The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1904-10-08

| bad as his father? 1t ism fair; 1T out
rageous But tell you it is lie, sir. -
'sWhat bred in the bone, you know,
was the colonel's answer
Harold could have felled him to the
ground, but he turned on his heel to leave
the room? At the door he faced round
''You do not believe it, Grace?'' he
asked, half fearful as to what the answer
would be.
LAS stand here l swear before God
it Is true, replied the colonel. "My
child knows nothing.
Half an hour later Harold stood before
his mother, his eyes ablaze with anger and
indignation, his breath coming in short
gasps, his hands eli nched until his finger
nails bit into his palms, and Mrs. Pen
stone, sitting in a low chair, held her face
between her hands, sobbing as if her heart
would break, while tears trickled through
her fingers.
'Why did you not tell me?' he de-
manded. "You say it is true. Why was
| not told?''
Il never thought it would be neeessa-
ry, she sobbed. II always thought to
hide it.
Truth will out, mother, he answered.
But it was not your fault, my poor
boy, she said. ''You are not response
bic for your father sin.
Her sobs ceased suddenly and she lay
quite still in her chair. He pulled her
hands from her face, lifted her head, and
then fell back
Heavens he cried; ''she's dead.
This shock has killed her. Mother,
motherr'
The Judge sat in his private room be-
hind the court, awaiting the arrival of his
carriage to take him home. He had had
an exceptional hard days work and felt
weary, and wheH the clerk of the court
asked him if he would see visitor-a lady
visitor-he felt in little mood to grant the
audience
Il will see her in the morning, he
said
She says its matter of life and
death, sir In connection with the young
girl Spencer, who was sentenced to a
month Imprisonment this afternoon for
theft. think it 5 her mother.
But | can do nothing now.
The clerk hesitated, and in the silence
the Judge heard without the sounds of
woman's Sobs
''0h, well, show her in. I'll see her
for FIVE minutes. Let me know imme-
diately my carriage arrives.
The woman was ushered in. She was
dressed in black and wore heavy veil.
Presently the judge invited her to be
seated and, taking chair in the shadow,
she lifted her veil
You wish to see me with reference to
Mary Spencer, | believe, he said.
yes, came the answer through her
tears. Il am her mother. | don think
our lawyer put the case right for you.
am sure it was but an instance of klepto-
mania, your honor
MY dear madam, | am sorry for you,
but | can do nothing now, was the reply.
The punishment only fits the crime, and
it is no excuse that you are rich people.
4 poor person would have had to suffer
the same
But she is only 20, your honor,
pleaded the woman. Think Of the dis
grace.
Il can do nothing, madam.
The clerk Knocked and entered.
Your carriage has arrived, your hon
or. and he closed the door.
The judge rose.
II am sorry, madam, but | can do
nothing, he repeated.
The woman left her seat.
Not for me, Harold, she cried, fall
ing on her knees.
He started back.
Grace Ashford, he cried in aston
ishmeut
Have mercy, she pleaded, IF my
father
Broke my heart and killed my moth
er, he continued, it was not your fault,
know, Mrs Spencer, no blame attaches
to you.
Again the clerk entered.
The carriage is waiting, sir, he said.
HaIold Penstone, old and gray at 53,
put on his hat aud took his walking stick.
Good night, he said to the clerk.
See the lady into cab can do moth
Ing for her
And he passed out, while Mrs. Spencer
buried her head on her arms and wept