The Owosso times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1897-1926, 1904-12-23
ed up phorograph from an inside pock.

ped up Photograph from an inside peck
ct and showed it proudly.
Hair brown, like yours, and curly"
suggested Thornton, land blue eyes,
too, reckon"
Eyes, sub. She's the prettiest moth
er you ever saw" said the boy. 81
don't know any lady that can come up
TO her"
"She certainly is mighty fine look
ing" returned Thornton heartily as he
handed back the picture
He paid the bill, and the two went
out into the street.
81 reckon Thornton said, "you
wouldn't mind sleeping in real bed
tonight. Wen, I've got a big double
bed up to the hotel, and it'll be just
about a fit for us two. No. sir; I'm
not going to let guest go that way
1t amt the way we. entertain our
friends back home, and you've just got
to come along with me-"
Thornton did not sleep much that
night. He lay awake to think of the
home the boy described-of its big oaks
and 'chaney" trees. of its clean swept
yard of white sand. of the negro cabins
sitting in the midst of cotton fields, of
the long, wailing calls of men echoing
through the woods as nightfall came
and the melancholy crying Of the whip
poorwill in the dusk.
a great wave of Inconsistencies swept
over the man. What would he give to
see it all again? And why shouldn't
he? What was to hinder?
lie turned and looked at the sleeping
boy. ut wouldn't be a bad idea," said
he thoughtfully. 81 reckon she'd be
right glad to see him. certainly
would like to see the meeting"
1t was Christmas morning when the
train at last dropped Thornton and the
boy at -Four Pines Station. They had
telegrapbed from Silver Bow they were
coming, and the old, rickety carriage
was waiting for them, with white
wooded Peter grinning on the front
seat.
1.-THE mistis didn't like to come in
because of the drinkin' an drammin',
but she says / was to bum the grit
goin' back" he explained as they rat
tied out of the village.
Everything was good to Thornton on
that drive. The creaking OK carts they
passed, the sunbonneted women rub
bling snuff at cabin doors, the thin
hounds lying asleep in the sun, the
rich, soft voices of the people they
met; the gaunt razorbacks scuttling
under the horses hoofs, the stick and
mud chimneys, the martin gourds
swinging from the high poles-all gave
him welcome home and wished him
merry Christmas.
He sent the boy ahead when, at the
turn of the road the stately old white
pillared house came in sight, feeling
that in the greeting between mother
and son there was no place for a
stranger, and walked slowly up the |
grass grown avenue.
She and the boy were waiting for
him at the gate-a slender, graceful fig |
ure she was, looking hardly old enough |
to be the mother of the lad beside her.
AS Thornton came near she ran for |
ward and gave him her hand.
Glow can l ever repay you, Mr.. |
Thornton" she cried, 'for all your
kindness to my boy and for bringing |
him back to meT'
81 don't know as l did bring him |
back. It seems more like he brought |
me- I'd never have got started but for
meeting Glenn"
"But at least can try to thank you |
for my 'Chris'mus gif.'"
81 ought to do the thanking, ma'am. |
If you had seen what lonesome, sorry |
Christmas l was expecting to have the
night l met your boy" replied Thorn
ton gravely-"well, l reckon you'd say |
1t was who got the Christmas gif.'"
And as events turned out it was