The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1902-01-08
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brennanS
!. ~@ 1Ss Bly,.
N1O Ceceily Allen
Copyright, 1901, by
A. =. Richardson.

The entire neighborhood had long
since decided that Mrs. Brennan's
youngest hopeful would close his earth
ly career through the unwelcome at
tentions of the proyerbial hangman.
Maggie Brennan, aged fifteen, was n
popular employee at Johnson's cigar
factory. Young Dan was district
messenger boy, and even little Jennie
earned odd pennies by caring for the
neighbors children when the latter
were called away to christenings, fu-
nerals and weddings.
But from the day that the kid"
at the tender age of nine months, had
fallen from the fire escape to the area
way, striking three clotheslines en-
route. and had sat up, bowling vigor-
ously, but unhurt, his young life had
been marked by succession of stir
ring and nerve distracting events.
Even his good natured Irish mother
had begun to regard him as hopeless,
and his one friend was pretty Miss
Harris, whose pink and blue shirt
waists and daintily embroidered skirts
decorated the Brennan clothes horse
each ironing day. Meta Harris always
declared that the Kid was particu-
iarly intelligent and some day would
perform a great deed.
On this afternoon the "Kid," having
reached the age of three and having
acquired sufficient wisdom to snatch
stick of llcorlce from weaker and
meeker playmate in the gutter. had
wandered far from home.
An overdose of licorice on this hot,
sultry day had affected the kid" as
nothing had ever done before. He
yearned for the narrow, dim court and
the towering tenement, to say nothing
of a drink and his mothers restful
bosom. But all around him was mud
the thick, yellow mud of a newly open
ed street, and beyond dlsgustingly new
cottages painted In aesthetic tints and
surrounded by gardens laid out in
geometrical flower and lawn patterns
that is, all were thus laid out save one.
1t was ovcrgrown with weeds, which
had choked out the flowers planted
there early In the spring.
A young man in a natty flannel suit
had paused mt the gate and was sur
yeying with a clouded brow the scene
of desolation. 1t hardly seemed pos
sible that just four months previous
he and she had planted those flowers,
coming up each evening to water them,
pick out the weeds and put finishing
touches within doors.
The parlor furniture had been put in
place. Even some of the shining tin
ware had found its way to the small
pantry when the quarrel came.
lie had done his best to smooth over
the difficulty, but finally one afternoon
he had walked over to the little cot
tage, which represented his savings Of
two hard years, closed and barred the
windows and doors and with a heavy
heart had walked out through the small
gate. Never again had he been near
the burial ground of his high hopes
until this evening. Vaguely he had felt
lately that something ought to be done
with the place.
The frown deepened as he turned
away and marched resolutely down
the street. lie would see real estate
man at once and offer the place at any
South America. The papers all said
there were great openings down there
for clever fellows from the States.
Mamma! Ma
Jack Griswold stopped communing
with the disagreeable past and stared
down upon a bedraggled, forlorn bit of
humanity.
Hello, old chap. Are you black or
white?"
The 'old chap" resented the familiar
address, fell to weeping Justify and
rolled disconsolately in the soft mud.
"Oh, | say" exclaimed Jack, bend
ing over the little fellow you mustn't
do that You'll be sight. Guess you're
lost"
Griswold glanced heplessly at the
neat cottages and then at the child of
the slums How ever did the youngster
get way out here? And his sobs were
actually pitiful. Jack thought of a
policeman, but such officials We're sell
dom needed In this quiet neighborhood.
Finally pity overcame discretion, and
Jack grasped a small hand and led the
runaway toward the cottage over
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 denzen of Diggle's
court.
'.There When l get few layers Of
dirt off I'll take you to the nearest po-
lice station, and they can locate your
ma. But I'll be hanged If I'd drag
such u connecting link as you were
through the streets"
A fresh handkerchief was sacrificed
on the altar Of cleanliness, and then
Griswold started toward the door with
his unexpected charge. But here an
other 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
storm passed by.
Griswold sank into q rocker in the
tiny parior, and mis- Brennan's Kid"
clambered Familiarity upon his knee
The afternoon was sultry, the little
head sank lower and lower ON Girls
wold's immaculate flannel suit, and
soon soft. even breathing filled the
quiet room.
The storm gathered and burst, but
the child slept on, and Grlswold, with