The Minneapolis journal., 1901-10-16

grasped small hand and led the runaway
toward the cottage from which he had but
lately been gloating in misery He unlocked
the door and led the culprit to the kitchen,
turned on the water and awkwardly washed
the astonished denizen of DiggIe's Court
There when / get few layers Of dirt on
I'll take you to the nearest police station and
they locate you ma. But I'll be hanged
if I'd drag such a connecting link as you
were through the streets"
A fresh handkerchief was sacrificed on the
altar Of cleanliness, and then Griswold start
ed toward the door with his unexpected
charge. But here another surprise was in
store for him. The skies were overcast and
lightning was playing along the horizon.
There was nothing TO do but wait till the
etorm passed by.
Griswold sank into rocker in the tiny par
lor, and Mis- Brennan's kid" clambered IA
miliarly upon his knee The afternoon was
sultry, the little head sank lower and lower
or Griswold's immaculate flannel suit, and
soon soft, even breathing filed the quiet
room.
The storm gathered and burst, but the child
slept on, and Griswold with half-closed eyes,
lived over again the happy days when he and
she had planned and furnished the cottage.
A sudden fash Of vivid lightning and a
shrill feminine shriek
"Oh, Mrs. Brennan, if I only had a key
We could get in here! And porches and trees
are so dangerous"
Jack rose to his feet, the sleeping child
still clasped in his arms. There was no mis-
taking that voice For an instant he hesi-
tated, then threw open the door.
Two women crouched in the portal. One
was middle-aged and haggard, her sleeves
rolled up to her elbow and her apron tossed
over her head The other was young, and
dainty and fair to look upon, even in her
fearful fright. They rose and faced the sud
den vision in the doorway.
The older woman gave a scream, half OF
anger, half of JOY.
'It's me kid Where did ye foind him."
Then without waiting for reply she ierked the
sleeping child from Griswold's arms and fell
to weeping and scolding over him in true
| Irish fashion
Ten minutes later the storm died down as
suddenly as It had risen, and Mrs. Brennan
| and her kid duly provided with car fare,
were vending their way towards the nearest
trolley line.
The younger woman still stood at the win
| dow, staring out upon the weeds, which hung
heavy with moisture. She tapped her fingers
mechanically on the window pane.
| II had gone over to Mrs. Brennan's for
| shirt waist / needed" she remarked sudden
! ". as If she felt that an explanation was OBJ
| lgatory. "And she was nearly crazy about
the kid | felt SO sorry for her, and We
| kept walking, and walking, and every one
had seen the little boy, they said, and we
| followed the trail until we got here-and--'
| she turned suddenly and faced Griswold,
who was regarding her anxiously. The con
| trast between his grave, pleading face and
his generally demoralized attire was ludi-
crous. The departed kid had left as memen-
toes Of his short stay liberal stains of lcorice
and mud on Griswold's soft flannel suit. One
grimy hand had evidently found q resting
place on Jacks smooth-shaven cheek.
| Meta Harris stopped laughing and ex-
claimed:
"Oh, to think you could be so good to that
miserable kid You've made me feel $3.50
mean and insignificant" Her face was very
sober now. do you think, Jack, you could
forgive me- and"
"Bless that KID exclaimed Jack, as they
walked home in the twilight. Meta had reso-
1utely refused to board trolley car in con-
sideration of Jacks soiled raiment. When
we get settled the little chap can play up
here every SATURDAY,"
Yes mused Meta, 81 always said that
| boy would do something worth while"