" she murmuret
to herself, as abe waited to be sure o
the last spark dying out, "for many
Stuart and Marjorie viii be married.
knew she'd never go to be mistress q
The Anchorage, to turn out Mrs. Esdaile
though she'd make up all kinds of ex
cuses sooner than let that out Yes, In
glad enough he's come; bat he can
really want to see us"
The eyes Of Mrs. Cheere-so long &C
customed to her own small rooms ant
small companion. and. more than that
coming straight in from the darkness o
the winter night-were utterly dazzlet
in the drawing-room at The Anchorage
among what seemed to her . perfec
crowd of happy, excited people. /
took her q good many minutes, and tw'
cups of Mrs. Esdaile's fragrant tea, I.
fit her to comprehend what they wer
saying.
"I little thought as you may guess,
, said Col. Stuart, after trying in his kind
ly, easy way to make it clear to her
"that the answer sent to that next
. of-kin' advertisement was destined TO
my own brother-in-law."
: II was delighted, put in Mr.. Esdaile
pleasantly, " to find, when Messrs
Beard and Cartwright forwarded m
the letter. that the next Of kin l souQh