Evening journal., 1901-09-21
STORY OF WIDOW M'DADR

the late McDade, and even though her
life with him had not been by anyl
means path of roses, her self-im-
posed task was painful one.
Poor William john" she mused, as
she tenderly smoOthed a half-worn
pair Of trousers with her toil-stained
hand. Il don't suppose he would want
me to give them away, but they might
be help to somebody. and they are
no use layin' here. l guess will give
them to Bobby Miller. They would
just fit him, and goodness knows he
needs them bad enough"
So the tender-hearted widow laid
aside garment after garment until a
good,y pile confronted her. "Therei"
she said. to herself, these ought to fitI
him out real well, and l hope he viii
get more comfort out of them than
poor William John did"
Bobby Miller, the good-natured ne'er-
do-well of the village was made mex
pressIbly happy by the generosity OF
the Widow McDade. logged out in
the garments of the departed AIcDade
he felt so eminently respectable that
he concluded to go to camp. Bobby
had been looking forward to the camp
with mixed feelings, in which regret
and sorrow predominated The camp
was a great thing in the county. 1t
was common meeting ground for
friends who had not seen each other
since the year before. In some in
stances there were reunions of friends
who had not met for years. Bobby's
fondest wish had been to go to camp
for years, but sort of latent pride
had kept him from going there to be
patronized or snubbed by his better
to-do friends But, through the
kindness of Widow McDade. Bobby felt
that even the camp was made possible.
AS he descended from the primitive
old hack used to convey passengers to
and from the camp grounds, hand
came down heavily on his broad back
and a CHEEKY voice cried:
Bobby Miller, upon my SOUL And
how goes the world with you, old
friend?"
Bobby turned his chubby red face 20
his interlocutor and fairly gasped with
pleased astonishment. =.
why NIilesl" he stammered.
Where did you come from? IL
Thought you was out in Californy.
What are you doin' here?"
Just come back to see the old
folks" replied Miles. Then shadow
fel. across his bearded face as he add
led: But | wish l hadn't. Everything
is changed so, feel as though was in
a graveyard full of ghosts. Everybody
l see has two or three ghosts around
them"
Bobbys ready color faded, and he
looked around half apprehensiYely.
There amt no ghosts around me
Miles" he said. Il reckon they are
most like people and they don't seem
to have no use for me. Only the
Widow McDade. and she's real good"
! The Widow McDade? surely you
don't mean little George Williams
who married Bill McDade," exclaimed
Miles.
Yes, l do" rejoined Bobby emphati-
cal.y. And none TO good TO her he
was either. but she stood all his tan
trums and mean ways like the angel
she is. and she give me this suit OF
clothes. so she did, so l could come to
camp" Bobby explained
Where does she live?" asked Niles
eagerly.
over in town" said Bobby, nodding
in the direction Of the village. Lives
all by herself. and mighty lonely ]
reckon she finds it, too" said Bobby
"Old McDade wasn't much to live with
but guess he was better than nobody
and"
q Bobby found himself talking tc
empty air, and turning he saw his
e friend Miles taking long strides in the
> direction Of the village.
Z " Pears to me Miles used to be sweet
on George Williams before he went
West, he soliloquized, and she like
him we'll enough too until Bill McDade
came here with his city ways Then
she gave Miles the cold shoulder and
then ne leaves and she marries Bill;
and they do say he led her a pretty
hard life"
Just then an acquaintance claimed
4, Bobby's attention and he dismissed the
thought of the Widow McDade from his
simple mind.
The widow sat on her little front
porch. Nearly everybody had gone to
camp and the village seemed deserted
She would ike to have gone, too, but
nobody had seemed to want her, and
she would not intrude upon anyone
She felt lonely, and tear, the slow
, tear OF middle age, rolled down her
cheek. Despite her forty odd years
( that cheek retained some of its youth
ful bloom. and the brown hair, though
% plentifully streaked with gray, was
] abundant, and becomingly arranged
The Widow McDade made an attrac-
tive picture as she sat there in the
afternoon of that Sabbath day, and Sc
thought big. bearded Miles Rushton
! as his shadow fell across the porch
"Georgiel" he cried a great longing
I in his voice George, don't you
I know me? 1t is I. Miles, your own
{ true Miles. come back to you.
Z With an eloquent gesture of appeal
g. 81 e.. h..