Fort Worth daily gazette. (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1882-1891, 1890-03-08
''Well, ah mum be of to the factory.
If ali don t there'll be row, for my
mon IS playin him ageu.
With that the friends parted.
CHAPTER IA COMPACT.

~ towards the factory offices in which ht
worked. The shock he had received 6
short time before on recognizing the dead
woman had greatly unnerved him, and
his face was still very pale, while his
! manner was that of man whose refieo-
tons were deep and unpleasant.
As he slouohed along over the slippery
| pavement, for the snow was trodden
hard and black now, he kept murmuring
to himself, and occasionally his hand
wandered to the pocket in which he had
| placed the papers taken from the unfOr-
tunate creature 8 purse.
Here as well as elsewhere the charao-
ter and appearance of Daniel Ashton
may be briefly indicated. In age he was
seven or eight and twenty; was rather
tall and slimly built; with fiorid features,
| light mustache and sandy hair.
| He was rather good looking fellow
and not by any means scoundrel And
yet there was a great deal about him
| that was displeasing-even discreditable.
! He loved to take things easy; spent more
| of his wages in the public house than he
| could rightly afford; he was no lover of
| work, and hardly so creditable a hus-
! band and father as he might have been
OF course, he was NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS.
| the careless ne 'er-d0-weel vagabonds are
| always most eager to rush into matri-
! mony Probably they think, as the
| Lancashire folks put it, that they can
| starVe woman and children as well as
| anyone.
Four or FIVE years ago, Dan had wed n
| girl who was much too good for him, and
| in little while he went to America,
| leaving his wife and one child behind
him. But he did not stay in the States
long, and he came home again some
what poorer than he left. Finally, he
was now a tlmekeeper at Harwood S
mill, and he knew that when he reached
the Office he would get "blown up'' for
being late.
mice time this, Ashton!' cried Dick
Harwood, as the clerk entered. ''How
the devil can you keep auybody's time
If you come at this hour? Half past six,
'pon my soul. Come at this time just
once more, and you go. Do you hear?
You go!''
Ibid you hear about the dead woman,
sir?'' Dan asked adroitly.
dead woman! What dead woman?
Why, what's the matter with you?''
Harwood cried. "You are as white as
sheet, man. Is that the reason you re
so late?''
"It is. AS I came down Mitigate just
now, saw two wenches making a row
in Benson s entry, and when l went to
'em there was a dead woman with a
child in her arms lying nearly buried in
the snow. -
"Frozen to death, en-? Who is she?'
the mill owner asked in a matter-of-
fact way.
Dan hesitated just for moment, and
q startled look came into his eyes. The
gaze of his master and the other clerks
were upon him.
'fShe is-unknown, - he said lowly.
"Humpi Well, be off round the mill
and see who's away. Don't let this
happen again, Ashton. Can't have you
losing time and money like this if twenty
women and children make up their minds
to lie in entries and die there.
Dan fastened away without another
word, his face still pale and his manner
thoughtful, and for the remainder of
that day those among whom he moved
noticed that he was much quieter than
usual. Probably he was thinking of the
woman who had died in the snow that
morning.
1t was evening, between the hours of
6 and Z, and the night was as beautiful
as the previous one had been bitter and
boisterous. A keen frost had set in; in
the streets the thawed and trampled snow
was turning to sheets of ice, on and o 'er
which pedestrians and beasts OF burden
were slipping and sliding, and the silver
moon sailed high. and the stars glittered
and scinitilated like points of white fire.
An hour ago the mill hands had trooped
ont of the factories, and, a-weary with
the day 5 work had HE'D them through
the snow homeward. hungering for the
aal Aa
of their own firesides.
In the cosy little drawipg-room at
Bank house, Mr.. Richard Harwood was
sitting, enjoying his after-dinner smoke.
He was Lancashire cotton spinner of
the old type that is fast going out, for
he practically managed every depart |
ment of his large milIs.g
Each morning at Harwood was at |
the factory, and, save at meal times, he |
left it not until the days work was done |
and the mills were closed.
Two years before this Harwood was !
simply the manager of these mills, and |
not their owner; and at that time there !
seemed to be no probability of MIN ever |
becoming their proprietor. But death |
had struck down three lives within a
month, and the improbable had become
plain matter OF fact, to the great ben
ent duu IunulIS uGilSDE Oh fCtCQ8TU HAT
wood
All these things were Of such recent
occurrence that the mill owner dwelt
upon them as he sat there by the great
fire and pulled the smoke in thin wreaths
from his lips. 1t was certainly unfortu-
nate and matter to be greatly deplored
that his wild elder brother should have
died out there in America at the very
moment the fortune WAS coming to him.
If George had lived the mills would
have been his, and Northumberland
ha We been still but the manager.
Well, he reflected, It was better as it
was. Somebody must die if some one
else is to come In for a snug thing. If
George were still aliye-
Mt. Harwood 8 reflections came to a |
sudden end. There was some one knock
Ing at the 6oor.
''Come in, - he shouted.
ga letter, sir. -
Put it on the table, Jones. -
The servant departed and Harwood
finished his cigar. Then, as he cast the
butt end into the glowing Goals, he
picked up the letter, gazed at the adj
dress, or rather the handwriting, with q
start, and tore 1t open. The communi-