Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1893-03-25
CHAPTER IL

Charles Henry reused himself from his
couch and gazed apprehensively at the gray,
grilny dawn as it in through the tattered
blinds OF his simply furnished garrett. With
Spartan manliness he had refrained from deck
Ing that apartment-he had but one-with
costly triumphs Of the upholsterer's art. The
bedsiead was OF iron and supported flock
mattress with painful tendency to knobbiness
The wind whis:led shrilly up through the car
petless floor. A three-egged chair without a
back, wash hand stand of deal, in whose COY
embrace reposed cracked basin which had
evidently seen better days, and a dissipated-
looking deal table comprised the somewhat I'M
ornameni al surroundings with which he had
Deen compelled to content himself. Actuated
by desire 10 pass his enforced leisure in artis-
tic pursuits. Charles Henry had himself de-
signed the MIRA! decorations Of his apar tment
with piece of charcoal. The most striking
feature In the scheme of decoration was an
efhgy OF Charles Henry suspended from a
branch of lofty pine by a hempen rope. Under
meath this mot!onless figure were written the
words. in Charles Henrys characteristic hand
writing"
CHARLES Henry Hawkins. Born LIST Of
April. 1871.
Did for himself LIST April, 1892
He was a DUN FOOL"
Charles Henry got out of bed and surveyed
the efhgv with grim satisfaction. As he gazed
his sternness relaxed and humorous twinkle
took its place. "Well." he said with a sigh,
i've had bully time and no mistake. West
minister Abbey. houses of parliament Bucking-
ham palace and the tower-all the places I've
read OF at school-seen EN- all. They've been
waiting for me ever since they were built, and
I've seen 'em. What did want to go and play
cards for with confidence men and bunko steer
ers and dissipate my substance-S4O0-in riot
GUS living? dunno. 'spose it was part Of
the time But amt got red cent left. And
I've had nothing to eat 'cept an orange for two
days. l can't live on Buckingham palace and
Westminster Abbey and chew a slice out of the
tower No. sir, I've got to get something to
eat or peg out. / can't cable mother because
nobody will lend me the money. Wonder if
there Is anything l can pawn?'
.. he felt his pockets in perfunctory way, as
Il knowing what the result must be. "Waist-
coat went last week." he said. addressing the
effigy. Last week. What am to do now?
There's good deal in that Prodigal Son BUSH
ness OF mothers. l reckon I'm emptier than
he ever felt. But have had good time"
He dipped his curly head in a basin Of water
and looked around for his boots. They were
not to be seen. II couldn't have pawned them
in my Sleep" he said. staggering against the
wall. I'm beginning to see double. Wouldn't
mother crow over me if she could see me
now"
Suddenly his face frightened 81 promised
her to get back a month ago. and shs said if l
didn't turn up on time she'd come and fetch
me. Wonder If she'll do it She'll have to
come quick or there won't be enough Of me to
make a shadow.
He fell to counting the days. "She'd give
me week extra, or fortnight, and then rear
up and come straight along" said Charles
Henry refectively. ''Oh! yes, she'll come.
Bat how am l to get along now? I've been to
the Canadian consul and he wouldn't do any
thing. Suppose try the editor Of Montreal
Scraps. He's got an Office down Fleet street,
for passed it in my prides on a car one day.
My! I'd give anything for good breakfast.
It's dreadful thing to be hungry and have all
your internal arrangements crying out for
work. Let me see. I'd begin with hash and
coffee and wind up with biscuits and maple
strip and buckwheat cakes, with few eggs and
hunk Of cold venison and some fowl and cram
berry jam and cream to finish Then I'd begin
all over again. And then? Well, then I'd try q
fresh lot"
Charles Henry licked his lips in anticipation.
They felt hot and dry. He drank tumbler of
water, but it made him SILVER. Then he looked
around for his boots, and some one knocked ct
the door.
Charles Henry reeled sliehtly q he opened
the door. sits you, Is it?" he said to the grimy
''slayey," girl Of about sixteen, with tangled
red haiE and q profusion OF black lead and boot
polish imparsally spread over her expressive
features.
"Yus, it's me-" the girl said. 'swho else did
yer think IL was-the parish beadle? 'Ere's yer
bootA 4issus oyibbed EN- whom you VA