The Canton times. (Canton, Miss.) 1893-1906, 1895-07-05

| SOulunt you possibly nnu suDSt
tute for her?'
Bob scorned to answer the imputs
ton of disloyalty.
Who are you, anyhow" he demand
ed Come from the city, guess"
Eyes, my name is Mark Finley, an
| live in Boston. Who are you?"
"Oh, I'm Bob Burke, the cigarmak
er's nephew! I'm the worst chap il
town, am" with defiant toss of tn
head.
Indeed" said Finley, with affected
concern; Il should never have though
| it."
''Oh, yes. I'm the worst fellow goin'
for Robin birds nests, and tormentin
people, and stealin, and all that!
smoke, too"
$50 do l." said Finley, laughing,
land no one calls me bad"
Bob was pleased.
Say, now, do you? And don't you
get blowed for it, honest? I'm SO bad
don't give rap what people say
that is, 'ceptin' Helen"
who is Helen?"
"Helen is my little sister, and she's
lame, too Kind O makes big fellow
like me feel 'shamed to make a sick
girl cry. aud that's just what she does
when I'm worsen common. She. says
| hadn't oughter smoke"
Il agree with Helen" said Mark;
but not so much because l disapprove
of smoking as because you may injure
your voice.
''Ho! no! that's good. Think my
voice is worth savin'?'
Mark had been turning over plan
in his mind, and now he said, very Sc
riously: Bob, | think this much of
your voice: If you will go back with
me to Boston / will see that you have
good room to live in; you shall have
good things to wear, and your voice
shall be trained, and some day you
will become famous singer"
The blue eyes opened wider as the
inducements multiplied. Bob was
serious, too, now.
believe you're jokin',' he said.
Honor bright, I'm not" returned
Finley.
and all that, but Helen told me once it
I'D be fine thing to take singin' les |
sons She said l could sing pretty |
good
And right she was, Bob. l know |
what I'm saying, and l tell you you
will be famous yet. Will you come"
The shocky hair fell over the bent |
ace, half concealing it. Bob was dig
ring his toes violently into the ground
it was his way when excited.
You don't want me, " he said, slowly.
I'm the worst boy in town. Ask any
'ody; they'll tell you So"
But | do want you. Will you go?'
go? O. course l will" The blue
yes looked up through tears that had
come, in spite of the little
hap's best efforts. I'm no burned
Dol, to miss chance of takin' singin
Bob mopped desperately at
is eyes with his coat-sleeve. II
uess | amt much better'n a girl
tut it sorter takes me back to have
nybody speak kind to me. Gen'ally 1
it cuffed. Anyhow, Mr.-what'd
GU say your name was?-Mr. Finley, 1
OF ter go home an see what Helen
lys first"
Right you are, Bob, and we will
art to-day" and off went the raga-
uffin and the millionaire to Master
ebert Burkes little home, where the
ncle fell in with Finley's overtures
18th readiness that had something
ncanny in it, and the little lame sister
ept and kissed Bob a score of good
US, binding him with promises of a
'eedy visit home, and not to forget
er, and, above all, to be honorable /
I'd good.
So it came about that Mark Finley {
turned to Boston with protege in 9
w, to become the object of good-na- I
red chatf and the butt of friendly '
sting. Il
AS matter of fact, when Bob made s
S promises he had every intention of q
,eping them. Helen should be posted f
: weekly and perhaps daily letters of I
S changed conditions He even out l
he'd little scheme of correspondence E
his mind as the train dashed along a
Boston, and pictured to himself the S
easure it was going to give his sister to v
ad his elaborate accounts Of what he h
d and saw about town. He half en-
ed her the joy that was in store from e
ose letters. +
rhe fulfillment of his promises proved /,
entirely different proposition. 1t a
rs certainly not caused by any lack of il
terest on the sisters part, for she al
lys insisted, in her wonderfully e.
ompt replies-written in the prim- /,
st of hands, with Dear, Dear Bob" 4.
the beginning, and an invariable S
s. at the close-that she was not Il