Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1894-08-04

blacksmith left his job Of shooting anc
retired to the interior of the shop.
"You couldn't "a done fer her as She II
/ be done fer, SAM" said the old man
whose horse he had left half shod. "You
couldn't a made fine lady out o. her. :"
! NO, / couldn't IA done that" said
| Sam.
During the summer the news spread
through the village that g'anny's baby
was getting kind of cross and peevish,
ana that the great lady had said to tine
nurse that twas q mistake for person
to adopt child.
Iwo months later it was declared
positively that Mrs. Eustice was going
to Europe with her husband and her
great aunt; that g'anny's baby lay i'll
IN the big house; that Mrs. Eustice had
told the doctor she rever could forgive
herself for adopting the child.
line sun was about three feet from
the top of TIE second hill when the bit
or flying gossip reached the black
smiths shop and was Just sinking be-
hlnd the hill when broad shouidcred
man walked hastily across the grounds
and entered the big house by the rear
way
| While the man sat waiting in the
library he tool, from his pocket n greasy
pocketbook, and opening it laid the
/ contents on his knee. His hand tram-
| bed as he counted the notes over to
make sure they were all right-SI. COO.
There was a sweep of dainty garments
! along the hail, and Mrs. Eustice came
into the library. She gave a slight start
| upon recognizing her visitor, regarding
! him not so much Is the blacksmith,
! WHOM she knew by sight at the shop,
but as tie man who had bid against her
for g'anny's baby.
hear, y said the man slowly, THAT
you' re goin off to Europe
"Ics, said the lazy.
And ;iloy say that the baby amt SO
we'll"
Yes, that's true too. It's been all
ing al summer. What did you wish"
was thini;in," he said, THAT as
the whole transaction was n business
| one-that, now being as you're goin
away, and the baby's sick, mebbe as
you might he willin to sell. I'm ready
to give you yer price
Mrs. Eustice was startled She had
lamentcd that reckless sGuandorinC of
her money at the village auction more
than once; bat, according to herself, she
was honest.
You ought to see the poor little
thing, she said. Come, I'll show
her TO you.
Silently sam Winters followed the
great lady to the nursery, where the
baby tossed III its little crib. shes
had the best Of doctors" said Mrs. Eus-
tice, 'but l don t believe anybody knows
what's the matter with her.
TN give you 81, $780," said the man
huskily.
oh, dear nor cried the lady; that
wouldn't be fair. Why, / doubt if she
lives till we return. l tell you what,
III take $500 if you are willing to run
the risk. It's outlandish, selling a
baby; but, then, you know, 1 bought
her.
Winters counted gut the money and
handed it over. He had not dared To
touch the baby that belonged to the
great lady, brt after paying the $500
he stopped and patted the little flaming
face.
Down the richly carpeted stems.
through the broad hall, out into the park
ana On along the pike hastened the man
with his precious bundle, his $500 baby.
He did not go to the blacksmith shop
or the bachelor quarters behind it, but
directly to that little whitewashed cot
taSe where lived the old woman who
had been rescued from the poorhouse.
lie went into the house and laid the
baby on the bed.
Granny, he called softly, Gran
N.Y.
She came in slowly from the kitchen.
shading her old eyes.
Don't you think You kin nurse a lit
tie baby till she's well?'
The old woman fell ON her knees be-
side the bed, she gathered the baby
close IN her arms, she swayed to and fro
as if she Were rocking it. The apathv
had vanished from her face; it was as
glad as sunshine.
I'm nuss her till she gifts well, - she
sobbed, cor We'll die together. -
Six months had passed away. 1t was
ON beautiful afternoon in the spring.
time. All the roses in Two Hills were
abloom. A carriage drawn by two
splendid bays came Gathering ND the
village street. The great people had re-
turned.
Sitting in the doorstep of little
whitewashed cottage was small vel
low haired girl. She was swinging her
feet and singing at the top of her voice.
Above her the red roses trailed them
selves luxuriously.
The lady looked out and waved ler
hand and smiled. The child stopped
singing and stared.
"She doesn't know me-" said the
great lady, with half sigh and laugh.
But the yellow haired girl rose from
the doorstep with alacrity, ran into the
cottage and laid her head in the old
grandmother's lap, hiding her face
I'm g 'anny's baby" she sobbed.
The old woman heard the carriage
wheels and the Gathering horses. She
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