The Wilmington daily Republican., 1899-08-03

he was always asking afther your foine
young son at the university"
Old Patrick bumped his shoulders
and muttered: "Things- was different
thin. I'm thinking mesef that he
wants to be CREASED. and Tommy won t
grease himl'
Mrs Fitzmaurice. as innocent soul
az ever was sent into wicked world,
had lived too long With Patrick not to
understand. She sighed. ''Is he loike
that. thini didn't think it. And is
MI. Paulsen the samef"
II guess not"--with short laugh
"you couldn't buy Paulsen any more
than You could coax mule with
greenback. Oh. he's honest, but he's
obstinate, and it's loike mule that
way too. You niver know which end Of
him is going to kickl Harry Losing
was tilling me be mistrustsd he'd be
fighting u.s."
"Well, you'll find Tommy'll match
him." said the mother confidently, to
which the father only grunted. being,
however, like many husbands. secretly
cheered by his wifs's unreasoning hope.
But she, poor woman, staid awake
all night wondering whether indeed she
had jeoparded her sons prospects by
sending him away and struggling dark
ly in her mind after some way to reach
the incorruptible and obstinate Paulsen.
Tommy. meanwhile. had gone easily to
Chicago, and the next morning. having
found the box, was lettering with a
conscience at rest among hundred odd
people who were at the sale Of "un-
claimed and seized merchandise" in the
government warehouse. Next to Tom
my stood yellow haired young man
with his hat on the back Of his head
and pad bulging his breast pocket.
Tommy and he were the only persons
present not bidding.
"Live in Chicagos' said the young
man.
Tommy. fiattered by the inference.
ehook his head and named his town.
"Pretty town." said the young man.
II used to live there / used to be on
The Evening Scimitar. Now"-he
flung his coat open, disclosing his re-
porter's badge. Tommy read the name
of the great city paper with tinge Of
respect. The reporter asked questions
about familiar names, ending with
Tommy's own personality. "Fitzmau.
riceY Fitzmahrice? You AREN'T
"I'm Patrick Fitzmaurice's son. "
eaid Tommy composedly. "His place
was down on Third street..
The reporter eyed Tommy askance.
He could not place this well dressed, well
hammered young man, with his hand
some Irish Norman face (that clean
cut. delicate face, which is no more like
the carcatures of the Irish Celtic face
than-the newspaper Celt is like the
man himselD; he knew Pat Fitz-
maurice's place, but here was a flower
from a saloon window; he did not quite
know how to take Tommy's calmness.
~ must have been out at the uni
versity when you were there" said
Tommy, still unconscious. "for l don't
remember you"
"They had son at school Mrs. Fitz-
maurice used to tell me about him |
hope your mother is well Mr.. Fitz-
maurice, she was an angel of mercy to
me one awfully cold night when was
out on an assignment about a fire, got
wet through and my clothes froze on
me. went in and she made me hot
coffee herself. She said was too young
for whisky, loaned me some of your
clothes. by the way, to get home in
all not knowing l wasn't reeling off q
lie to her.
"Well, the clothes came back, y said
Tommy. 81 heard about it Mothers
always up to such tricks.'
"Mothers are big thing. They keep
fellow sure there's some good left in
the world. And yours was one of the
motherliest mothers going"
Tommy blushed with pleasure. but
could think of nothing better than to
hand the reporter cigar And it was
Just at this softened moment that his
eyes fell on an old woman who had just
entered. She was poorly clad in worn.
limp black skirt, made short enough to
lhow her coarse shoes. and basque Of
that unchanging model affected by eld-
erly German women of the humber
kind The hair under the old fashioned
bonnet was gray, almost white, She
walked in with quick step, like one in
haste, her dim eyes wandering anxious
ly over the array Of boxes on the plat
form Then she whispered to the young
girl at her side, who seemed to be
servant and was comely, fresh colored.
honest looking lass in the cheap travesty
If the fashion that so soon replaces the
rusty old blue stufls in this country
The girl glanced about her and after a
seconds hesitation whispered to Tom
my, "Is dose t'ings on der platform all
vat dey is sole?
$50 far says Tommy, Eyes,
ma am He spoke the last words to
the old woman and smiled reassuring.
ly She seemed SO feeble. so agitated
and so lost among the crowd of idle
men and junk dealers that he was
minded to comfort her
She gave him grateful glance. Her
bands were clasped, one over the ether
Tley were hands disfgured and rough.
ened by toll, with the prominent veins
and distorted knuckles and withered
cleanliness Of years over the washtab.
Tommy remembered how in his youth
he had resolved that one day his piother
should have white, soft hands, like the
mother of his school friend, Harry Loss
ing, and how he had spent some of his
very first earnings in weird ass0rt-
ment of cosmetics which his mother
faithfully used.
His mothers hands were white now,
and there were rings on them. But
Tommy remembered how they used "
look.
Lot after lot was disappearing and
being bundled down to the new owners
The old woman, who had slowly re-
gained composure, all at once rose sud.
denly from her seat and instantly sank
back again, clutching tho purse in her
hand. Her face had gone dull gray.
tho streaks Of red were ebbing sowly
from her cheek. Tommy heard her thin
elderly pipe, Zone dollar" "one dol