The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1895-09-18
MARY'S MISSION.
BY w. ]. HENDERSON.

time. He rose with nervous energy
and went to the window.
He gazed into the street and saw
children, children, children-every-
where children-laughing, running
skipping and generally disporting
themselves with the amiable idiocy
of youth;
it2" muttered the professor, drum
ming on the window with his eye
glasses. ''What put it into my sis
ter's head that I would be the best
person in the world to take care of
her child9 Why didn't her husband
outlive her9 Why did she die?
The whole thing has been simply a
plan to break up my-hem! I don't
mean that I suppose poor Jane
would have lived if she could.
But what am to do with three
year-old child in my bachelor quar-
ters2 I don't know, I'm sure. If
Mottsboro were big city perhaps it
wouldn't be so bad. But in mis-
erable little village like this, where
everyone's business is known to
everyone else, 1 shall be driven mad,
know I shall"
As he stood gazing out of the win
dow across the green stretch of level
green lawn and over the snowy pick
cts of the well kept fence he became
aware of face at the window of the
next house.
"Oh, mercy" exclaimed the pro-
fessor, half aloud, what will she
Think I never spoke to her but
once, and that was at Mrs. Barbey's
lawn party, where I was introduced
to her. Then she said it was pretty
sight, and I answered Yes, it looks
like rain
II couldn't help it. She was so
beautiful, and I was so-so-so
modest-or-bashful-o idiotic-or
something"
1t is quite true. Ever since Prof.
Arthur Brewster, instructor in math-
ematics and astronomy at the Motts-
boro high academy, had been pre-
sented to Miss Mabel Riker he had
never dared to speak to her again.
She had passed him on the street
often and had always greeted him
with pleasant smile and bow, but
he never dared to do more than lift
his hat awkwardly and hasten on,
He would have given a months
salary to find courage to say some
thing, and years for the audacity
to join her in her walk. But he real
lied that courage was not a purchase
BILE commodity.
She saw him at the window and
smiled, whereupon he retired into the
room with great celerity.
Her smile always frightened him.
It always made him feel as if his heart
had jumped out of place.
He had nearly recovered from his
alarm when the aged woman who
acted as housekeeper, cook and gen
eral servant in his small cottage
knocked at the door and on entering
said:
''There's man here wild a child"
'Oh, Lord, it's come" said the
on his brow.
He went down into the sitting
room and there he found the express
messenger. The professor did not
dare to take his eyes off the man lest
they should fall on the queer bundled
up object on the sofa.
r., Professor" said the messenger,
heres the kid, safe and sound.
Brought 'er all tho way myself. She's
q Jim dandy, she is. Her trunk is in
the wagon. Wot'n I do with it9"
Bring it in and put it in the small
room upstairs
While the man was out of the
room the professor walked to the
empty fireplace and stood gazing into
it, painfully aware that his very
movement was solemnly observed by
two coal black eyes.
He could not have told how he
knew they were black, but he was
morally certain of it.
The man returned with the trunk
and deposited in the small room be-
side brand new iron bedstead.
That's all O. K, professor, said
the man, pocketing certain bills. 81
hope you'll! like the lid, for she's a
jim dandy"
A strange intonation in the mans
voice caused the professor to tremble.
There was a dismal silence for sew
eral minutes and then a high pitched
treble voice said:
is you my Uncle Arturo"
The professor started, turned and
found the eyes looking up at him.
Ihere was no mistake; they were
as black as a crows wing. So was the
halr that hung in tangles around the
olive brow.
The lips were red enough and the
teeth white enough, but those eyes
were dreadful.
'I am your uncle, Mary" he said,
feebly.
mamma said you'd be dood to me =.
Mammals dead"
There was a queer monotonous
pathos in the speech. The professor
felt new emotion. He did not
know what it was, but it made him
bend down and lay his hand gently
on the child's head as he said.
iii be good to you, Mary"
."'Den take off my fings."
This was more than the professor
had bargained for, so he called the old
woman. But the child refused to be
touched by her.
'.Do way" she said, with a most
malignant expression; "do way.
Wants Uncle Art'ur to be dood to me.
Don't want ole womans. I scratch ole