The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1898-12-10
VOL. XXXIV.--NO. 7.

Its all right he said ''And what
have YOU been doing with yourself? Starv-
ing, by the look of you. Father out of
work ?
Tilda nodded
II don't believe as you ought to be
out, she said
He looked at her with an odd express
sion in his eyes
Il told you l would come and sing to
yon again, he said
"Have you got far to get back? she
persisted earnestly ''Where do you
live p
AT Marmaduke Buildings he re-
turned lightly. 'But I don't think
shall be there long Tilda.
He was interrupted by fit of cough
ing which left him white and shaking, and
brought the tears into 'Tilda's eyes
You'll 90 home now, straight" she
pleaded, ''and have cup of hot tea? ?
| Do =
,'Nery we'll he said '.Good-bye
little thing. lie took her hand and held
it close for an instant, looking at her again
with that odd expression. He had dropped
her hand and turned away, when he took
IL shilling out Of his pocket and closed her
| fingers over it.
Dom make fuss = he said, hur-
riedly ''Carol-singing pays, you know,
And then he was gone.
He did not come the next day, and
Tilda tried blavely to possess her soul in
patience. Neither did the day following
bring him. And on the third day 'Tilda
could bear herself no longer. The recollec-
tion of his thin, white face, his cough, his
feeble voice, haunted her day and night.
He was i'll, she knew; he was lonely, she
felt sure; what if he were lying all alone
this Christmas time, with no one to take
care of him? What if he should die, and
she should never see him again?
1t was with these two thoughts dragging
at her heart-strings until she hardly knew
herself that Tilda' resolution was taken.
When all chance Of coming on that third
day was gone by, she moved from the
corner at the top of the street where she
had waited for him needless Of the icy cold,
and turned her back on George Street. with
her face white and set. She went out into
a main thoroughfare, and there she
stopped and spoke to a policeman.
"Please. where's Marmadukes Build |
ings?' she said
The policeman looked at her curiously. |
Don know the name about here, |
he said. There Marmadukes Build
ings at Noting Hill. "
(Which is the way?'' said Tilda.
He gave her some directions, and told
her to ask again, and 'Tilda thanked him
and set out
1t was a long way. To Tilda, unused
to London except as represented by the
immediate vicinity of George Street, it was
ajourney fraught with difficulty and danger
indeed. The streets, full and bustling
with Christmas traffic, bewidered her
The lights and the darkness alike confus-
ed her, and the noise made her giddy.
Again and again she lost her way and had
to retrace her steps. Again and again she
asked for directions, only to think despair
ingly that her destination was as far off as
ever. She was stiff with cold and faint
with WEAKNESS when at last her tremulous
question was answered by the words:
There y are, Right oppersite.
1t was a wretched looking place, dirty,
tumble-down court. But this was mat
ter of course to Tilda She had always |
known that he was very poor. She cross
,I l,o ,,ool Il 4
and then she hesitated moment. Her
purpose held as strong as ever, but it had |
suddenly occurred to her that she did not
know his name. 1t was late in the even
ing now, nearly nine o clock, and it hap
pened that there was nobody about at this
end of the court, though away in the dis
tance two or three men were standing |
about. But at this moment a little child |
with jug in his hand ran out of a door
close to her.
There a singer lives here said |
Iilda, as he passed her (Which house
is it?
The child stared at her for moment.
Him as goes round the streets p he
said. ''On your left there. Top back -
Then, being in too great a hurry to indulge
his evident curiosity he ran on.
The door of the house he had pointed to
was only half-closed, and without mo-
ment's hesitation 'Tilda pushed it open
and went in and up the stairs. She met
nobody, though she heard voices as of
women quarrelling and children crying.
Up she went, until she left the voices be-
hind, and stood before the door of the top
back in deep silence. She knocked
softly There was no answer She knock
ed again, louder this time. Still there was
no answer; not sound within the room.
'Tilda opened the door and went in.
There was no light within the room it
self; not even CLEAN of fire, and it struck
deadly cold A ray from the gas lamp
outside was all that T'ilda had to guide
her, except feeble, husky voice which,
from corner of the room, seemed to be
trying to find the notes of a Christmas
carol, 'Hark, the herald angels sing"
If Tilda had stopped to think about the
matter, it would have seemed to her that
she had known all the time how it would
be- But she did not stop to think She
groped her way until she found box con-
tanning two or three matches and an end
Of candle, which she lighted Then, with
the candle in her hand she turned to the
corner from which the voice came
The singer was lying, dressed as she had
seen him last, upon ragged, dilapidated
bed. His face was flushed and drawn,
and his eyes were wide open! For an
instant, as she met them, 'Tilda's heart
seemed to leap in her throat; they looked
so much as if he ''was himself, - as she
expressed it. Then she understood that
they did not see her. The hoarse, faint
notes of the carol went on and on