Ottumwa semi-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1899-1903, 1900-03-01


nection with him. The gift of COW
when their own only one had fallen
over the bluff and been killed, the
headstone that marked her fathers
grave in the Vaudeville burying
ground, the annual spring breaking
up of her little garden patch, all testi-
fed TO the goodness of the colonels
heart and the faithfulness of his soul.
He had never lost sight of the fact
that her mother was the impoverished
widow of the man who had been the
Intellectual guide of his callow youth
nor how as the minister wife she had
been a helpful friend and good adviser
to the young and sometimes frivolous
wife he had brought home to stGtely
CID Broxton Hall.
And now in the hour of his extremity
Miss Ma1vina could not bear to think
Of the colonel having an unfulfilled
wish. Jessy had told her that all his
cry was: why doesn't the boy come?
The boy will be too late Keep me
here, doctor, until Tom gets home"
And Jessy knew, because she was
housemaid at the Hall and heard
everything. If only the boy had been
sent for sooner! Mr.. Matthews must
have known how things were going to
end.
And at thought Of the lawyer she fell
to wondering over her mothers harsh
Judgment of the man who for sterling
merit stood next to Parson Drayton in
the town and county. There were
those in Vaudeville who thought the
sun rose and set in him. Her mother
must be getting unreasonable in her
old age, and so, .dismissing the lawyer
from her mind as a minor matter at
sucl, a solemn juncture, she stood
there breathing futile wishes that she
might do something ever. so little
something, for the colonel or for Tom.
The road in front Of the cottage was
deserted At it's best travel toward
Vaudeville was light and uncertain.
There was none at all tonight.
The scent of honeysuckles and sweet
williams weighted the air. A single
star came out In the blue black sky, an
other, dozen, host. A solemn hush
enwrapped the universe. If only some
break would come in the dreadful still
ness 1t came.
The patter of hurrying feet in the
dusty road-a small, dark figure WAS
speeding toward her out of the gloom.
1t came abreast of her. Miss Malvina
could hear the quick painting breath
of the runner. Next the CLEAN of a
white face, bare of hat, shone under
the stars.
who is that? Who are you? Tom
Tom Broxton?''
The running feet halted. The white
face came closer. A breathless young
voice called to her eagerly: rs that
you, Miss Malvina? How about fa-
Their? Better, isn't he?"
Miss Aalvina answered inconsc-
quently:
''What are you doing afoot child?
Couldn't Daniel have gone to fetch
you?"
"NIr. Matthews man RUDE was at
the station with his buggy. think he
must have been drunk. He upset the
puSSS III lliilc ioiS tuls sue lue
schoolhouse. l left him floundering
about in it. i could not wait. Is ia
ther''-
"Yes,n said Miss Malvina recklessly.
She would not rob that poor painting
young bosom of its last pickering hope.
Thank God for that much"
The boy lifted his eyes toward the
dark mass showing above the darker
shrubbery Of Broxton lawn. But for
that senseless mishap lie would have
been home an hour ago. He had run,
painting and stumbling, over three long
miles of dark, uneven country roads.
Still half mile lay between him aud
his one earthly friend. He halted only
long enough to- fling that gasping ques-
ton at Miss Malylna. Perhaps he