The suburban citizen., 1900-02-24

could do, and then, led on by his
questions, she told the poor little
story. 'It's my sisters little boy, "
she said. "And he wasn't much
good, his father wasn't-he'd always
been spoilt - nobody ever took no
notice of how he was-and, when he
died, people said it was a good
thing" She pictured in a few broken
sentences the life he had led and
the terror he had caused those about
him. 'And my sister. she got
married again-and has other chill
dren now, and she don't like Johnny
to be with them much. He's like
his father, she always says, and L
guess he is. But he can be made diff
ferent, can't he, sir? He won't have
to be like him, will hep if 1 try hard
to make him mind? He's awful bad,
sometimes, but 1 love him so. " Brown
glanced at the tow-headed figure be
fore them and marveled. But there
was no mistaking the love in the little
aurt's eyes, as they rested for an in
stant on her charge. 80 I've been
bringing him here for a week every
! day--to make him want to be like
you all some day-good, brave and
| fine"
Her outspokeh admiration made
Brown turn to the boy to hide his
smile. do you want to be sol
dier?" he asked, and the blue eyes
suddenly glistened. "You bet, " he
answered, and did not seem abashed
at the sight of his aunPa reproachful
eyes-nor her admonitory "Johnnyw
Brown seized this opportunity and
delivered a grave lecture to the child,
who listened in half abashed silence.
But. the girl listened eagerly and
smiled her thanks to the man when
he had finished and was turning from
them to reioin his companions who
had again come up to them. They
seemed inclined to laugh at their com.
rade's new acquaintances, but this did
not prevent him from seeking them
out the following day and putting
johnny through a course of question
ing that the little aunt smilingly
listened to, for the few words had
worked wonders, and, as she con-
fided to her new friend later, Johnny
had never been SO good in all his lie,
Thank you so much for helping me,
sir" she added. "You see take
most of the care of him, in vacation
times especially, and he won't always
mind me, but he just thinks you're
fne?"
1t was very evident that some one
else thought him fine, too, from the
sparkle in the dark eyes, and it was
possibly owing to this fact that the
three met every morning for o brief
chat after the exercises were over.
Or it may have been that it was
comforting thought for young Brown,
far from home and on his way to the
Philippines, where bullets or fever
waited some of them-perhaps him
self--to feel that he was doing some
thing that perhaps might inAu-
ence some life, no matter how
slightly; and it was easily seen that
it was a great comfort to the womanly
child, whose hopes for her neph-
ew's redemption were rapidly grow
ing. 1t was pleasant break, too, in
the long days of waiting to be ordered
on their way, and the soldier and the
two children became great friends.
He called her "Little Aunt Margery,"
and treated her with certain respect
that seemed to be demanded OF him
by her quaint dignity, that was so un-
usual for one Of her years.
He began to realize, later on, that
their friendship was not q one-sided
affair. Little by little, as he talked
with her, be began to appreciate the
depth of nature that at first had
only impressed him as that OF child
and more than once he was kept
from doing something that he would
afterward have been ashamed OF by
the thought that Little Aunt Mar
gerry" would be so sorry if she were
to know.
She listened with interest to what
little he told her of his home life and
of the life he was then leading; and |
once, after he had been speaking of |
what they would be likely to encoun-
ter, in the Philippines, of the dan
gers, the privations and perhaps the |
glory, she broke out with note in |
her voice he had not heard before.
"Oh, I'd like to be man, to 60 and |
fight for my country 1t would be so |
fine to do something really aud not |
just dream about it. It's so much |
better to be a man who can 90 and |
fight, than to be woman.-to stay |
home and wait--and wait" And her |
voice was so earnest that he did not |
even smile at the idea of her calling
herself woman, but recognizing the |
truth she so poorly expressed nodded |
grayely.
"Thaps so, little Aunt Margery,"
he answered. "It's a great blessing
that we have. But I'm glad You cam |
go to war. Just think how badly L |
would feel if you were killed, and I'm |
afraid you would be-"
Her little hand was put on his |
great one. "But il you areW she
cried. "Oh, if you should be killed |
Il would want to die, too. That's
never been any one so good to me as