The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1893-06-07

Wnat IS th1sr i nave no note OF
Fuch a sum
ut is quite correct, sir. The amount
is a large one and the check was pre-
sented by your son. You must recol-
lect
The cashier of the down town bank
placed in the Hon. Amos Leonard's
hands q check for exactly the amount
of lie Roy's debts, not cent more or
less. It was signed with the Hon.
Amos Leonsrd's name, in his own
peculiar chirography, but not by his
hand. Only he knew that-he and one
other.
"Ah yes my memory must be fail
ing little, I-yes, of course" Mr..
Leonard forced a short, harsh laugh.
II recall IL now-yes, perfectly.
1t is all right, good day, good day,
perfectly indeed.
A young clerk, with his slim legs
twisted among the rounds of a high
stool, watched the stately old man, as
he made his way out. When the heavy
door swung together, he dipped his
pen in the ink again but paused before
he used it, to say with a shrewd,
malicious grin:
"Guess Beau Brummel LIE Roy
might help him to remember it bet
ter"
go on with your books, sir?'
The cashier spoke in quick, stern
voice, which admitted of no retort or
disobedience. Silence ensued, except
for the scratching of the pens.
Mr.. Leonard's faltering steps carried
him homeward unwittingly and he
sank into his deep chair before the
library fire, conscious of a desire to
think it all over and corresponding
dread of the same. Perhaps it might
not be long before he ceased thinking
altogether. He felt that he had grown
TO be an old, old man in the last few
hours
How brightly the fire was burning.
The great library looked unusually
neat and well appointed. He re-
membered that it had lately
been cleaned and renovated He
hoped that Harry had mislaid none
of his books or papers. Ali papers
He must begin to think now about that
paper he had seen at the bank. When
he had warmed his bloodless hands
we'll, then he would think about it.
Since lie Roy had entered upon his
professional career, father and son had
rarely met during the day, but they
had by mutual, though tacit, agree
ment taken up the old habit of dining
together almost regularly, notwith-
standing the demands ,of society upon
the time of each. Tonight, Mr..
Leonard reasoned, lie Roy would
probably not come home. Or perhaps
he was not aware of the fact that the
check had been shown to his father. 1t
would be better to wait in that case
until he did know. 1t would also
afford Mr.. Leonard more time to think
the matter over.
He stepped to a window to lower a
shade, where the sun blazed in too
glaringly in its red setting light.
Down heavenue he saw LIE Roy com
ing home.
The father stood there watching his
son, as he had done a thousand times
before. lie Roy had grown into the
habit of expecting him there, and now
just as he had always done, he
snatched off his hat and waved it boy
ishly over his head The Hon. Amos
Leonard nodded his white head and
then laughed aloud at the mockery of
it. "He does not know yet" he
mused. 81 shall have more time to
think"
He was waiting il the library when
| t. Do 1.x,., CO IraoaaI
dinner. He sat down by his father
and read the evening papers until the
meal was announced.
Then he arose, and just as he had
done ever since he grew to his father g
height, offered his strong young arm
and led his father to his place at the
head of the table.
The evening dinner had always been
happy one to those two old friends
when they dined alone together. So
it was tonight. There were no guests
lie Roy's bright talk cheered the lonely
home and his father joined in it with
more than usual vivacity. 1t was no
time to think while 'the boy" was
present.
After dinner came a game of chess,
and that finished, lie Roy got out his
guitar and accompanied his rich, sweet
baritone in the ballads his father loved
TO hear.
Usually after this, lie Roy went out
some where. Occasionally the Hon.
Amos Leonard went with him, but to-
night neither seemed inclined to leave
the luxury of home. Not until the
great hall clock chimed the hour of
midnight did lie Roy rise and bid
goodnight to his father in the old,
boyish and unusual, perhaps, but in
finitely sweet TO the old nun, who had
no one else TO bid him goodnight in
any way.
After that it was too late to think.
"To-m orrow," said Amos Leonard to
hims ,lf, she will know and he will not
coTIe.
Tomorrow" pased slowly and yet
the father had not found time nor mind
to think. That dull old grief had come
upon him again just as it had when he
was first left with only lie Roy in the
world. Sometimes he seemed to hear
the boys childish prattle, as he did in
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