The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1894-08-31

tinctly state that the notes were print
ed from genuine plates made by the
government? What matters it to him
if the plates had been stolen? 1t was
no affair of his. Was not the money
the same, whether printed with Uncle
Sam's sanction or without it?
The government had millions, bill
lions for aught he knew, locked up in
the Treasury vaults, of no use to any
body. Why should not he profit by
Uncle Sans carelessness The tempt
er won.
The coming of dusk admonished
him of the flight of time. He placed
the precious documents carefully in
his pocket. When he reached home
the scanty supper was waiting for him.
"Poppy's tum! poppy's tum!h
whooped the little white head two
sizes larger than the baby that wore
it.
There was always baby in the
Tarsney household. These children
loved the shiftless, worthless father
who was always good natured, who
whitfield toys for them, and was ever
ready with a story.
He had no relish for the simple sup
per that night. The food half chok-
ed him. He noticed, he knew not why
that his wifes cough seemed worse
than common, though in truth it had
been growing worse for weeks I'M
perceived by him. But the poor wo-
man looked more cheerful tonight
than was her wont.
She was not patching or mending
this evening, but was nursing the fee
BILE baby in idleness. Her thin cheeks
were family flushed. The little white
baa6c n and avaifaI nuar
something unusual.
'Dess what, poppy?' piped the
head that was two sizes larger than
the baby.
Pm to git all the fine washin' and
ironin' from the hotel" and Mrs. Tars-
ney, with almost happy smile. Il
can make most a dollar a day out of
it,,
Poor soul! Happy at the prospect of
added toll.
And NE and John are to begin pick
in grapes at the nursery day after
tomorrow" said Jim, ten years old
Well git half cent pound.'
Il made six cents herdin' Mis- Bar
lows ducks this afternoon chimed
in Lyddy, the eight-year-old girl.
For long time these poor souls
had worked, saved and denied them
selves that they might return to the
old home estate. The hunger for
home had been gnawing at Mrs. Tars-
ney's heart for many a long, long day.
She had uttered little complaint, but
had toiled on, wearing her life out
over the washtub in the hope Of one
day returning to the dear old home
community. Sometimes she said
hopefully:
Maybe my health will be better
when we get back home"
The younger children knew only by
hearsay about the old home, but they
were all strong in the belief that it was
the happiest place on earth.
They were all of one accord, hungry
to go. No self-denial tending to bring
the happy time nearer was too great
for them to make. Every dollar, nick
lie, penny that could possibly be spared
was sacredly boarded to that end.
The sum required to take them all
was a very great one in their eyes,
Mrs Tarsney, with pathetic pride,
felt that they must not go looking like
beggars. New clothes must be provid
ed for all, and no matter how cheap,
new clothes for the entire flock would
cost what was to them another large
| sum.
In the battered old pewter sugar
bowl in the little cupboard beside the
chimney was one hundred and forty
two dollars and seventy-nine cents, the
savings of many long days of toll and
| Drivation. Out of the hoard the nus
band and father, too, must be well
clothed and provided with railway
ticket. He had added but little to the
fund, possibly five dollars in all-but
| h. Jn nd 20
Mrs. Tarsney was afraid of banks, and
so the slowly growing hoard was kept
in the old pewter sugar-bowl
lit wont be so very long now," the
poor woman had said, hopefully, and
then d paroxysm of coughing shook
her. My dollar Il day will count up
pretty fast, and Johnny and Jimmy
will make good deal, while grapes
last"
Lyman Tarsney lay awake all night
long, torn by doubts and indecision.-
He believed he loved his little flock
He would have done right by them
long ago, he told himself, if only some
thing had turned up to give him Il
chance to do so. The something for
which he had so patiently waited had
been long time in turning up. But
now, he thought, the opportunity had
come; he had his chance at last.
Just as the first faint gray was
creeping up in the east, Lyman Tars-
ney rose from beside his sleeping wife
and stole the battered old pewter SUI
garbowl and its contents, every pen
ny of which represented so much
patient self denial, of toll and priva
| ton.
As he skunk through the room, Mrs.
Tarsney, disturbed by some slight
noise that he made stirred uneasily
and coughed in her sleep, and the
wretched man paused suddenly, as if
a reproachful voice had called to him.
| But the poor woman did not waken,
and he crept out of the house with the
precious hoard in his clutch.
He started to stink rapidly away,
and then stopped, he knew not why.
The gray of the early morning hung
over the sleeping earth, and dimmed
the stars, fading slowly before the
coming day. Soft sounds of the pass
! ing night were borne to his ears with
seemingly unaccustomed clearness.
1t would be train time in Il few min
utes. Tarsney took two or three
slouching steps toward the gate, and
then stopped again. The patient wife
and mother, the little flock of white
heads-how terribly they would be cast
down when they discovered the loss.
! Their grief
But was he not acting for the best,
doing the best for them? he asked
| himself 1t would not be for long, and
| then he would come back with a much
greater sum of money than he had
taken away. He would make il all
up to them then, and they would all
go back to the old home state.
Still he did not go on. He turned
and crept cautiously to the window
left open for the admission of the
breeze. The room was wrapped in
darkness.
He could hear the regular breath
ing of its sleeping inmates. Mrs. Tars-
ney coughed again feebly in her sleep.
Disturbed by the sound, one of the
little white heads in the trundlebed
almost beneath the window stirred
uneasily and murmured, "Poppyr
Lyman Tarsney clutched the window
sill, and then there came the long
drawn, iar-off whistle of the east
bound train admonishing him that he
had but Just time to reach the station.
He turned and slouched quickly to
the rickety half-hingeless gate, then
paused with his hand on its top. The
little white heads murmured
"Poppyr' seemed still sounding in his
ears.
He stood there for little while, then
his hand dropped from the top of the
gate and lie looked up at the far, far
off, fading stars in the CRAVING sky