Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1902-04-24
A DIFFERENT ENDING
BY CHARLES TOWNSEND.

1t was a foolish quarrel over nothing in
particular. For that matter, though, most
quarrels are foolish, whether between in
dividuals or nations. In this case, as usual,
both were wrong; yet neither would admit
it. Both were proud; both were high spir-
tied; she was willful, he was stubborn. SO
there you are.
She sent him frosty note with his ring
and other trinkets. He bundled up the
various mementoes of a stormy, happy,
past" and sent them to her without word.
She cried a-little to herself, then plunged
into the whirl of society and apparently
Forgot him. He swore considerably to HIM
self, and then betook him to the strenuous
west, where he actually did forget her.
Well. All this happened seven years ago
in small eastern city, where everything
looked dwarfed to Corson that wintry after
noon. He had returned with comfortable
fortune, made partly in "boom" town and
partly in Klondike trading, and had turned
homeward to enjoy some well-earned rest
and recreation.
The cold, short day was already in the
cleaning, while here and there lights were
flashing through the eddying snow.
Corson had started out blithely enough
to look up some of his former friends, but
was doomed to disappointment, for with
few exceptions the old crowd was scattered
and gone. And those who remained seemed
but ghosts of their former selves, settled
down as they were into a humdrum life
which moved in narrow and ever narrow
ing circles.
''The burgh is dead as nails" he muttered
as he plodded on through the snow, after a
dreary call on one of his old friends who
seemed blissfully unconscious of the fact
that he was buried alive in an unprogressive
town. "The place is dead, the people are
dead, and nobody seems to know it or care
a continental-hello! Who's this?"
Corson's TRADE suddenly stopped. He
had nearly stumbled over little girl who
stood before him in the storm-swept street;
a morsel of humanity, bare headed, clothed
in rags and sobbing bitterly.
STOPPING down, Corson gathered up the
child in his strong arms.
whats the matter, little one?" he
asked, cheerily.
81 ruined away, and I'm frozed, I is,
and I-I-I'm los'ed," sobbed the mite.
''Ran away, Ell? Well then you must run
back again"
Ill., anu Iuc ulOIe IuuucO IuS JIkOl Z
way off [ was"
''That 500 All right; I'll take you home.
Where do you hve?"
81 live t home," with fresh sob, "and
want my mamma and Kitty
20 come now, dearie, don't cry" sooth-
ingly, you shall have your mother and
your kitten, too
''Kitty amt cstw Indignantly, Sits a
doll"
'.Why, of course" agreed Corson, as he
placed the child on the ground for mo-
ment while he whipped off his heavy over
coat. Then he wrapped the little one in it.
"Now, them" he inquired, as he picked her
up again and. STROBE down the street, what
is your name"
pet, gently" came from the depths of the
overcoat.
That's pretty name; but what is your
other one?"
''Well," obviously, mamma was goin' to
erect me once, and then she called me Amy
Leslie German
Amy Leslie? That was her name! Could
it be that
''But she didn't do it," went on the young
lady, triumphantly, cause Ora ma Leslie
'jected to it."
Grandmother Leslie-that was Amy's
mother-his Amy. There was no longer
any doubt of it. And she objected? Quite
right, too, in this case, he thought, al
though Directing was one of Mrs. Leslie's
strong points. On general principles she
usually did object to almost everything ex-
cept the sound of her own voice. 1t was
this habit of hers, ne remembered, which
had brought on his quarrel with Amy. He
wondered if she still held the fort. 'Does
she live with you now" he asked.
NO." was the solemn answer, "she amt
Twin anywhere now, cause she's a nangel. J"
If Corson had any doubts as to Mrs. Les
lies angelage he wisely said nothing.
An my papa's went away, too" con-
tinued the young lady, $50 I'm 'fraid he's
gone to be a nangel long with her"
Corson was not imaginative in the least,
but here was a whole life romance opened
before him like book. Amy married, wild
owed and in dire poverty. He had never
sought wealth for wealth's sake; but for
once he felt a glow of keen delight in the
thought that he was rich man. Perhaps
well, Amy should have friend indeed, if
nothing more.
care we mos home?" queried Miss Cor
man.
Il guess so. Are you cold!"
"No, thank you. I'm very conf able now,
an you're beautiful man to carry me so
nice"
Corson's "beauty" was not of the prize
winning variety, but children often see bet
ter than their elders.
An empty cab appeared through the snow
cloud, and Corson hailed the driver. The
Germans? Yes, he knew the address.
Corson paid the driver literally, told him
not to wait, and then climbed out gently
with his little charge, who was sleeping
soundly. The storm, meanwhile, had grown
wilder with the night, and Corson staggered
blindly up the steps, paying scant heed to
the surroundings. His arrival had been OBJ
served, however, by some one in the house,
and, before he could ring, the door flew open,
ushering him into wide, brilliantly lighted