The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1897-08-27

had resisted the overtures Of mission
aries and sneered at prison chaplains,
found himself suddenly overcome by a
little ten-year-old boy who was dying
of starvation in a miserable garret. He
scoffed and swore at himself as he did
it, but it became regular thing for him
to bring oranges and sometimes grapes
on his return to the garret at night.
And John Endleton hated it. He re-
sented it fiercely and shrank back when
Jem Brooker approached the bed and
looked down at Jackie's face.
As the winter passed into the spring
Jackie seemed to grow weaker instead
shilling in his pocket, John Endleton
set off in desperation for doctor. If
anything happened to the boy he would
have nothing to live for, and the
thought seemed to choke him. But he
knocked at the doctors door without
success. The doctor was busy-too busy
to attend to him until night, and when
night came he had forgotten all about
it, and Jackie lay in a half fever, moan
ing and tossing restlessly from side to
side, while Endleton sat over him with
rage at his heart.
When. towards morning, Jem mount
ed the crealling stairs in his usual half
drunken fashion and staggered into the
garret, he found Endleton sitting by
the side of the mattress with his face in
his hands. A pale moon sent shaft of
light on to the boys sleeping face, and
it looked white and drawn and cold,
as if already the shadow of death lay
upon it.
Jem stopped in drunken surprise. A
stupid grin crossed his face. He stared
and waved his arm wildly in the air.
He tried to speak, but his voice was
hoarse with brandy, and the figures of
the boy and his father danced before his
eyes by the dozen.
He muttered some words-indistin-
| guishabie and meaningless; and, col
| lapsing suddenly, he tumbled down on
his mattress and huddled himself to-
gether in drunken sleep.
When he awoke a gray dawn was
PNtPiiieo SApNIJ III I'M luC SIlIuIl
square of glass in the roof and every
thing in the dingy garret appeared un-
real and lifeless. The boy on the bed
seemed scarcely to breathe.
Jem raised himself on his elbow and
looked round, and some remembrance
of the last nights scene began to pass
through his mind. He looked, and it
seemed to him that John Endleton had
never moved. The moonlight had gone
from the boys face and the dawn had
come instead, but John Endleton was
still sitting there, huddled up on the
floor with his face buried in his hands.
Jeln lifted himself slowly from his
mattress and stretched himself with a
big yawn. Then he looked again at the
two in the corner, and after minute
got up and went towards them.
"Ain't the little 'un well?" he asked,
clumsily. ''Wot's up with 'un?"
John Endleton stirred impatiently.
The sound of the ex-convict's voice
seemed to rouse all his hatred and dis
gust. He looked round with repulsiou
upon his face, and Jem, seeing it,
shrugged his shoulders and sneered.
"Oh, well, if ye're so mighty hinde-
pendent an 'aughty, why don't yer TAX
lodgin's in TIL Grand? A-course if yer
don't want no 'elp 1 don't care. Only l
thought" he added, brutally, "as tn
chaps a dyin' like, as yer might want
somethin' for i'm
John Endleton started and looked
down at the boy, with his wan face,
with his thin hands and faltering
breath. For moment it seemed to his
excited Imagination that the boy had
ceased to breathe, and he leant for
ward hurriedly and with trembling fin
gers pulled back the sheet.
''He's all right! He's not dying!" he
exclaimed, eagerly. But at the same
time it was borne upon him that un-
less he had nourishing things to eat, and
those quickly, there would be no hope of
ever pulling him round again, and the
thought stabbed his heart with sudden
bitterness.
He turned to the burglar. 1t was pos
Sibie that Jem could help him. Jem
might know where to get help. or work,
or even charity; but Endleton's pride
still stood up in arms, and with de-
termination to have nothing to do with
him he turned away.
Jem, with a fierce sneer on his lips
and a burning hatred in his heart
against Endleton, turned away, too.
Not finger would he lift-not an inch
would he stir-not if the boy was dying
fifty times over!
AS he turned he caught sight of
Jackie's pallid face lying on the dirty
pillow.
"Oh, Lor', wot little blol1e it isl" he
thought and then he went out, stun
bling down the stairs, swearing to him.
self-a man apparently without the
faintest hope of better life, without
knowledge of anything except things
evil, and yet with one clean spot in his
black heart.
II.
Detective Hartly, prowling through
the East end in search of such thieves
and transgressors as he might with
dignity escort to the "lock-up," was
turning corner, when he suddenly be-
came aware that on the opposite side
of the street a familiar and not exact
ly pleasing figure was ambling along at