The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1898-03-23
modestly. stTruly you must be fond O

tion for man to make fools laugh at
30 much week. Each man to his taste. y
'tI am sorry" said Peter-and indeed
he was" that we may not ask strangers
behind the scenes, but SO it is, for you
might like to see how curiously dull is
the seamy side of players life. Bat
may we not meet again??' he asked i'm
pulsiveiy.
Peters s1hdued earnestness was more
than aattering, and he was a handsome,
sunny eyed lad in spite Of his dandyism.
After a moments thought the stranger
took his hand.
Lett be so, young lad. Tcmorrow,
then, at o'clock at the Kings Arns, .
he said.
ssTbank you, sir, and very good
morning to you, said Peter, with his
best stage bow. He retraced his steps,
very well pleased with himself and
with the world in general.
Success attends, me, he thought.
&c Now Will he turn out hero? He is a
proper man indeed, and with 10 COM
mon history, III be bound.
That night the stranger was again at
the playhouse, and the next evening at
the appointed time Peter walked up the
street leading to the Kings Arms, a
coffee house patronized by the patrician
class. He had taken particular pains
with his toilet. His wig, neatiy comb
ed and curled, was tied with a new rib
bon. He had also sewed fresh ruf6es
around the frayed edges of his sleeves
and turned the silver hatband best side
ont.
It was quite dark, and the lanterns
suspended from the houses were being
lit along the narrow up hill streets. He
quickened his steps as be neared the
coffee house, for he saw the familiar fig
ure in the long cloak and scallop hat
standing in the gray moonlight, the
white turbaned Hindoo erect and tire
less by his side.
AS they pushed open the two leaved
door and entered, cheery scene greeted
them. Small, social looking tables and
benches were scattered about the bare
" furnished room. a large fire Of res
inous logs burned in the tiled fireplace,
throwing a 6azzling light upon the
sanded floor Near il stood the glisten
ing coffee and tea pots. Men we're gath
cred in laughing groups about bar in
one corner. drinking, ale from long
mugs. Others sat reading or confden-
tally conversing at the different tables
One of his majesty's players near the
FIRE was singing catch, which a few
of the merries5 gentlemen appreciatiye-
II applauded:
stEey, uonny no!
Men are fools that wish to die.
Is't not fine to dance and sing
When the bells of death do ring?
Is't not fine to swim in wine
And turn upon The toe
And sing, hey, ronny no,
When the winds blow and the seas fow?
Fey, nonny no!''
Passing slowly between the scattered
groups, Peter noticed his new friend
looking into the face ct every man with
the qniet, intent eage-ness he had no.
ticed before, end he wondered what it
could mean. His gaze was too meas
ured, too direct, to be accidental, and
some Of the men who encountered it
lifted their brows, Locked curiously aft
er him and fell to whispering with one
another.
e.Let US sit in yonder dim corner and
have dish OF coffee together, y said the
stranger, throwing back his long cloak
and taking the seat which faced the
door.
The Hindoo stood behind him, his
arms folded on his breast and his SOM
ber. unreadable eyes fizsd patiently
ahead. Peter glanced at him once, and
a cold feeling of apprehension stole owe,
him. For whom was he waiting? For
whom was his master looking. What
was the secret they guarded in common:
s.Now, I pray you, tell me your
name. It is meet we should know some
thing Of each other,'' said the stranger.
"My name is Peter Ricket. y
"And your age?" continued the other,
looking dreamily at him as the serving
man placed the coffee before them.
81 was 18 on last Twelfth Night. "
ssDo you never grow weary of play
er's life?''
''In faith do. sir. l would rather be
a gentleman" said Peter laughingly.
''Well, and you can. I like you. be-
iieve in you. need secretary on my
estate, to which return shortly. Come
and be also my friend" said the
stranger, laying his white, scholarly
hand on Peters ana smiling into the
lads astonished face.
''Ah, sir, said Peter warmly, 81
would desire it above all things, but
my learning is small. I command RI
diculous penmanship.
3'What matters that:" asked the
stranger and then continued with
new earnestness: Upon the stage your
face and voice attracted me from the
first. Something in your personality ap-
peals to me powerfully. You are so