Sullivan republican. [volume] (Laporte, Pa.) 1883-1896, 1894-01-12


withered rose leaves.
'That's why / think he went off as
he did. I know Wade better than you
do"-Tom doubted that "he's young
and likes to make a good appearance,
and maybe he didn't care to have an
old-fashioned woman like me around
with him everywhere.
can old-fashioned angel, muttered
Tom to his boots; ''any decent man
would be only too proud of such Il
mother-there, now; I've made you
cry again, when / was trying to say
something pleasant"
"No," said Mrs. Moore, raising
resolute face full of cheerful courage.
''No, I'm not going to let it worry me
any more. I've divided my trouble
with you now by telling of it, and I'm
going to put it out of my mind.
'I'm not going to spoil you boys
Christmas dinner by being dull or de-
pressed, either"
90, the Christmas dinner" said
Tom lit was an annual institution with
Mrs. Moore). "There are ten coming
that know of--did you get the tur-
keys?"
Yes" she answered, ''fne ones, and
my pumpkins turned out SO well this
year. Teofilo fixed up aplan for irri-
eating the garden. We won't have
the canned stuff like we had last. j"
"Well, said Tom, rising to go, 81
wouldn't worry about Wade. He'll be
home all right when his money gives
out. You must be ready to play and
sing for us tomorrow. You know we
boys expect plenty of music when we
come here"
Il will," cheerfully, ''and I'll go in
and start those pies right now. Tell
the boys to bring any poor fellow they
know that's away from home and has
no place to eat the Christmas dinner"
Tom rode away, and the last word
from him, oddly enough as Mrs.
Moore thought, was faint hail sent
back
"Mind- e-expect music!'
Christmas morning Mrs. Moore
baked her pies. A goodly row. The
| turkeys were i'll the oven, the other
dishes baking, simmering or stewing,
as best suited them, when the wind
stopped pumping. That meant, since
the store was already low, cutting
off of the water supply before night.
81 might as well fix it before |
change my DRESS" she reflected, and
catching up heavy hammer she went
out to the tower.
Forty feet seems rather extraor-
dinary climb for q woman of her age,
the ladder, too, was wooden, old and
unsafe, as Tom Andrews had warned
her week or two ago, but old Teofilo
was gone she was as fearless as an
urchin, and up she went, laughing a
little. A tap from her big hammer
set things right, and the wheel began
revolving, but the first turn struck
the hammer out of her hand, and
down it fell, knocking off three rungs
of the rickety ladder as it went.
Well, she was finely caught.
Visions of the Christmas dinner
burning up while she was imprisoned
so fitted through her mind.
Looking about for aid she saw a
pony and rider approaching the front
of the house cautiously. 1t was Tom
Andrews; but how curiously he was
acting. He dismounted, tied his pony
in bunch of mesquite and came up
to the house almost on tiptoe, looked
i'll at every window, tried some of the
doors, and then, standing on the
porch, called her name very softly.
She laughed as she looked Mt him.
No, she wouldn't answer. She'd
rather anybody but Tom Andrews
should help her down. He had
seemed so Mortified at the idea that
she should ever go up on windmills at
all when he had warned her of the un-
SAFE ladder.
AS she looked he stole softly back to
the little divide that hid the house
from the road, and waved his handker
chief to some one she could not see.
An awful fear clutched at her heart
as, in answer to the signal, wagon
came in sight along the road A
wagon with the ten young men she
had expected to dinner, some riding
in it, some walking beside 1t, and i'll
the body of it Il long box, covered with
a cloth
She knew what that meant as soon
as her eye caught it. 1t was Wade
her boy, her baby, her only son !
They were bringing him home to her.
Her tired arms nearly let go their
hold.
They were driving up in front of
the house now. They had gotten out
silently and were carrying the long
box i'll. She could hear the shuffiing
of their feet.
"'Oh, Wade, my little son. she
moaned, sis this your homecoming !"
Her mind went through all the tor
ments we feel when our dear ones are
taken from us-that all mothers know
for their sons who go astray. Would
it have been different if she had been
firmer, if she had been more lenient,
if she had followed him at once when
she failed to hear oh, the tragedy of
those "ifs."
She thought of dropping to the
ground and ending it all there, but
she longed to see the face of her boy
in the coffin.
Tom Andrews peeped cautiously ont |
of the back door, and she called softly |
to him.
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