Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1905-04-14
The IlIGIGGSSOl Of me Child.
! NY luck, Duke r

NJ
in She looked up with forced
smile as her husband entered
their studio, they termed 1t, but as
matter Of fact 1t was their garnet
and the only room they had.
He shook his head YEARLY as he
placed the canvases on the table.
1.-THE dealers are full up, and /
haven't sold one"
Never mind" she answered, tender
Iy-'Iuck must change soon"
Heaven only knows that ours has
been black enough since we married. .
Dearest" she said, reproachfully
and she gathered closer to her breast
the sleeping child, whose face was so
dear to her, with the blue eyes Of her
husband and its halo OF fair, curling
locks, there Is little Ruth"
Marmaduke Seton gazed modify
into the fire. His thoughts were far
from pleasant ones. Until four years
ago he had never known that dread
feeling Of want His father, Sir Mar
maduke Seton, a very wealthy man,
had completely spoiled him. Not a
wish remained unsatished, and his al
Aowanco was 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.
Thare 10 no doubt that in time Sir
Marmaduke would have Felented and
have countenanced his son in his ar
ttstic ambition, but 40 luck would have
Il, Duke went into the country to paint
Landscapes. There he met Ruth, HE
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 win you have.
The choice remains with you"
Duke did make his G.loice and mar
ried. The Inevitable occurred and lit
tie Ruth was the browning blessing to
9 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 q weary fight with starvation.
Their studio cost them four shil-
Angs q week-an attic or the Gray's
YIN roadr-and their food cost them Of
ten lesR Their thin faces and wearied
smiles were speaking evidence OF their
nfa But little Ruth's bonny face bore
signs Of 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 child's chatter. The sun
was shining brilliantly through the
windows Of the roof.
II viii so the rounds again." he
said, as he took up his canvases. II
win be back soon with your breakfast,
] hope darling. Goodbye, little one."
There were tears In his eyes as he
leaned 10 kiss bis 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 q while.
In q few moments che grew tired and
wandered to the landing head. She
walked down q few steps.
Her mother went on with her work.
now and then stopping for moment
60 dash the streaming tears from her
eyes.
Little Ruth reached the street.
(which way did dad goY' she lisped
Co 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.
81 find him soon-dad, dear dad. BE
d crying, poor dad" she murmured.
A sudden run to cross the street a
Shrek, the pulling up OF horses, and
the little one lay mottonless In the
arms Of kindly policeman. A quar-
ter Of an hour afterward she was be-
1ng attended to by the house surgeon
OF a neighbOring hospital.
A simple fracture Of the arm" be