Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1890-12-06
The Widows Ledger.

loudly enough to be heard, and the we'll
known voice growled out, Come in"
Mary entered very timidly, and the
old gentleman did not look up. He
could not put on his spectacles, for the
child was playing with them.
Don't you think" he said, in the
same growl, suppressed for the child's
sake, you shameless baggage, that you
ought TO be thoroughly ashamed of
yourself, proving round the square
with a man smoking a pipe, and leav-
ing this dear little fellow hereg 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 on the table with q 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 was taken
off his guard, and the accident to his
spectacles had vexed him, but he re-
tanned his self-possession.
81 beg your pardon" he said, II
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 1t, Mrs. Al
lenby, / was allowed to think you had
no childrenY"
mot by my wish, sir" said Mary,
feeling wonderfully at home with him.
II wanted Mr.. Joyce to tell you.
ksUvalI xualI 20 1Nac ,,nk pnaftar. Won
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 | 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; she has been
very troublesome, l am afraid, and you
have such an aversion to children.
"Some children, my dear madam.
Joyce should have told you that. l 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
mepn
"He does not take to strangers gener-
ally"
Follows his instincts perhaps, as |
do. What did You say his name was?"
arthur Michael"
after his father, l suppose?"
"And his uncle--his fathers uncle, /
should say,-my husband was very fond
Of him.
Drink ONE wine, please, and take
some preserved ginger; it's very good.
Let me see. Observation-Disclosures
surely cannot mean old Mike Allenby,
Of Barbados, a cr~oss-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 10 me my
husband loved before anyone in the
world-a noble, just, and generous man,
who did good for its w 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, ana that was mine of him. |
have nc 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 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 oth%er-hardly a compliment TO
either Of us. / wonder, Master Arthur,
what you would think of old Mike"
The baby Rugged him round the 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. / hardly know what old Mike
would think of that. How old are you,
Mrs. AllenbyY'
"Twenty-three."
$50 young and pretty "he said, almost
to himself. II hardly wonder, poor
child!' and he smoothed the baby's
curly head. do you know, my dear,
IL is strange? / often heard old Mike
speak Of your husband, but never Of
you. Did he know Arthur was mar
ried?"
mo, sir. Poor fellowl he was writ
ing to him when he died. / have the
letter still-unfinished."
The letter still-unfinished. Heaven
bless myl' and the old gentleman trem-
bled with some strange emotion. "Why,
he may have wanted something done
that l could do. As old Mikes friend,
my dear, is it too much to ask you to
let me see that letter. / am an old
man, my dear, not quite a stranger, and
| wish it very much.'
He asked this so eagerly, earnestly,
and sadly too, that Mary looked at him
in surprise.
Scarcely" she said, "as Uncle
Michael's friend, MI. Barker. Yes,
you shall see it. Do you ever corre-
spond with Uncle Michael?"
"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 il he had been
crying.
"Are you in pain, sir?" she asked.
"a twinge," he said, huskily, and
looking at his foot in its huge, unshape-
ly 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
" did not depend upon the blue specta-
cles entirely, for he took apair of hand
some gold-rimmed glasses from his
waistcoat pocket; but he did not seem
to see clearly even with them.
us not the writing dullY" he said.
"Or is it my eyesightY"
"The writing, sir, / think. Poor Ar
thur was very weak when he began that
letter. Twill tell you, Mr.. Barker, how
"A - 49, - ~ -