The true northerner., 1899-01-18

At the end of the first week Miss
Marg'ret was more and more convinced
that il was a matter that needed inves-
tigation, but one which she herself must
puzzle out, without aid from anyone
else. The first day of the second week
dawned rainy and damp, SO much colder
and more dreary than n soft summer
rain in the country that Miss Marg'ret
refused to venture out on the shopping
tour which Lollie insisted on. So the
young wife went alone, with a prom
ise TO go back for lunch, and Miss
Marg'ret set her thin lips with de-
termination that might have been
dreadfubi if there had not been tremu
lous fear in her dear, gentle chin. Still,
the maid was amazed TO see her APP
pear in the lower hall few minutes
later, with an order thata cab be called.
The maid hesitated, but hers it was to
obey, and in little while Miss Marg'ret,
with her skirts carefully tucked up and
her best gray shawl crossed over her
knees, was being jolted down the river
The driver had in his lifetime received
much less definite directions than these
and in an incredibly short time, be-
fore the timid passenger had begun
10 get her courage up to the sticking
point, they drew up before the office of
a local steamship company. There was
no doubt that this was the right place,
for Just across the street was the long
smoky tunnel of a railway S alton.
And, to settle the question, there IN the
gray mist of the river, with her nose
humping gently against the dripping
pier, was the Margaret l.. Brad
shaw"
The cabby was shaking the drops
from his cap and peering wonderingly
at the little lady gaspng in the car
riage beneath. Poor Marg'ret wished
a dozen times in the next second that
she had never left Towertown and its
placid comfort. But at that instant
a young man in blue coat and a gold
lettered cap stepped from the office
door holding an umbrella over his head
and asked:
"Did YOU want to know something
about the boats, MADAME"
81 don't know" began the trembling
Miss Marg'ret. Then she remembered
the dignity due her as the daughter of
the late DR.. Bradshaw, of Towertown,
and sister of the present Mr.. Edward
Bradshaw, one of the city's rising young
lawyers. So she gathered the string of
her little satin handbag up with n de-
fiant twist and went on:
Eyes, want TO see the man who owns
that boat"
The startled youth followed the
point of the little umbrella till his eyes
lighted on the innocent Margaret l..
bradshaw" Then he gathered himself
together, and began:
"Well. the owner doesn't come down
here very often this time of the year.
But if it is anything about timetables,
or rates, or"
81 want TO see the man himself" put
in little Miss Marg'ret, as she began
to realize that she would have 10 fight
her own battles. 81 want to talk to
him--to talk to him all by himself"
The boy began to think that he had
encountered some one who had n per-
sonal grievance against the owner of
the company. Still, the tiny spinster
certainly looked innocent and helpless
enough; besides, the rain was leaking
through his thin shoes in anything but
a cheerful fashion. So he gave his arm
to the trembling Miss Bradley, piloted
her across the swimming pavement in
the grins Of a windowful of sympathiz-
ing fellow clerks and deposited his timid
charge in a big armchair while he went
10 the manager with the story.
If business had been brisk probably
Miss Marg'ret would have been sent
off with curt dismissal. But it was
a dull day, and, for wonder, the owner
Of the Margaret i. Bradshaw" was at
the,ofIice, looking over few details be-
fore setting off for a summer abroad.
! The manager tiptoed into the Office of
the great man, told the story of the
dripping little spinster in the outer Of
flee, and was instructed TO usher her
! in.
Miss Marg'ret's fingers were con-
! gealed with numbness. and her sensi-
tive lips twitched pitifully. At the sight
of the tall, handsome man, who
glanced carelessly up at her, she stag
gered a little-lhe wasn't the boy who
had left Towertown a couple of decades
ago. Still, as the bright eyes lit up with
a newer interest there certainly was
familiar CLEAN in them, and the mouth
always had been firm. But what had
turned all those fine, ruddy locks to
snowy softness? Poor Marg'ret forgot
how her own once sunny curls had
whitened.
There must have been something in
the little lady which had remained of
her lost girlhood, for the famous mil
lionaire found himself all at once re-
minded of lilac-scented hillside with
the tones of fond girlish voice in his
ears, and his kindly smile gave the
trembling little woman courage to say:
"Are you Jonathan Carpenter? Don't
you remember Marg'ret?"
Jonathan Carpenterc his breath
with mighty effort; then he took a
couple of steps forward and caught the