The pioneer press. (Miller, Hand County, S.D.) 1893-190?, 1899-05-11

VOICE III the direction or the door, ana
to call out suddenly and Unexpectedly
"Yo; heave, ho!"
My mother starts up with a scream,
and runs to the door with a frighten-
ed look. There she stands. trembling
and white, with eyes that see nothing
that is really there, and with out
stretched hands that seem to have
tongues in them, SO eloquent are they.
Why, mother" I say, what are
you looking for? A ghost!"
She gives me scared look, and lets
me lead her back to her chair, into
which she sinks, still all of a tremble
1T was / who gave you that 'Yo.
heave, hor mother"
Really you, Amos?"
Really me, mother
Your voice was so like your
fathers, my son." says she, almost in
a whisper; 'and at that moment l was
looking into the fire, and thinking OF
him."
Presently she adds, Il didn't know
but that he might be calling me to
come to him."
pass my arm around her neck, and
she takes my hand and holds it in
hers, so that she has a necklet of her
own loving flesh and blood about her
"Then my voice is like my father's?"
Eyes, my son."
How well l remember his 'Yo,
heave, no! 1t used to make me jump
for JOY"
1T was the first thing you ever
heard from him, Amos. He was in
the Indies when you were born. He
came home in the early morning when
we were abed, not expecting him. All,
deary me! deary me! When I heard
his voice / gave scream, as did
just now"
Then comes long silence. during
which we both look into the fre again
i seeing Mabel, and my mother the
dead, with his ''Yo, heave, hoT
Father was fine man, mother?"
Yes, my soil; YOU are like him."
1t is tie first time my attention has
ever been called to my personal APP
pearance. Well, yes, wasn't Grip
pie, nor wry-faced. / had a fine brown
beard in those days, and 1 was tall
and STRAIGHTFORWARD
80 am like my father. / am glad Of
that. 1t was a love-match, mother?"
She knows that | refer to her court
ing days, and she draws deep
breath.
eyes. my son. We loved each other
true"
"No happiness without love, mother"
None, my SON."
Her voice is broken by the tears
which are running down her old face
There is no happiness without love,
and she had tasted it, this little pale
old mother Of mine, and she lived now
on the memory, sucking honey out of
the past.
And in the midst of these thoughts
comes the remembrance Of a frown
on a woman's face, and the cold touch
of dead hand. Vainly do / try to
shake 1t off.
How old were you, mother, when
you first saw father?"
II was little girl in pinafores, my
SON"
Seven or eight years, maybe?"
about that, my son.
Like Mabel?" say.
intend only to think this. my ques-
the point; but the words came out
without my having anything to do
with it, as it seems. From this mo-
ment am conscious that my mother is
watching me in a secret way. Well,
what have / to conceal?
who was at Mabel's house to-
night?" she presently asks.
mo one but Mabel and her mother"
| answer.
Wasn't any one else expected"
mot that l know Of"
II occurs to me that my mother has
purpose in turning my thoughts in
this new direction, and I question her
concerning 1t. She answers me in n
roundabout way.
"He is often at Mabels house. and /
thought he would be sure to be there
tonight"
"He! Who?"
Have you not heard" she says, with
quaver in her voice, that a gentle
man is keeping company with Mabel?"
She keeps her face purposely turned
from me, and she therefore does not
see the hot blood that rises to mine,
| almost binding me. But this much
having been said, more must follow.