The Savannah morning news., 1902-11-23


| draperies of a cosy corner In Jennie's
| fiat. Cosy corner" was no misnomer
| in this instance. for Jennie and her
husband made a corner for Silas in
their home and their hearts. Their well
come was no empty form, and gradual
ly, like a flower long struggling to
bloom in a shady corner. Silas raised
his head to the Difference never before
| shown him. In GAINESVILLE, he had been
Emeline Amelia's husband. In New
York he became my father" and the
tone in the words were spoken filled
his heart with a self-confldence he had
not known in years.
When he had exhausted the sights of
the metropolis, he formed the habit of
| dropping into his son-in-law's broker
age establishment, and here among
Jim Ferris business acquaintance he
| formed friendships. At first his quaint
homely philosophy. his naive observa-
! tons on life as he found II on Change
| amused these keen players in the polite
| game of graft known as Finance, and
| they gave him tips" Then the same
| spirit of reckless assurance which pos
| sessed him the day of the horse race at
GAINESVILLE seemed to animate him. For
days and days he would whittle and
smoke and chaff with the men who
| came and went in Ferris office, and
suddenly, without consulting his aston
| ished son-in-law, he would plunge"
| and, to the wonder of all, invariably
| landed on the right side of the market
| Men laughed at what they termed his
dumb luck" but nevertheless more
| than one timid buyer watched the way
old man Humphreys" jumped. And as
his shoulders Strengthened and his
| bank account grew Silas Humphreys
| gradually laid aside certain tokens of
his life on the farm. His clothes were
made to order by Jim Ferris tailor
| he became punctilious regarding his
| personal appearance, wore a carnation
in his buttonhole, and. as the climax
of these cartorial glories, he invested
| in a dress suit.
When the latter was brought home,
| he laid 1t forth proudly before the
| eyes of his astounded daughter, and
seeing the expression on her face, he
| remarked with an apologize cough:
You see, Jennie, IL my daughter can
| set herself UP as mistress of a house
| like this, and not make breaks to
| shame her husband and his fine
| friends, I've got to do my share to-
ward making the family bluff good
We've got to be a credit to Jim. If
| 1t hadn't been for Jim I'd"
He broke off suddenly and walked to
| the window. A warm spring day was
melting all trace of a late furry of
| snow. The grayish water trickled from
roof to window ledge, and ne watched
| it as one fascinated. The snow must
| be melting on the stubborn north field.
| The brook running through the woods
must be riotous and yellowsh- brown
| to-day. The Plymouth Rocks and Leg
| horns would be pluming themselves in
the sunshine. The barn would fairly
| flaunt it's new coat Of paint in the
face of a late spring.
| For the barn had been painted, and
the COW sheds remodeled and a new
fence built around the meadow land.
| There was a new bay window on the
south side of the dining room, and a
| new cook stove in the kitchen. Things
| must be looking very prosperous. Eme-
| line Amelia had written this and more.
Her letters reached him every Tues
day morning, filled with details of a
life so busy that he had an odd sense
| of being utterly out of it. Not that he
| could blame Emeline Amelia for this.
He had come to New York of his own
free will and accord. He had given her
the farm to do with as she willed
and yet-here were the crops being
planted the stock being fed. the house
being remodeled, Emeline Amelia be-
ing elected president of the Sewing
Circle, and a member of the New Idea
Woman's Club-and all without his
aid.
Moments like these he had had be.
fore, and Jennie with a tact rare in
women of her years, seemed to read
his thoughts. Her hand was slipped
through his arm. her soft cheek
| pressed against his clean shaven, un-
wrlnkled face, but no word passed her
lips. She seemed to realize, in spite of
her own happy home life. that her
fathers was watching without COM
plant his own matrimonial tragedy.
She and Jim often talked of his
| strange reticence and pondered over
the contents of those weekly letters
for something told them that SiIas
never wrote to Emeline Amelia the de-
| tails of his daily life. With summer,
they decided that surely he would take
run up to the farm, but he informed
| them with quiet air of finality that
| ne was going up north with some OF
| MS business acquaintances for a fish,
| ing trip. Their surprise he passed over
with laughing remark that as he had
always been punished for every fish,
ing trip he had taken in his school
days, he guessed he would Just make
| up for 1t now.
And all the time his bank account
| grew. Whenever things came his way,
| as ne quietly expressed 1t, he rein
vested part of his profits, bought Jim
and Jennie a present and banked the
| remainder. These family gifts appar-
emily gave him intense satisfaction
but the two young people never heard
OF his sending anything to the farm.
And so the summer came and went
| The leaves turned and the air became
| frosty. Silas had been away from the
| farm over a year. Sometimes Jim won
| dered whether he had lost all interest
| In the old life, whether he had really
learned to live without the wife for
| whom he had laborede all through his
| young manhood. Then came the even
| ing which he and Jennie never forgot
| There had been company for dinner,
| and Jennie sat I'm the freight toying
| with her fathers latest gift, a tiny
| gold lorgnette. Jim, with his back
| against the mantel, smiled down upon
her, and Silas smiled upon them both,
| but there was a hint of tears in his
| eyes as he watched them. He cleared
| his throat, and the two younger peo-
| pie swung round to look at him.
I'm going home"
The relief, the yearning, the happi-
ness and the touch of sorrow which
| mingled in that brief sentence held his
| listeners spellbound. Siias drew a long
| breath and gazed round the room, with
| its subdued hangings, it's shaded lights
and its dainty bric-a-brac.
"You two have made me very hap
| py. There amt anything Jennie could
| do for her old father that she's failed
| in, but just the same there amt been
day that my soul amt hungered for
| that old farm, for every inch OF dirt