Aberdeen herald. [volume] (Aberdeen, Chehalis County, W.T.) 1886-1917, 1902-06-09


to hope and pray.
Her boy Tom had run away from
home before his drunken father had
died. He had written her just one line:
Gone to the Philippines with Twenty
seventh Infantry" He had been gone
year when his father died. She had
written to him often, but, knowing
what thOughtles boy he was, first
attributed his silence to fOrgetfulness
and neglect. When she had told him
of his fathers death she felt sure OF
some answer, and though none came
she continued to write gentle, loving.
warning letters to the absent scape-
scapegrace. He had been youth OF
some spirit, and she knew that his
fathers dishonor in their home town
had driven him into the army, but with
all her mothers cOndOning love she
could not understand why he did not
at least send her a word. She hated
the town which had been the scene Of
her own and her boys disgrace and
separation, and when the new coun-
try" was opened and the stories Of its
glowing future reached her she sold out
all her belongings and set forth to find
a home that should be her boys home.
too.
After two years Of this eventless life
Mrs. Kavanaugh came to be recognized
as one of the characters Of the town.
Most people thought her harmlessly in
sane. The sandstOrms and the careen-
ing winds, the burning suns and winter
SHOWS, had turned her withered cheeks
to parchment; her ill-made black alpaca
dress, threadbare and discolored, hung
loosely about her shrunken body. When
the third winter came she sold her
horse and buggy for $50, but bought
only shoes that she might trudge to
town and stamps and paper that she
might send her daily letter to the boy
Silent, bowed, fearless. but with
quenchless light Of hope in her mother
eyes, each day she stood in line at the
window and asked softly for the letter
that never came. The postmaster who
had half-guessed her story, tried to win
her confidence He wanted to help her
some way, but she evaded all his Ques-
tons.
And then at last there came a day
when she did not call at the postofflce.
1t wins quite an event. for the postmas-
ter and his clerk had come to regard
her visit as the one inevitable and
poignant occurrence>of each days bust
ness. So that night. suspect!ng the
worst, he drove in his buggy to her
lonely home. She was In bed, quite Ill
1t seemed. but gently grateful for his
visit.
II did my best, SIR" she told him,
but my money Is all gone. killed my
last chicken last Sunday. and now, God
help me, must sell my home, his
home" and she looked around the
wretched, candie-lighted room with
dim, wet eyes.
ut will be best for you. Mrs. Kav-
anaugh," quoth the postmaster, kindly;
you're too-that is, you're no longer
young or strong enough to live like this
Have you no relatives? No childreny
"Oh. yes, SIR" she answered. proudly
looking up. II have son, sir, a fine
boy; but he's away In the army, and It's
on his account don't want to give up"
But he persuaded her to ride to town
with him and assured her that there
would be no trouble about selling her
place.
Its not worth much, know" she
said as they drove toward town, but
much as | want to keep it. I'd rather
sell it than take charity"
He assured her that she Nigh!
board" at his home till he had sold the
place, and she went there only to lapse
into a fever that taxed the best ingenu
ity of the two doctors of the town. She
was worn, ghostly old woman when
at last she sat up and the postmaster
told her that he had sold her place for
$500