Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1902-12-22

man of agriculture. Over the sunny
pathway of this favored couple there
had fallen but one sorrow-a sorrow SO
/ deep that it Swallowed all their joys. In
the little neglected cemetery lay buried
the one great hope and idol of Robert
and Mary Strand.
When Mrs. Strand had seen the sup
per arrangements under full swing, she
exchanged the light gown for more
pretentious one, united the big gray
horse from the red post, and once more
climbed into the phaeton.
BE sure to have supper ready at six
o'clock, Ami" she called to the servant,
as she drove away. MIR. Strand will
be real hungry after his long ride on
the cars, and so will L."
"Shure, Miss Stra- han!" Ann shouted
back, In a rich brogue. and returned to
/ her task of beating eggs, cutting dough
into little patties, spreading jelly upon
appetizfng looking tarts, and doing a
hundred other things.
| Meanwhile, the mistress of the house
| hold was on her way to the little village
OF Stratford, three miles from the farm.
| Having arrived there, she tied the horse
to a railing outside the depot platform.
and sat down in the combined ladies'
and gentlemen's waiting room. The
rickety and solitary town omnibus elat-
| tered up and let out commercial trav-
eler or two. The man with the bag OF
mail over his shoulder came sauntering
| along and dumped his burden on the
platform. The village loungers ambled
over to see the train come in, and the
dingy old depot took on the lively and
expectant air that precedes train time
at country station.
Good afternoon, Mrs. Strand" said
| the station agent, courteously lifting his
| hat rs Mr.. Strand coming home to-
day?"
"Yes, Mr.. Reddy, hope so. He was
| to have been here day before yester-
day, but he wrote that business would
detain him for several days. I was aw-
fully disappointed, because had plan
ned little social time at our house for
tonight with some of the neighbors.
You see, it's my birthday, Mr.. Reddy-
no, you needn't ask me how old am,
for / won't tell Well, this morning /
got another line saying he'd be home
tonight. Wasn't that fine! And I'm
just dying to know what it was that
kept him away so long, and-and-to
find out what he's brought me for my
birthday"
Mrs. Strand laughed merrily. and the
affable station agent was about to say
something very witty, when long.
hoarse whistle in the distance announce
ed the approach of the train. The sta
ton agent hurried out unceremoniously
the loungers lined up against the depot
the mail carrier seized the leather bag,
and the big gray horse stuck his ears
forward and jerked up his head, as If he
had half mind to run away-which he
hadn't at all.
The long train Slid UP to the depot
and stopped IN the midst of much hiss /
and Changing and creaking OF brakes.
The one or two drummers climbed
aboard and two passengers got off. One
was Robert Strand, the other a very
small boy in brand new knickerbocker
suit, with big, puzzled, brown eyes and
wan face, and who clasped Mr..
Strands hand as tightly as he could
with his own. Mrs. Strand started for
ward the moment she saw her husband,
to give him an eager reception, but her
eyes, falling en- the small boy the next
instant, she stopped in establishment.
The following moment she found her
self clasped in the arms of her liege
lord.
Just little surprise, Mary!" he
whispered, as he kissed her. Il have
brought you a birthday present. It's
the best thing I could find. Mary-the
very best. 1t was sent to me; God sent
ii, Mary--sent it because he took away
our-our Bob! This is another Bob, a |
homeless, forsaken Bob. Fortune threw |
him in my way, and he will not be
homeless any longer, will he, Mary?o
Mr. Strand couldn't have said any |
thing more just then, if he had tried, |
for there was singular lump that in
sisted on rising in his throat, and when |
Mrs. Strand looked into his eyes she saw |
they looked peculiar-like the sky just |
before 1t rains.
1t was all so sudden, so unexpected, I
that for a few seconds she could not
realize it. A birthday present!-Bob!-|
the little stranger standing there and
clinging to her husbands coat, with the
scared look on his face. Could 1T be
true! Then suddenly her body, from
her head to her feet, thrilled with a
mighty emotion. The joys and griefs of
all her life seemed to surge again into
her breast. She knelt on the railway
platform and took the child to her
heart.
The kissing. changing train pulled out
and left her there; the mail carrier
stood with his sack over his shoulder,
watching her, the town loungers, lined
up against the depot, stared at her; but
she saw nothing, she cared nothing |:
whether they stared or not. Her eyes
were too full of tears to see; her heart
too full of joy to care. To her 1t was
Bob she was claspinS once more in her
little stranger whom God
had sent; it was Bob's soft cheek she
felt against her own; they We're Bobs
.ears that mingled with hers. What
cared she for all the loungers on earth!
Bob--her Bob-had come back.
The big gray horse logged along and
1rew them away to the farm-jogged
along as unconcernedly as IT nothing
whatever had happened; as uncon- ;
as If new era Of happiness
lad not commenced in the Strand
Yes, Bob, lying under the violets in
he little neglected graveyard, it was
you indeed, who came back! 1t was
,or-yorA cherished memory-that
anne back and gave to this other Bob
| home! Then let it not be said that
rou sleep to no purpose under the flow
RS of the graveyard!
With Bob between them, Mr.. and Mrs.