The Worthington advance., 1901-01-11
Imade no answer and she continued


her grooming to the babe in her arms.
Hush, my BARN., she said to the
motionless figure; ''hush, thy fathers
a-coomin'-a-coomin' home the day.
Hast seen him?" she cried, suddenly
turning to me; hast seen my Sandy ?
Ny puir boy, Sandy-did he send ye?''
The boy looked at me with wistful,
touching expression.
"sandy's the father" he explained.
"who went away long ago."
At this juncture the door opened
and a woman about 80 years of age en-
tered, with every appearance of weari-
ness and heart-sickness in her form
and face.
For the first time the boy. eyes
lightened.
Mother" he said, '"the gentleman
fetched home q whole pailful Of coal
see!" and the little fellow spread his
hands over the newly kindled fire, with
= look of pride and satisfaction.
"Hush!" whispered Granny; "the
BARN sleeps. Wake her not up to mis-
cry again. 1t were blessin', when hun
ger cooms and cold, fer us all to sleep.
Tho masters Gamma sell Sleep" she
muttered, brushing with one toil-worn
hand the struggling locks from her
brow; "though they do own our bodies,
they Gamma touch the soul"
"Poor granny!" sighed Jemmy's
mother; "'tis always the masters since
that awful day. sleepin' or wakin', tits
always the masters"
''Sh!" again whispered the old wom-
an. rising feebly and depositing her
burden upon the bed; "sh-h! the BARN
sleeps"
''The child must be cold," I said to the
younger woman. "1ts clothing seems
poor and hin.'
She smiled strangely and placed her
finger upon her lip.
""Tain't no real baby, whispered
the boy; ''it's only stick O. wood the
granny calls the BARN.
looked at the boys mother inquir-
ingly.
"Yes," said she, "the BARN died the
morning poor Sandy was taken away.
Granny went crazed, as you see, which
was mercy, sir, SEEM as how she
loved the BARN and Sandy better than
life"
The old woman had returned to her
chair, and, cheered by the warmth,
was sinking into gentle doze.
"Sandy!" she murmured. "Sandy's
coomin' hame the day. The BARN will
nae mair cry from hunger, for the H.
ther is coomin' hame."
"Of what dark day do you speak?"
inquired; "and who took your husband
away?"
The boy shuddered and crept close to
his mothers side.
She hesitated.
"Here, Jenny" hastened TO say,
take this money and go to the nearest
store. Your mother will tell you what
to buy" e.
He was gone; but, nevertheless, l
was haunted by those solemn, pleading,
wistful eyes-eyes in which the glad
light Of happy childhood had never
lurked; eyes which looked out upon
life shadowed by the wing of poverty
ana hopeless misery.
"You may remember, SIR" began his
mother, "the great strike of the miners
in this region in the year 1ss-. Sandy,
my husband, was agin it, sir, from the
first, He knowed it meant starvation
in the end for the miners, and triumph
for the masters. Labor, sir, is the only
inheritance of the poor; and when
there's no labor there's no wages, and
no wages means no bread. So while
the masters count their gold and mock
ingly bide their time, the poor strikers
and their families must suffer, naught
being left them but to eat the bread
and drink the waters of affection"
''Trne." assented; "too true"
swell, SIR" she continued, 1.-THE men
had been idle for months, but still they
clung to the hope that, by holdin' out,
their future would be bettered-that
the barons would see at last that all
they asked for was wages enough to
sweeten labor; something beyond the
coarse fare and the comfortless cabin
which had ever been their portion. So
the day came when even the bit of salt
pork and black bread could no more
be had at the company's store on credit.
It was bitter cold, and Sandy had gone
out to get the trust of pail of coal.
He was very white, sir, when he came
back, and there was that in his eye
which made me shudder.
"'Why, Sandy I cried, my man
why do you look SOP
"For answer he pointed to the empty
pail.
"'They would gle me nane.' says he.
slowlike and husky; they will nae trust
US more
"'And why ? asked. all of tremble.
""They mean to turn us out of the
house Tomorrow he answered, bitter
ly. New men, my lass, are coomin' to
take our places at 60 cents the day.
Foreigners, Jenny, at 60 cents the day!'
"'But the BARN, our sick bairn!' I
cried. She has been cryin' for sup of
broth since early mornin'. She is dy-
in, Sandy-dyin' for the lack of nour-
ishment.'
SANDY groaned. He was a big.
brawny man, sir, willin' to work, and
he well-nigh worshiped the little one
which lay there moanin' and cryin' for
the broth which he couldn't give her.
"'Ye maun get chicken, Sandy
cried granny; try it, mon. The darlin'
is starvin', can ye no see?'
"a chjcken% cried Sandy, with a
bitter laugh. 'Ye maun as we'll ask me
for the keys of Heaven, granny. They
would nae gle me the trust of pail of
coal the morn. A chicken! they would
call me mad an I should ask for it
mad!'