The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1904-08-25

IN 4 CHAIR SAT THE MAN WHOM WE
CALLED UNCLE.
aloud. ] had often known him to do
this when he thought himself alone.
SHOULD l feel this?" he cried. "Should
see 1t for the crime that it is il | did
not love herr
| knew well enough what he was
thinking about. A perfect echo of that
agonized question rang In my own
mind. | saw the crime, as he saw 1t.
and loved far deeper than he did, for
he had not my strength.
Picture a girl of eighteen who is the
sum OF all holy and beautiful promises,
like some pure flower in the morning.
Picture n man past fifty, ford, smil-
ing, self contented, successful human
animal, man SO entirely common that
he has not even a pet vice to make HIM
self distinctive, a man who has won
many things in the world and will take
this girl in the same way as his due
for the effort expended in the matter.
Fancy that she will give herself for
gratitude because the man has been
kind to her, because he has fed and
clothed her since she was child, hav-
ing been the friend of her father, who
died poor and without kin.
Ormond began to walk up and down
before the window, and, thinking that
he would see me, l passed on to the
head Of the stairs and SO to the draw
Ing room. where Gladys was playing
on the piano.
In large easy chair sat the man
whom we all called uncle, though he
bore that relationship to none Of us.
There was traceable tie between Mr..
Greer and myself, but I am not suffi-
GENTLY versed In such matters to give
1t a name. Ormond would have found
the task even more difficult in his own
case, and. as to Gladys, there was not
even legal guardianship.
Mr.. Greer's eyes We're half shut, SO
that he could see nothing clearly ex-
cept Gladys face and her hair, which
had red glow in the light Of the
plano lamp. He heard me, but did not
turn his head or speak. He waved
his left hand gently toward me as a
warning to be quiet, while his right
with the fat forefinger pointing toward
the girl, continued to beat time some
what lnboriously
He never cared what Gladys played,
enjoying all kinds of music equally, SO
long as her hands evoked it from the in
strument I have seen him sit and smile
To 1rva a1gN
beat time contentedly to a nocturne of
Chopin's mt to make the soul weep In
ones body. And when 1t would be over
he would slap down his fat palm hard
upon tho arm Of the chair and say 1t was
q good tune. a pretty tune, and nobody
else but Gladys could play 1t as 1t ought
to be played. Then she would laugh at
him and tease him with chords and dis
cords which he couldn't tell apart. but he
would be pleased to think that she was
teaching him. and tears OF JOY would
come Into his eyes.
On this particular occasion the girl was
wrapped up In music and the man In that
crude. half childish happiness which her
presence always yielded him. skunk into
chair and viewed this homely and ia
miliar spectacle with horror, as had not
failed to do since the day when, with an
absurd frankness which he himself was
lar from intending. Mr.. Greer had reveal
ed his hopes to all Of US. neither heard
nor saw Ormond enter the room. but
felt him there He had his back against
the frame of the doorway. and so he stood
and scowled at Mr.. Greer.
In this singular household there HAD
grown up through the years strong hab-
It OF cheerfulness. Even Ormond laughed
and Tested at home. though I think he
never did % elsewhere. Mr.. Greer loved
laughter. and he possessed a quaint wit
that could provoke 1t, wit without SUBJ
Nety and without coarseness. amusingty
duil. like Dundreary's. and Irresistible Ia
the perfect sincerity OF Its good nature.
There had never been quarrel in that
housa, never . meal without the benedtc-
ticn q nerriment. never an evening when