Little Falls herald. [volume] (Little Falls, Morrison County, Minn.) 1889-1950, 1902-12-12

necessary to take an &C.
I'D commodation train which
had no parlor car. Weth-
eren found seat in a
day coach and arranged
his belongings with the
care that marks certain type Of bach.
elor. He was no sooner seated than q
fussy, stout woman with two little
girls established herself behind him.
Why had he committed the incredi-
BILE folly of this journey? From
sense of duty doubtless. 1t was time
that he did something substantial for
his aunts, his nearest living relatives,
two widows with a houseful of other
peoples children, as he knew from
their letters.
They had promised him "a real home
Christmas" and he shuddered at the
thought. He had been homeless man
for many years and hoped to live and
die in that blessed condition. Out of a
struggle he had emerged a rich man.
He had taken new and more luxurious
rooms at the club. He was prepared
to enjoy life in them, or If not he could
at least be miserable with no one to
worry him.
The train dawdled along and reached
Lynde, which is the nearest station to
Brantford, about noon. There remained
4 ride of eleven miles in whatever ve-
hicle his aunts had provided.
He was near the only home in the
world he could be sure was open to
him for love alone. The old, boyish
pledge that he would come back when
he got rich was about to be made
good. These matters might at least
interest him, but they did not. 1t
wearied him to consider them. He was
conscious of an active dread of the
cold and dreary ride that he must take,
and he felt annoyed most unreasonably
because the stout woman and her chill
dren who had distressed him on the
train were alighting at this particular
station. But bis soul was empty of
sentiment.
He lodged the trio and fastened
through the little buildings, expecting
to find his aunt's carriage upon the
other side, but there was nothing that
looked like private conveyance. Just
opposite the door a girl whom he had
seen on the train was putting hand
bag into a queer vehicle on runners,
called 'pung" in those parts. 1t had
a broad seat, rudely hooded. in front
and long, boxlike body in which
were some packages and small
trunk.
'Yes'm." the driver of the vehicle was
saying. 'this is the stage. 1 wouldn't
be surprised if you was Miss Amy
Hunt Mrs. Martha Webster asked me
to look out for you an young Teller
she Was expectin'. You amt seen moth
in OF him, have you?"
II saw man get off the train," she
replied, .''but he was as gray as a
mouse He couldn't have BEEN
At this moment she caught sight of
Wetherell so close that he must have
heard what she had said.
do you know" said he to the driver,
"where can hire conveyance to take
me to Brantford:''
''1'm goin' right over there. This is
the stage Cost you only half dollar
to ride with me. l guess you're Mr.
iWetherell, amt you? l was told to
bring you over" ..*s.sssssa;-~~+t ,x~,s,, s.
Wetherell perceived that he could
not press his inquiry without a sugges-
ton of discourtesy to Miss Hunt. She
would think he ought to welcome the
chance to ride with her. There really
NJ &n of
ing the whole state of Maine in one ST.
lent anathema he stepped aboard the
pung.
Wetherell's meditations were inter-
rupted by the loud voice of the stout
woman who called from the door of
the station demanding to know wheth-
er that thing" was the Brantford
stage. The driver said, ''Ycs'm, and
measured the front seat with glance
of his eye.
II guess you an the youngsters will
have to bundle in here behind" said
he.
by no MEANS" exclaimed Wetherell,
1asing II could not think OF subject
ing the lady to 50 much discomfort.
will find conveyance for myself
Keep your settin','' said the stout
woman, with decision. me and the
girls would jes' as soon ride behind
1t III be full warmer there than twill
up on that seat
Wetherell hesitated, meditating
fight. The stage driver, whose name
was Bunker. and the station agent
were approaching with his trunk. The
driver removed the horses blankets
and threw them into the pung.
You better wrap the kids in these, %
he said. "What's your name, little
one? Harriet Williams? An your
sister? Oh, her names Lucy, is it?'
Bunker climbed to the seat of the
pung, evading Wetherel's best attempt
to make him take the middle of the