The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1899-11-07


against it. There on it's old hook
Janets mug was still hanging, her
name OH it, With sudden stab of
memory she thought of the night her
father had brought it home to her from
, the winter fair at Carbie, coming In
from the wonderful darkness, with
snowfakes on his coat, to his little girl
by the great fire; how blithe hau Oeen.
his dark eye. how CHEEKY and red the
middle of his cheek. She could still
feel his finger rough and cold beneath
her chin and the benediction of his
eyes looking down at her. But now
ah, Christ!
Mrs. Goudie had put away In the
window sill her great Bible and her
heavy white trimmed spectacles atop
of it. Janet was still standing.
"Sit doun," said her mother care
lessly.
! Janet sat down on the edge of a
chair close to the door. Rab, the cat
she had reared, was sitting near her in
blank band of sunshine lying
/ athwart the flags. his legs propped in
(, front of him like two furry little pill
4 dlSS LIS gray SOAOCA o11IS VI Cy OS AACA
on the window. Janet, feeling the con-
straint of the silence, put out her hand
and, not daring to speak aloud, said
| "Rab! in choking whisper. Rab
turned and looked at her carelessly
| through his half shut eyes. Then he
rose and walked, with lazy stretchings
| of the hind legs. away over to the
| hearth. There he sat down and stared
/ up at a blue wisp of flame blinking In
! the CRATE. The monotonous tick of the
clock was the only sound in the wide
kitchen.
| Mrs. Goudie stood with her hand ON
| the back of chair. AT first her eyes
/ gazed before her with the wide look Of
proud anger, and her mouth was
i hard. The glow fell upon her withered
face and revealed its dark and stern
nobility. Presently her eyes narrowed
and went away, and she seemed to be
musing. Then strange smile that
was not pleasant to look at appeared
about the corners of her mouth. But
| she did not speak.
The light became more unearthly.
Il declare" said Mrs Goudie sud-
denly, with false shrillness Of voice
/ that made Janet vince; Il declare, it's
like the day O judgment. this" The
smile never left her lips.
Again was appalling silence. The
clock seemed to be ticking more and
! more loudly. AS Janet listened to its
slow metallic beat her heart sank low
er in her breast. Where could her IA
ther be? He was so seldom out Of the
kitchen at the cleaning. She turned
her head to see what o'clock 1t was.
The old yellow dial was shining with
eerie vividness.
ALI this time her mother had given
no sign either Of pity or resentment.
But
"Well," she said at last, always with
that ironic edge on her voice; "well, we
had better gang butt the hoose, dye no
/ think?
Janet rose passiyely without speak
ing. Now that her ordeal had come
she was too feeble to be sharply afraid.
She felt herself borne onward like a
creature in the clutch Of fate. She
was going to meet her father. A bare
lobby with whitewashed walls ran
from the front door between the kitch-
en- and the parlor. A shaft of yellow
light struck in through an oblong slit
Of glass above the door, falling straight
upon row Of pegs. On one Of these
was the farmers everyday hat,
square hard felt, green gilt at the sides
with age. The level rays revealed q
thick coating of dust on it.
/ 10 t1,o
which fell to the right, and then stop
ped, speaking over her shoulder.
'We've made changes here" she said
shrilly, as if showing alterations to
stranger. She pointed to q bed, the
curtained head Of which was close to
the door on the left. Janet had begun
to tremble.
I She followed her mother into the
room. AT first she could see nothing
because of the invading glory.
''There's your fetheg!' said Mrs.
Goudie
Janet turned her eyes from the light,
and there lay her father in his shroud
beneath the full glow of sunset.
The clock licked loudly in the
kitchen.
A fringe Of sandy whiskers stuck
out from the tight jaw bandage. There
were vivid hairs in it, redly cleaning.
Janet's knees were water below her.
She sank by the bed.
"Fether" she painted, with open
mouth and unstrung lips. "Fether"
and then with shrill scream of an
guish: ooh, God; My fether! My fe-
ther! My fether!'
sA-hey," said her mother, that's
what We brocht your fether till!' On
an April morning three and twenty
years ago this woman had felt a thou
sand pulses leap and throb within her
when feeble little cry told that from
her body living soul had come into
the world-ah, mystic wonder!-a new
born soul and from her body and the
child Of the man she loved. But that
child had broken the heart of the man
| She loved and she was merci1nSs