Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1904-11-05
The IDIeTCeSSiOl OIL The Child.
NY luck. Duke 2"

llaced the canvases on the table.
"The dealers are full up, and I
haven't sold one"
Never mind" she answered, tender
y-"luck must change soon"
Heaven only knows that ours has
Deen black enough since we married."
Dearest" she said, reproachfully.
nd she gathered closer to her breast
he sleeping child, whose face was so
lear to her, with the blue eyes Of her
husband and its halo Of fair, curling
ocEs, there is little Ruth"
Marmaduke Seton gazed modify
nto the fire. His thoughts were far
rom pleasant ones. Until four years
lgo he had never known that dread
ceiling Of want His father, Sir Mar
naduke Seton, a very wealthy man,
had completely spoiled him. Not
wish remained unsatished, and his al
.owance was a princely one.
This bringing up had the usual re-
suit. Duke made up his mind that he
was an artist and nothing would shake
him in this connection.
Not even the threat of his fathers
dire displeasure would persuade him
to throw down his brush.
There is no doubt that In time Sir
Marmaduke would have relented and
have countenanced his son in his ar
| ttstic ambition, but as luck would have
it, Duke went into the country to paint
! landscapes. There he met Ruth his
wife, the daughter of the vicar, and at
once proceeded to make love. A few
weeks afterward he proposed to her
and was accepted.
Sir Marmaduke did not rage when
| the engagement was announced to
him. He wrote a few lines.
MARRY this girl and | have done
with you. Not a sou will you have.
| The choice remains with you"
Duke did make his choice and mar
ried. The inevitable occurred and lit
tie Ruth was the browning blessing to
a happy marriage. Not for two years
did they begin to feel the pinch OF
poverty. The ready money which he
had and the realization of his jewelry
kept them going for that length Of
time. But the last six months had
been a weary fight with starvation.
Their Studio" cost them four shil-
lings a week-an attic off the Grays
Inn road--and their food cost them Of
ten less Their thin faces and wearied
smiles were speaking evidence of their
life But little Ruth's bonny face bore
signs of a mothers love and care
There is plenty of lard and pota-
toes, let us fry them" Ruth said
cheerfully, as she placed the child on
her bed.
The next morning they were awak-
ened by the chllds chatter The sun
was shining brilliantly through the
windows of the roof
II will go the rounds again." he
said, as he took up his canvases. 81
will be back soon with your breakfast,
hope, darling. Goodbye, little one"
There were tears In his eyes as he
leaned to kiss his little girl.
His wife stood looking at the open
doorway, through which her husband
had disappeared. Then, with a sigh,
she started cleaning their room.
The little one looked on for a while.
In a few moments she grew tired and
wandered to the landing head. She
walked down a few steps.
Her mother went on with her work,
now and then stopping for a moment
to dash the streaming tears from her
eyes.
Little Ruth reached the street.
(Which way did dad goY she lisped
to herself.
After a moments hesitation she
turned to the left A hundred yards
ahead she reached Theobald's road
and toddled along in the direction of
Oxford street.
'T find him soon-dad, dear dad. He
is crying, poor dad" she murmured.
A sudden run to cross the street, a
shrek, the pulling up OF horses, and
the little one lay motonless in the
arms of a kindly policeman A quar-
ter OF an hour afterward she was be-
ing attended to by the house surgeon
of a neighboring hospital.
"a simple fracture OF the arm" he