The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1904-01-21

6IE3l jIE7i DO wish, little girls, you
E-S3 would keep quiet for two
consecutive minutes"
A-I The Rev. Mr.. Brewsford
tG5A lsas was sitting at his study
va..e, surrounded by antique looking
Greek tcstaments, leXicons and manu-
script folios, trying to reason his way
through knotty point of church doc
Eire, while, in the wide seat OF the
low window beyond, just on level
with the street, two little girls OF
eight and ten were curled up like
plump white kittens Of larger growth
chattering on the respective merits OF
colony Of staring dolls.
Meta Brewsford, the younger, was as
fair as spring anemone, with floating
curls of silky gold, and blue, glittering
eyes; while her cousin, Eloise, was
darker and more gypsy like in her
childish beauty, given, moreover, to
) laying down the law to Meta, and TAX
ing every possible advantage Of her
two years Of seniority.
''You see, Meta" she gravely CON-
menced, II am older than you, and
'tHush wild you clatterin', childher!'
corrected Bridget, who had just come
in to lay the table for lunch, for it was
in the sunny dining room where Mr.
Brewsford loved to study, and his little
people to play, since Mrs. BrewSford's s
death had somehow thrown gloom
over the rest of the house. "Sorra bit
your poor papa can write an you a
buzzin' there like a hive O. bees in
swarmin' time"
Meta was just looking up to remon-
strate, when a sunbrowned, sWarthy
countenance was aattened against the
plate glass window that overlooked the
street, and hoarse voice pleaded:
"Please, miss, give poor boy piece
o. bread?"
Meta started back with little cry
as the big, black eyes, glittering with
restless, uncertain light, met hers-the
eyes Of boy about eleven, whose rags
scarcely clung to his 1.-the, supple figure
and who carried a basket on one arm.
"Get along wild ye" cried Bridget,
shaking her fist at the apparition on
the other side Of the window, "or I'll
call a policeman, that will
s But Meta's soft little heart relented.
Slipping down from her temporary
throne on the window seat she ran to
her fathers side.
"Papa, it's poor boy. and he looks
so hungry; can't I give him piece OF
bread? Say, papa, can I call him in:'
'Call him in, indeed" echoed Eloise,
haughtily. why, uncle, he's as dirty
as a charcoal man, but it's just like
Metar'
Mr.. Brewsford, slowly struggling out
of the misty realms Of dead and gone
centuries, looked hopelessly from one
to the other Of the little speakers.
"Who is dirty? What is it that you
want, Meta?"
And then. aroused to a sense Of what
was transpiring around him, he said:
Certainly, of course. Open the door,
Bridget, and call the poor boy in."
And Johnny Piper, summoned by the
unwilling Bridget, SUNK into the
room, like a young pariah as he was
staring around him, while Eloise
started back, gathering her dainty
silken skirts around her as if there
were pollution in the very air she
breathed
Keep away from me, you dirty
boy" she said, while Meta ran to pile
sundry slices Of bread in his basket.
Papa, can give him an apple:' she
pleaded.
Meta, don't" warned Eloise. "There
are only three red aples for lunch"
"He can have mine. I don't want It.
I would much rather he should eat it
Here, boy, is red apple, and
But shrill outcry from Bridget
checked her in her half-uttered speech.
did ye ever see the likes o that
masther, dear? See now. it's the silver
fork off the table intirely that he's hid
den away undher the rags O him, ano
us putin the bread in his mouth, the
ungrateful spalpeen!"
81 told you so,'' complacently enun
ciated Eloise.
It was too true; the Juvenile culprit
caught in the very act. had no word OF
defense to plead as he stood with
down-hanging head, while Bridget
aourished aloft the silver fork she lac
pulled from one of his ragged coat
pockets.
"Masther, will call the police" she
demanded, triumphantly.
But Meta began to cry.
Papa! papa: don't send him TO jail
he's so little" she pleaded.
'Itll be good for him. the murdherin
young thafer' cried Bridget
Its just what he deserves.' salt
Eloise. While the boy himself brok'
into an unmelodious howl, as h
screwed his dirty knuckles into tn
sockets Of his eyes.
"Boy, come here" said Mr.. Brews
ford. graveIy. What did you stea
that fork for?'
aWanted to sell it to Old Joe, u