The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1901-02-01

would replace the letter where IL had
fallen, on the library table, watch
from the doorway the guilty shame
mount her husbands face when he
found he was detected-and then leave
his house forever. Would he be so lost
as to show no sense of shame? He had
said as he left that he was going to q
directors meeting and would be back
at ten. Perhaps he was with that WON.
an even now! The insult of it ALL She
dropped her work and fed to her own
room, to await his return.
Her son Dick wandered into the Ii.
brary for another book q little later
when his eye caught the signature,
"Janet Golden" in bold handwriting.
"Why, that's the name mother
was asking about" he said to himself
and before he realized just what he was
doing his eyes had taken in the letter.
1t surprised him at first, then puz-
zled him. But as he remembered his
mothers manner it's meaning flashed
upon him. There it was, addressed ia
his father, all too plainly.
he had lived long enough, and seen
enough Of the world to know its sin.
But it had never occurred to him that
his father could do anything wrong.
His first impulse was to rush to COM
fort his mother. But this shame that
had come upon them held him back.
No, they could not talk about it-not
yet, at least. What were they to do?
OF course he must stick to his mother.
They had never been a demonstrative
family, though they had cared for each
other dearly. But all his affection for
his father seemed blasted now. How
could he have done so? He rcmem.
bered that his father and mother had
sometimes quarreled-but he had al
ways regarded that as merely one OF
the defects Of weak human nature. He
had never taken the quarrels seri.
ously.
OF course they would have to sepa-
rate now. What could they tell their
friends? What excuse or explanatio
could they offer?
The cold perspiration stood on his
brow as he thought of it all. He would
meet his father upon his return and
ask what it meant. He felt that the
family honor was now resting on him.
The minutes dragged themselves
along interminably. It seemed an age
before he heard the gate click, and
then his fathers quick, energetic tread
along the gravel walk. A cold chill
seized him. He heard the steps mount
the porch and cross; he saw his mother
descend the stairs quickly, her face
pale and drawn, and place herself where
she could see the library table. Their
eyes met and told their own story.
They both heard the peculiar grating
sound of the night key in the lock and
saw the father enter.
Hello" he said, unconcernedlv. not
noticing their set faces nor the fact
that they failed to reply. Then he
walked to the library and picked up the
letter.
They watched every movement. He
held it off at arms length, as he had
lately been forced to do when his
glasses were not at hand. Then he
smiled.
"Oh, Mary, you found it, did you ~
he said, with the utmost can<lor. "I'm
glad of that. was afraid had lost
it. You remember Janet Golden, don't
you? She's old Job Blacks STEP
daughter, you know, the one that's
crippled. Nearly everyone calls her
Black, but her name is really Golden.
She's trying hard to get money to on
to college and succeeded in getting
her a place on the evening force at
the public library. Hasn't she an odd
way Of expressing herself? I guess
I'll turn the job of stopping in some
evening to hear her thanks over to
you. don't like that sort of thing"
and he handed his wife the letter.
But he does not know to this day
just why it was that she threw her
arms around his neck and kissed him,
instead of taking the letter.