The Kootenai herald. [volume] (Kootenai, Idaho) 1891-1904, 1900-05-19


with all that sudden wealth"
II have never yet told any one what
/ first did with the money, Margaret"
replied Mrs. Morris. "but 1t can do no
harm to tell the story now. 1t all hap
pened ten years ago.
"As was on my way home with the
two crisp $50 bills In my pocket l met
a young man who had been one of my
pupils two or three years before. He
was quite a favorite of mine, and
had known his people for many years.
On this day he turned and walked with
me, and / soon guessed that he was in
some deep trouble. After a while l
won the story from him. He had been
specializing in stocks and had Dor
rowed,' unknown to his employees, a
hundred dollars of the firms money.
He had lost, and in despair at being
unable to refund the money, had
forged his uncle's name to a check,
which, however, he had not yet found
courage to present for payment.
"Well, the end of 1t was that the crisp
$50 bills in my possession changed
hands, the forged check was destroyed,
and Charlie left me, with broken words
of thanks and few earnest promises
for the future"
Ibid he ever repay you the money,
auntieT'
Eyes, he paid it all back In a few
months. / believe he has always lived
an honest, upright life since, and have
never regretted the first investment of
my prize money"
A short time later as Margaret Rim
mer was on her way home, she heard
a deep, manly voice say, Good after
noon, Miss Margaret" and Professor
hay fell into step by her side.
II have just been calling on my Aunt
Prudence" said Margaret, as they
walked on slowly. 81 have spent de-
iightful afternoon reading some of her
old stories. You know she won hun
dreddollar prize once with one of her
first Stories"
'Yes, 1 remember" said the profess
sor, somewhat absently, looking down
as he spoke at few fluffy curls that
escaped from beneath the brim of his
companions hat. 81 remember that l
met your aunt on that day that she
received the prize, and she allowed me
to walk part Of the way home with her.
You know she was my teacher In the
old high school,"
mo, did not know It," replied Mar
garet, slowly, with a shock of surprise.
To herself she was repeating with a
sick heart, This Is the end of auntie's
story; his name Is Charles Hay, and
1t was he who walked home with
auntie that day. He must never know
that l know" She forced herself to
take some part In the conversation. try
ing to put aside for the time the
thought of what this knowledge E.ust
mean to her, that she could never again
look up to him with the old respect.
that the sweet fancies that had of late
begun to come to her, OF = dearer
friendship between them, must be reso-
lutely crushed out. No, 1t could never
be just the same again.
When, a few days later, Mr.. Hay
called on Margaret, and in a few man.
ly words told her of his love, Margaret
gently, but decidedly, refused his offer.
She would give him no reason, except
that it could never be. No, she cared
for no one eise-but II could never be.
So the professor went sadly away. and
Margaret, with pale face and eyes dim
with 1nshed tears, sought her room.
For hours that night Margaret Rim
mer lay awake and wrestled with the
problem-was 1t fair to condemn the
man of 80, honest respected, who had
won his place in the world. for the
folly and sin of ten years ago? Had
he not nobly redeemed the past? Bat
still, how could she respect him as she
might II she had never heard that
wretched story? A forger, a thief
No, she could never trust her life's hap
piness to one whom she could not rev.
erence as nObler, greater, than herself
Margaret was calling on her aunt O
few days later, when Mrs. Morris re-
marked: "By the way, you remember
the story l told you about the young
man whom I helped out of trouble witt
my prize money"
"Yes," said Margaret, family, won
dering what was to come.
HE called ON me yesterday, ant
brought me photograph of his two
children"
His children exclaimed Margaret
Eyes, he is married, and has lovely
wife and pretty little home"
Margaret listened as If in a dream
''Then-then 1t was not Mr.. HayT she
stammered.