Evening capital., 1899-11-23
TWO WAITS

were indignant over the WnOle maItHs
and the little delicatesssen shop down
under the shadow of the big brewery.
became. more than ever. the cynosure
of many watchful eyes.
''The poor old man." remarked Mrs.
Nagle, whose volume of voice was
equaled only by the portliness OF her
person. The lessons it teaches us is
remarkable. Respect for the gray
hairs-that's what say. And I'll say
it again. I'll learn my Mickey, IL my
arm gifts weary In the doing OF 1t,
never to be disrespectful. When Pat
dies-that should dare even to think
of it-Mickey'll get the truck-and a
good business there goes with 1t, too"
Right you are, Mrs. Nagle," loudly
declared Mrs. O'Connor, of the third
floor back on the fire-escape corner.
Its a sin and a shame, indeed and it
is--for Annie and her man to wear the
life and the heart out of her old dad
and the poor motherless kid. Even If
old John is shaky and slow, there Is,
as you say. Mrs. Nagle, some respects
due from child to father. Indeed, and
I'll tell Annie so meself, when me
chants comes"
And what is it, Maggie O'Connor,
you'll so kindly tell Annie when the
chance comes?" 1t was a loud voice
that carried this question to the
startled women, and sneer went with
it, and a hint of quick anger near at
hand. I'm here, and I'll listen with
pleasure"
Smiling trifie, as she saw the other
womans face grow red and heard her
high-pitched voice dwindle into an
apologetic murmur the newcomer
placed her hands on her lips, and stood
in waiting silence. She was about 40
years of age-handsome in a coarse,
black style, but in voice and face as
hard as the doorstep upon which she
stood.
The silence was only a prelude, in.
troduced for that effect which comes
from contrast. 1t lasted for moment
only.
YES" and the dark brows scowled
fiercely, you women blow around be-
hind my back, and when I'm here to
face you, you back down like scared
rabbits. You can crawl back to your
holes now, and if | hear any more OF
this talk you'll both be sorry for 1t
afterward. That's ALL Better look
after your own kid, Mrs. OConnor,
who's thief and sneak, like his own
mother, Mrs. Maggie O'Connor"-and
with this winged shaft she turned
about IN true Hell's Kitchen contempt,
went into her little shop, banged the
door to show her freedom from the
smaller restrictions of social life, and
left the vanquished gossips to vanish
as they might
A moment later, when the coast was
clear, there came to the door of Annie
Mcqueen, delicatessen purveyor to the
neighborhood, two pathetic figures
so unlike in years. and yet in all other
ways so like, that one knew by in
stinct that they would be drawn to
gether The one was an old, old man;
old not only in years, but from long
poverty and weary labor; the other a
boy of ten, so tiny for his years, sc
pinched and weakened and underfed
that he seemed more ancient than the
other.
There was fear upon the faces OF
both and that stamped the likeness
more distinctly. Bitter experience
had taught them that there was cause
for fear.
The door opened, and Annie stood
before them. Her words were not the
mere half-meant expressions that are
recognized as safety-valves for disap
pearing anger; they were cudgels, ano
brought the blood with every blow.
Out of my way, you beggars," she
shouted. You good-for-nothings who
are always ready for your meals, but
good for nothing else" She reached
forth a heavy hand, and gave the boy
a stinging blow. He WINGED only Q
little-hourly custom can make one
used to anything-moyed away lit
tie to one side, forced back the tears
and looked for courage into his grand
fathers face.
The old man looked into his daugh
ter's eyes for breaking of the clouo
lit sometimes chanced that way.
= Now, Annie" he began feebly, but
she turned upon him In very fury OF
wrath.
You old sot," she screamed, "get
out of my sight this minute. Yes, ]
mean 1t, and mean it for the two OF
yez. Move on, say" and she banged
the door too, turned the key in the
lock, and left them together.
Together. Well, there was world
of comfort in the thought. The little
cripple and the decrepit old man were
usually the happiest twain in the
world, when left alone together. They
walked together, and they talked to
gether, usually in the little park
among the tenements, or on the Cocks
of the great Hudson, down beyond the
grain elevators. But there was al
ways this flaw in their serenest hap
piness: they could not forget the
shadow of that heavy hand at home
nor the echo of that cruel voice that
would greet them at the door.
AS the door slammed too, old John
said gently to the tired child: We'll
boy, we'll go over to the park for a
spell. guess we don't need our sup
per as much as we thought we did
We can have a good time a-lookin' at
the stars and a-countin' of 'em like we
did the other night; and then when
Aunt Annie feels bit smoother wen
slip in, soft like, and perhaps when
morning comes she'll be over her mad.
ness" He struck a light for his old
clay pipe and sighed softly: Its toe
bad sne's so cross-tempered, amt it
Johnny? You and me gets the heft
of it, and it's tough at times. Eh
Johnny"
Hard usage had made OF Johnny a
philosopher, after Nature had made
him a poet. So he smiled into the
troubled face of the old man. and as
he limped along she thought of the
manifold and changing glories OF the
little park. where the scarlet tulips
stood in such straight rows, ready fol
the signal. he told himself, to march