The Laurens advertiser. (Laurens, S.C.) 1885-1973, 1901-08-28

L
clean forgot 'em an left 'em on the |
porch"
"You wouldn't call them things boots, |
would your The deacon threw his
whole available fund Of sarcasm into
the words.
"Gaiters, 1 mean," corrected Mrs.
Birdsell quickly. "An that's another
thing. Just to think Of man takin to
gaiters after boots has been good
enough for him for 30 yearsI It's q
sure sign, william"
Eyes, mother, that's the long an the
short Of it. Caters may be small
thing in themselves, but in Joels case
they help powerful to show what fast
livin an strong drink will do once
man gets goin In the wrong way"
The deacon started suddenly at the
meaning of his own words. A spade
had finally been called a spade. Mrs.
Birdsell straightway began to sob au-
dibly, while her husband searched alb
stractedly for his handkerchief, which
he finally produced from the armhole
| Of his vest
Joel Birdsell filed the place OF son
| not only In the hearts but In the home
| Of the deacon and his wife. Back IL
| the flfties, when heavy timber still COW
| cred what Is now the rich, rolling farm
land Of lower Michigan, William Bird
| sell had gone forth from the cirsum-
\ scribed acres Of the homestead In Yer
mont to win n place for himself In the
world, with only young Wife and his
own grit to aid him. Then Michigan
L o., Z 40
erward came to be. But the house in
which he still lived was built, and then
Joel, tho next younger by three years.
was sent for to share the increasing
fortunes, incidentally to lend helping
hand in the running Of the farm.
And Joel, he was shining example
of New England stagnation. Never In
clined to marry, always content with q
kind or helpless dependence upon his
brother and sister, whose home had not
been frightened by the advent Of chill
dren, he grew more and more to be tho
object Of parental solicitude to the
farmer and his wife as the years
passed by. He was satisfied with his
unique position, and gradually the hori-
zon Of his life came to be bounded by
the views and wishes Of his foster par
ents.
Mrs. Birdsell was the first to break
the oppressive silence. "William." she
said, there's no use putin it off any
longer. Suppose we call Joel down now
this very night-an point out to him
like-tell hlm-that Is to say, ask
him She hesitated. The task seem
ed greater when framed in words.
"Sh" The exclamation escaped the
pair at the same instant.
In the chamber above the song began
again. This time the words were loud
and distinct, although the tune was
still doubtful. Silently the couple fol
lowed the lines:
dreamt that dwelt In marble halls
Not word was uttered until the
verse ended. Mrs. Birdsell was busy
making a mental analysis Of the mean
Ing Of the words. Their import seemed
beyond doubt.
"It's real gamblin house tune,' she
pronounced. with assurance born OF
conviction, although there was fem
bling In her voice. "I've heard al
about the Internal places; all marble ar
glass an electric lights an polished
woodwork"
The squcaking. heavy footsteps grew
louder. The culprit was certainly com
ing down the stairs. Next the dool
opened. and he walked into the dining
room. Mrs. Birdsell looked straight ir
, front Of her. The deacon hastily snatch
ed The Agriculturist from the table.
Joel appeared surprised to find the
rest Of the family keeping late hours
"Still settin upT he asked innocently
enough, but in the ears Of the others
the words had guilty ring.
From the corners Of her eyes Mrs
Birdsell was taking a quiet inventory
Of discriminating evidence. There was
the red necktie encircling the stand u
eoHar that sagged out In tired fashIo
at the front. The long tailed coat wa
also conspicuous. She wished she ha
had the forethought to put on be
spectacles, for she knew that prope
scrutiny would detect faint creases 4
front OF the bagging gray pants. A
Tor the shoes. the noise on the staiy
mad already told Its own story.
well, guess III walk out for III
tie Bit" he went on, taklnu no potic
of the unusual restraint. ''The SIX ",
as clear as bell an 1t seems Ius
shameful to stay In. Won't have mun,
more nights like this"
Its time honest folks was abcd n,
asleep" The deacon's voice grntc,
harshly. although he tried his best +,
be natural.
That's just one Of your notions,
William" Joel answered, with n faint
laugh Come now, nights Just ne
good as day, amt it2 Don't fret about
me. Just leave the key to the dlnin
room door under the stone by the
steps, an III get In all right"
There was no reply.
IAN that reminds me-" the culprit
went on, 'the next time l go to town
I'm goin to take that key along with
me an have one made like It. No use
talkin, man ought to have a latch
| key"
This last worldly whim more slgnifi.
cant than anything else, worse even
than the reckless get up Of tho cos.
tune. fell with astounding weight on
the farmer and his wife. 1t was moth.
Ing less than the limit Of moral de.
pravity. In the suddenness of the
shock there was no chance for reply,
Joel hesitated n moment, then picked
up his hat and went out.