Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-07-03
THE ATHELSTONS;
OR VICTOR AND vANQUISHED.
BY MARY CECIL HAY.

ing. 1T wish she'd go in."
 Frightened - ehP" laughed the artist, and not afraid to show it Bah Run of.
 But Jet did not run of at all on the contrary, he walked very slowly, and took care to leave the door open behind him. So Fitz, though he took up the broken strain of "The eStandard-bearer" |" again, as he bent industriously over his block, still heard, above it, the shrill, raised tones of his next-door neighbor.
 "Much use it is trying to keep away scamps from ones house when they're encouraged in one's very face. Some they've nothing to lose; but have things to lose, and I'll appeal against money and bribery being given at my own door and in my very face, to vaga- bonds who skulk about and do no work, and for all I know are tickot-of-leave men. A nice sort to attract about one 1 |"
 Over the artists face-turned full to the window nova death-like pallo1 spread, blanching the lips that were half hidden in the rich brown beard, and drawing them with 6 great and pas sionate pain. The voices-his own boys now joined with the woman's-went on outside, but no word reached his ears.
 "Dad, dad 1" cried Jet, entering pres ently, with his small white face vet with tears, and shutting the door behind him, carefully, this time; "she--she-she shook me p
 "Then you'd done something wrong, rejoined Fitz, his lips still white and stiff, while he tried, almost savagely, to regain his ease.
 "No, I hadn't-no, hadn't, indeed, dad. I only said, If she was poor and came to beg she'd rather have penny than a scolding."
 The artists voice was shaken by 0 curbed and fierce excitement. "Movo of; I'll go and apologize for you"
 No father; please don't" urged the child. "I quite meant it.
 "And I'm not to say you're sorry" he asked, quite surprised, bending his eye-so full of strength and power, yet so full of gentleness-upon the earnest one beside him.
 "No, because it wasn't a flo. You know it wasn't, dad"
 "All right. I'll stay where am, then" he said, raising his head with sudden gesture, as if shrinking from something which had a strong fascina- ton for him; and you little know. lad die, what you have stopped. Apology !" he added, with a low laugh of intense satire. "There's little of the angel in me; mine would have been rather a say age apology-but never mind. It shall stand over once more. Only a woman i; alone with the pestilence of black tenn per; solitary, tCo, as we are ourselves and has had trouble, too-if death ever does bring trouble, as they say it does. I don't know. can only dream of one thing worth calling trouble"
 "What, dad? Why are you num- bling? Stop drawing and tell me about
 "Supper l" laughed the artist, rais- ing his eyebrows at the anxious little face.
 "Yes, supper" whined Jet; "I didn't care bit about tea, because we had no sugar, and it's so bitter without sugar and cream"
 Bitterer than most things, eh? We'll, and what's the supper to bep"
 "You said we should have sausages, dad," proposed the child wistfully.
 "Did TP Very we'll. Take that 6 pence, and get half pound. Don't stop in the town at all. ,"
 "Am to bring you bottle of beer, dadP"
 "Not tonight" was the quick reply. "We can't stand that every night, you know; only when we've had very hard days work"
 ''I wish we weren't poor, whined the boy. "Mrs. Cheere made such an ugly frown to-day when she said you ought to send me to school and did so laugh when I told her you couldn't, because you couldn't afard it.
 "You needn't tell her more than ne- cessary, laddie." said the artist, again checking his passion by strong, brave effort. " Whatever she says to you-if you can't walk away out of her hearing just quietly bear it, like a man. Poor lad l" he mutteled, with smile, cit is so easy to tell a child to bear things like a man, and so very hard for a man to bear them any way to make an example sleeve," he continued, with a light change in his voice. "You can't 20 into the town until you have mended it."
 "Won't you do it, father ?" "No; I'm to busy now; I want to make the most of the daylight. You can do it yourself famously." "Jack Esdaile never mends his own coat, I know" grumbled Jet, nor wash himself and he always has buttons on. I believe the tailor puts them on. No other boys have to do everything, like I have, dad"
 "Don't theyP" smiled Fitz, always wonderfully patient with the boy during his occasional fits of gloomy discontent and rebellion. "But still 1 don't quite see why you should envy them. You are happy, I know, my lad; and what more can any boys be-even little Princes?
 "I expect could be happier. dad, |" said the child, with @ strange pathos in his young voice.
 Everybody thinks that, dear. Per. haps little Jack Esdaile fancies that he might be happier"
 1T don't think ho does," was the boys answer. cts his birthday to-day, and he told me what lots of presents he had Dad, when's my birthdayP"
 "I don't know; I-forget," the artist answered, as the dusky red rose slowly in his sunburned face. HDo vou dad ?" lat aaka5 aak0n.