The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1897-06-11

OSA~0 0AC6OAyp anu AfSS O1A A4ShAA4P
ton street." he murmured. sit surely
must be Margaret's child. Good Godi
Margaret and her child wanting
breadp'
A half hour later Mark Davis was
making his way up the stairs to the
floor upon which Mrs. Gregory's rooms
were situated. His knock at the first
door was answered by red-faced
woman.
''Mis' Gregory, is it you air. want
imp she asked sharply. And it's no
bad news you air after bringin' her,
hope"
Il wanted to deliver some groceries
a friend has sent herr
The clouded face cleared as if by
magic. Heavens blessin' be ON your
head, then! Mis- Gregory, she's gone
out, but I've her key here, and will un-
lock the door. That's her by, and a
swate child he isl
Mark eagerly looked at the pink and
white face Of the boy. He held out
great golden orange, and little Royce
sprang for it, his childish laugh echoing
through the room. Then the grocer
followed Mrs. Donovan to the home of
Margaret Gregory.
1t was a bare place, but clean and
neat Mark sighed as he noted the
signs Of abject poverty. While the de-
liveryman was bringing up the parcels.
Mrs. Donavan yolubly explained that
Mrs. Gregory had gone to try to get
money due her. The warm-hearted
Irish woman had surmised that fortune
was at low ebb with her neighbor,
partly because of little Royce's unusual
fretfulness, which had been quieted by
a huge slice of bread and butter.
"She's worked her precious fingers
most to the bone," she concluded, "but
works scarce, and don't know what's
ever goin' to become of her and her
babies"
The wood soon came. Florence's half
cord had been REINFORCED by whole
cord, perhaps because she had written
her cousin that the needy widow was a
protege of Miss Snelrs.
As to Lilian's order for groceries.
Mr.. Davis had added to it sack of
-four, ham, coffee, tea, sugar, apples,
cookies, cheese, canned fruits and
meats, and a big bag of candy.
Mrs. Donovan went back to her own
room, and the wagons rolled away.
Mark hastily built fire, then sat down
to think how best to explain the liberty
he had taken.
The bare room faded from his vision
as he sat there. In its place came an
old country garden overgrown with
roses and clematis. 1t was June, and
the air was heavy with the scent of
many blossoms. By his side was
beautiful girl in whose curls the sun
shine seemed entangled. He bent low
er, and the rose-red lips Of his COM
panion murmured, 81 love you, Mark"
Still lower his head sank until his lips
touched the ones that had uttered the
sweet words.
A start, and he sat upright, glancing
around him. That was ten years ago.
He was poor then, and Margaret, beau
tiful Margaret Henson, had been the
only daughter Of wealthy home. So
their engagement had been forbidden.
They parted, vowing eternal constancy.
A year later Margaret became the wife
Of Vance Gregory, but it was not until
months after that Mark learned Of the
treachery and deceit that had been
employed to urge her to that step.
1t was too late then. There was
nothing to do but to endure.
He had known for some time that
Margaret was a widow and lived In the
city. He knew nothing of her poverty,
supposing that her means were ample.
To go to her now with a story Of love
had never occurred to him. She knew
nothing of what had parted them. He
could not blacken the memory of the
man who had been her husband, the
father of her children.
He sprang to his feet. There was no
need of an explanation. He passed out,
pausing for final word with Mrs.
Donayan.
'Tell Mrs. Gregory the things came
from the teachers at No. g."
ITO be sure, Mr.. Davis" responded
the woman, who had recognized Mark,
"I'll tell her all bout it. And many
the blissin's of all the saints rest on
your dear head!'
ing silver dollar in Royce's hand.
1t was only few minutes after his
departure that thinly clad woman
came toiling wearily up the stairs. 1t
was Margaret Gregory. The woman
who owed her was out of town. The
needy mother had applied at several
places for work, only to meet with re-
fusal. Then she had gone to store
and begged for credit, but in vain.
She had reached the end. There was
but one way open. She would ask Mrs
Donavan to give her children their din
ner When she had rested and con-
quered the bitter rebellion in her heart
she would go out again and apply to
the city for charity.
Margaret Gregory was proud. She
was already faint for the want of food,
yet she turned In loathing from the
thought of meal obtained In that way.
1t would be worse than death, but
death does not come at ones call, and
there were her babies.
A dry sob burst from her lips. She
passed Mrs. Donavan's door in silence.
She must have moment to herself
before she could ask charity Of one so
poor as her kind neighbor. Hurrying
on, she pushed open her own door,
A bright fire was blazing in the crack
ed stove. Mrs. Donavan had prepared
potatoes for the oven and cut slices
ready for frying from the ham. The
open door of the wood closet showed
huge pile, while the table was heaped
high with food.
For moment she stood gazing Wild
ly around her. Then she dropped on
her knees, and with shower of tears
relieved her oyerwrought nerves.