The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1897-05-08
THE RIVALS.

eyes, SIR That old shuntin engine that q
putin IN snortin like broken winded old
horse could tell tale, If 1t wasn't 80 short
o. breath. That's the very engine old John
Wright used to drive when was his stoker.
Let me see--I've been drivin three year
aye, it'll be ten year come next September.
He was fine figure Of man, was John.
He stood foot n In his stockin's, an was
broad in the shoulders too In his greasy
peaked cap an oily blue jacket he looked a
giant. Flo was queer un. used to tell
him he needed wife to look after him.
Ha, hal He always made his tea wi wa.
ter out o. TIL engine boiler, an when !
laughed at him he d slap me on the back,
an say, What's good for the horse is good
for the rider, Harry He was rare old
sort"
WAS no an old man2''
ooh, no; he'd be 40 odd, suppose, but
Twas young man Of %. an he seemed old,
like, to me. AS I've said, he was a baehe-
lor, an, as far as knew, likely to remain
one There wasn't much of the ladies'
man about John. But still waters run
deep, they say, an John Wright had his
little secret
about three mile out O. town, used
to notice that he whistled three times and
always looked across couple O. fields a bit
farther on, as II he were lookin for some
thin. asked him once or twice what IL
was, but no edged me off, an changed the
subject, SO I didn't press 1t. But kept
my eyes open.
ut was early winter when first went
on to stoke for John, an, of course, bein a
goods train, 1t was generally gettin on for
O'Clock at night when we passed this par
tic'lar spot, bound for Barnham, 80 mile
away. It's up bank, as dare say you
know, from here to Longbridge, eight
mile up tho line, an we never got any great
speed on until we'd passed that length, es-
pecially when we'd heavy freight. But
all could make out for some months was
the dim outline Of a cottage that had an
up stairs window with red blind. The
cottage lay couple o. fields away. What
made me. notice the red blind was that, as
we passed, the window was always sudden
ly lighted up.
AYE, on SO was John Wright face soon
as ever he saw it. Such smile-an he
had kind face, had old John--an then
he'd seem lost bit, as If he were thinkin
O. something as was good to think about.
II couldn't make 1t out, for you see I
looked on John us musty, crusty old
bachelor, for oil he were such good sort
But the light nights let the secret out. It
were no use of his keepin his tongue tied
then; for there, in tn little front garden,
across them two little fields, was pink
frock, an sunbonnet an a little hand fiut-
term bit Of bankychief as we passed
every night, as true as the clock.
II chatfed John rarely about it, first
timo l saw 1t, an he blushed-ho did In
deed, sirl Though his face was grimy on
the top and copper color under that, I'll
swear he blushed. But he looked pleased
an proud, for, by that time, we'd grown
such thick friends that I'm sure he didn't
mind me KNOWN.
Then, bit by bit, it all came out. John
and her father, who used to be pointsman
at Chubb junction, half mile farther up
the line than the cottage, had been lads
together. John had gone up for camp
every Sunday for many year. He'd
known Mary Mathers since she was born,
an when she was little lass he'd nursed
her on his knee, an told her he'd wait for
her, I dare say he meant 1t in fun at the
time, but, as che grew up, he knew he
liked to be where she was better than any
where else in the world. That's how he
put 1t, sir. Then Tom Mathers, her fa-
ther, fell ill, an learnt afterward an
guessed even then, that John Wright made
his wages keep four instead Of one. Mary's
father never worked again. He was on his
back for Is months. an then he died
IAN then, you may be sure, John was
father to the fatherless, an husband to
the widow-as far as lookin after 'em
went, at any rate-only he wanted to be q
husband to the daughter, Mary OF course,
I learnt this bit by bit, an l can't help
fllin in things as come to my ears years
after, for John was never the man to blow
his own trumpet. Ha, hal He was well
content WI the steam whistle-especially
when passing Railway cottage. Poor Johnl
well, to cut long story short, Mary
seemed to make no objection. Why should
shep She'd never met anybody she liked
better, and finer fellow than John Wright
never walked He got her to promise to
light the lamp In the room wi the red
blind on dark nights as he passed on his
engine, nm to give him wave of her hand
On light nights, for he said 1t was some
thin to be goin on with like. He'd touch
y sentiment In him, had John, aye, be
had that
lone Saturday night he says, Harry,
you'd better walk DER wi me tomorrow
Walk DER wi you, says 'WhereP'
Why, to Mrs. Mathers, to be sure.
I'd like you to know my Mary. An then
you can tell mo what you think o. my
sweetheart An as he said it that sweet,
ar off look came in his face, an I knew
le loved that lass as few lasses are loved.
well, went, an wished ut the time
I'd staid away. 1t was love at first sight
VI me, IN felt 1 should never, never be
he same again. God forgi' nc, but after
hat Sunday felt at times hated John
Wright, When she stood at the stilo at
he crossing midway between the cottage
N the signal box-as she did every evenin
rom the very day went wi John-an
waved her hand to him. bashfullike an he
brew her clumsy kiss, l felt could ha'
Knocked him of the engine.
II fought again tan, you must I'M
erstand, ! didn't feel that way all the
ime, for we were good friends, an no one
7ould have seen difference. But when
@ talked of her in his quiet way-of bein
red IN such like-it was like knives in
lie.
"Then no pressed me to 60 again an