The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1893-02-02

Ting than heaVy fall, ana Iouo,
harsh. reverberating report, as thougha
cannon had been fired at her ear.
No woman is ever too frightened to
scream, and Mrs. Jameson's shrieks
were loud and shrill as she covered
among the bedclothes, and a scrambling
in the darkness and muttered words she
could not understand did not tend to
calm her.
There was rush of feet in the hall
without; stout shoulder sent the door
inward with a crash, and Dick Levoe,
who had made this unceremonious en-
trance, stood there, with light high
above his head, his keen eyes scanning
the apartment swiftly.
It took him moment to comprehend,
and then he laughed with immeasur-
able amusement.
The miller, clad but lightly, was
sprawling on the floor, daZed wonder in
his face, the old rifle, which he had struck
as he fell, lying harmless beside him
and now unloaded; a window was open,
and through it came fine sheet Of rain;
the old man was soaking wet and rain
drops glstened on his hair and scanty
garments; his bare feet were muddy,
and altogether he presented anything
but an agreeable or presentable appear
ance.
"What has happened?" asked Dick as
soon as his mirth could be suppressed, as
he aided the miller to his feet.
"I-l don't know" stammered Jane.
SON.
His wife, hearing voices, cautiou
peeped out from under the coverlet.
"Robbers!' she cried shrilly. "They
have been here again. Have they shot
you, Harvey
"No, wife, I'm not shot, said Harvey,
San / don't think there's been any rob-
bers round. Fact is I've been sleep
| walking"
"Whatt
"rve been walkin in my sleep, sure as
you live" groaned the miller. I'm all
wet, so must have gone out of doors.
an theLor only knows where l have
been or what I've been dom. l was
dreamin of that ten pounds
He broke off and hurried to the spot
in which he had hidden the money. It
was not there.
You're rather old for such capers,
Harvey" his wife was saying.
But he didn't hear her. Very blankly
he turned to Dick, who had now retreat
ed to the threshold where Jennie was
standing, white and startled, but ravish-
ingly pretty.
Lad" the miller said solemnly, 81
believe I've robbed myself. I've heard
Of such things, an now believe I've just
done that, an hain't got notion where
Iput the money"
sis it gone?'
EYES,"
"Then you had best put on dry clothes,
sir, while l go out and try to follow the
tracks you have probably left in the
garden. Your feet are so muddy I'm
sure you must have been there. I'll re-
port in few moments"
A whispered sentence to Jennie at the
door, and Dick was off to don his boots
and laugh at the remembrance of the
miller's plight.
With lantern he went out into the
rain, and his gravity departed again as
under the window of the miller's
chamber he discovered deeply indented
footprints, which proved that Jameson
had emerged like a schoolboy.
The big, bare feet left plain traces in
the soft soil Of the garden. Dick fol-
lowed them on across the road, and
found that they ceased at one corner Of
the mill. A loose board had been
freshly replaced. He drew it out and
there. in the aperture, found a small tin
| box.
Taking it out, he hurried back to find
Jameson, his wife and Jennie up and
dressed, waiting for him.
| The miller took the box eagerly and
opened it with scarcely steady hands.
There were the ten pounds, and under
them the money of which he had thought
Dick had robbed him.
Lad" he said, turning to his EN-
ployee, 1--WE been thinkin i'll of you for
the last few days, an ask your pardon
Ii can ever do you good turn call on
me-"
| 81 take your word, sir,' said Dick
cheerfully, going straight to Jennie and
taking her hand. - want your consent
to nay marrying Jennis some day, when
have proved myself able to take care
OF her. We love each other, and I hope,
sir, you'll not forget what love was to
yourself once"
''No, l don't, lad," said the miller,
with tender glance toward his wife;
"but a mill hand gets but poor wages,
an you'll have to wait awhile"
'As for that" said Dick, 81 think
you'll have to look up another mill hand,
Mr.. Jameson, for l have another offer,
and intend taking it. WASN'T brought
up to labor and was at college when
my father died, leaving me, instead of
the thousands l expected, nothing but
my empty, unframed hands. I left the
college and fate led me hither If |
have shown no talent as miller, have
won the sweetest girl in the world to
love me. Now a friend of my fathers
offers me the post of bookkeeper in his
bank at a salary on which Jennie and !
can live, know. didn't take your
money, sir, and I'll forgive you for sus-
pecting that did if you'll give me Jen-
ME-"
What do you say, daughter asked
thu old man wistfully.
81 love him, father" she whispered.
Then I'll only say, God bless you
bothr" said the miller.-Yankee Blade.
What American Painters Earn.
| Less than twenty years ago member
of the National Academy of Design de-
clared that he knew positively that there
were but ten artists in New York who
were making as much as $1,000 year