The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-04-24
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she asked, again putting her arms
round his neck, but looking into his
face as though she loved every curve
and impress on it.
81 could not touch it, would be so
disappointed" he said, taking off her
hat and kissing her forehead. He al
ways called her his little sweetheart;
but every one else called her Barclay,
name she had given herself when
she was very little.
1t was in queer corner of a still
queerer room in this tall tower that
they sat down by a narrow table
pushed close to the wall to enjoy
their feast.
A hanging cupboard, from which
couple of spoons, some salt and
knife were taken, suggested certain
housekeeping arrangements, while on
the table were pen, ink and paper,
with a book or two, evidently taken
from the hanging shelves in another
corner. Indeed, there were only cor
ners in which to hang things, for the
sides of the room were great windows
looking over the city in all directions.
But the most curious thing in this
curious room was the great bell
reaching almost from the ceiling to
the floor; a tongueless, clapperless
bell, that had made no motion of any
kind since the day it had been placed
in position, many, many years ago.
Hanging in another corner was the
iron hammer that, guided by the
hand of him who watched in the
tower, struck on the rim of the great
bell those clear, loud notes that kept
record of the passing of time over
the alternately waking and sleeping
city. The fourth corner held the tall,
old fashioned clock, as old as the bell
itself, that had served in all that time,
| to tell the exact moment when the
| town clock must strike. To Barclay
it was matter of great interest; for
its face was always changing as it told
of the moon and the tides and the
seasons.
"Barbay," said her father when,
their feast over, he saw rapidly ap-
preaching storm; much as | love to
have you here, | must send you home
now as fast as you can go. You
would not like to be way up here in
such storm as those angry looking
clouds are bringing u.s."
"Oh, father" said Barclay, 81 should
not mind anything where you are.
Let me stay, please. love to watch
the clouds play hide and seek from
here"
He looked at her hesitatingly mo-
ment, and as he did so sudden flash
of lightning almost blinded them,
while great drops of rain splashed on
| the windowsills. There was hardly
time to close the windows before the
flashing and booming of the heaven
ly artillery began; for it was one of
those storms that come suddenly,
only to leave sad story behind.
To Barclay it was grand and beau
tiful. Itseemed as though she could
look right into Heaven if the flashes
would only last longer, she seemed
so close to it. She could not talk,
but looked occasionally at her father,
who smiled on her from his seat in
the great easy chair for which mother
had made soft, comfortable cushions.
Suddenly she wondered what made
her feel so queer, and why she was
on the floor. She must have been
asleep. She picked herself up and
wondered what made her go to sleep
all in moment. And father, why he
had fallen asleep in his chair too
Dear father, he looked so white and
tired; but then he had been the
Town Clock all day and all night, SO
that Mr.. Harper could be at home
with his little baby boy.
Would he sleep long and get
rested? she wondered. Before father
came the Town Clock had fallen
asleep and, failing to strike the hour
on time, had been discharged. 1t
gave her such happy, helpful feel
ing to think she was here now to wake
father in time. She was so glad she
had stayed. She would let him rest
few moments longer, but it would
soon be time for the town clock to
strike.
She stood at one of the windows
and looked down, down on the busy
city, then up at the rapidly moving
clouds, already being kissed by the
sun, as he babe them a loving good
night. She loved to watch him from
here as, his days work done, he slow
ly disappeared from view, leaving such
beautiful and hopeful promises be.
hind Rut hetter still she loved to