The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1905-07-11
CHAPTER Win.
Continued.

II Is not entirely ingenious to say
that all Little Bake Believes dreams
and fancies were for saranne
There was one--but was it dream
Or fancy7 1t is hard to say; scarcely
can 1t be called hope-that was one
vision, call it by what name You will,
which Little Make Believe treasured in
! her heart of hearts, on which she dwelt
and unused, and built, up airy castles
such as we weave out Of a floating
cloud in fair sky.
It became with her worship, hidden
In holy sanctuary, never spoken OF to
soul, not even to Saranne, scarcely
Ineligible as to its ending even to
herself.
But unsubstantial, unreal as it was,
1t grew into an abiding happiness, and
sweetened many bitter hour
And then again. as to this prince
whom Saranne was to marry.
1t was at hrst-for it was a favorite
theme for years-a perfectly ideal
fancy.
The prince was to appear in cloud,
to be met with in the market, to knock
at the door and announce himself with
radiant smile.
He was for a time nothing more than
delightful myth. but it was not long
before he found place in Saranne's
heart, and never was mention made of
him by Little Make Believe that Sa-
ranne could not, had she pleased, have
given him a name.
But she did not please. AS Little
Make Believe had one secret which she
Kept to herself, likewise had Saranne;
and neither Of the sisters was con-
scious that something was hidden from
her by the other.
Time had not improved Polly. The
vice Of drink had eaten into her soul
so deeply that there was no escape for
her.
The demon held her tight, and the
too-willing slave gave herself up to the
horrible thralldom.
In a man it is shocking to contem-
Mate; to behold it in a Woman-as it
Is to be seen daily in the London
streets-both saddens and shames us.
Foxey, now strong man, strong in
bis limbs and in his passions, pursued
the Uneven tenor of his way.
So pronounced was his vagabond ma
lure that, with certain class Of re-
former, he became somewhat of a IA
vorite-being in a measure boon to
them.
They preached to him and at him,
and underworld, by a distinctly wrong
process, to inculcate in him some con-
sciousness of right and wrong and of
human responsibility, they even Che
being willing as long as he was paid
for it, made show Of him; but they
did not discover way of utilizing for
the public's good and his own this per-
picking lump of human material.
Nevertheless, he had his uses, Il only
to serve as peg upon which moral
axioms could be hung.
Once every year, in the days of his
freedom. did he leave Glare Market Of
his own will, and that was in the hop
ping season, when he took his rough
holiday of fresh air and brighter
scenes.
An experience of a better kind than
the words Of cut-and-dried moralists
happily befeIl him and left its perma-
nent mark upon him.
In what kind of deed he had been
engaged, history, as recorded in the
newspaper columns, is silent; whatever
Its nature may have been, be sure it
was not heroic
All that is known, and that only to
the few concerned, is that late at night
Little Make-Believe found him lying
wounded and bleeding in courtyard.
which was very little frequented after
dark.
Hearing a groan, she stopped and
saw the body Of man, who, as she
knelt by him, recovered consciousness.
He seized her hand with grasp SO
powerful that she could not release
herself.
WHO are you, and what do you
want?"
II am Little Make Believe, and
heard some one groan. Are yer hurt
muchY
I'D frighten yer out of yer life, /
suppose" said Foxey, still holding her
hand, ''lf was to tell yer that I'm
hurt, that it's all up with me unless /
get somebody to stand by me-"
"0h, let me gol0 cried Little Make
Believe, full Of compassion, "and III
get help"
mo" he said. nobody must know,
nobody must see me till I'm better.
I'm Jest out Of quod. and don't want
to get in again without spell O. lib
erty. know where yer I've; there's
yard in the back and a shed in it.
Would yer mind my hiding there for
day or sog"
1T don't matter to me-" said Little
Make Believe; but make haste, or
yer'l bleed to DEATH
He was bleeding from great cash
in his neck.
Haven't yer got nothink to bind it
up with, Make Believer"
! She tore of i piece from her frock,
and herself bound up the wound
Now will yer help me to the shed?v
eyes.
'sAnd yer wont peach"
"What do yer take me for?a
"All right, Let me lean on yer
shoulder; | won't hurt yer more nor
can help"
Unobserved, they made their way to
I fho chod @4t....<t