The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1905-06-28

should stop with them. I wouldn't
leave them, I wouldn't leave them for
tie world"
"You mean that they'd want a better
place than this to live in"
Eyes, I think they'd be sure to-"
"Well, then, what I would have to DO
would be to give up my shop, and ask
them to find room for me; then /
shouldn't lose yer"
IF that could be arranged, sir. I'll
consent, sir, most willingly. After all
you've done for me, it 'ud be migrate
full to refuse; and it 'ud be a pleasure
to wait on yer. Is that the wind, or is
it somebody knocking at the street
door,"
"It's the wind; there's a big storm
coming"
He walked to the window, and drew
the blind aside. The storm was not
coming; it had come. 1t was showing
%furiously.
I'm sure, Mr.. Dexter" said Little
Make-Belieye, listening intently, "that
somebody's knocking at the street
door,"
He listened, and the wind happen
ing to lull at that moment, they both
heard a violent rapping at the door be-
low.
"IlI 90 and see who It Is. It's a
strange time for a visitor"
He took a candle and went to the
door, followed by Little Make-B elieve.
He did not draw the bolts. but called
out: "
who's thereT
g" want Mr.. Dexter" answered q
voice without.
"Tm Mr.. Dexter; what do you want
Of meT
IT must speak to you at once. Det
me In"
mot likely, at this time Of night.
What's yer business?"
Business of life and death. Your
wife's dying, and you must come to
her at once"
"My wife! Dyingw gasped Thomas
Dexter, and he drew the bolts.
As he opened the door the wind
dashed in fercely and almost blew him
off his feet
The man entered quickly, and shut
| the door behind him.
His story was soon told, Polly
Cleaver lay dying two miles away, and
had a secret to tell her husband which
it was more than his soul was worth
not to hear.
"The doctor says she hasn't two.
hours to live" said the man.
II will come with yer" said Thomas
Dexter; his face was white and his
limbs were trembling. "Make-Believe,
will yer stop up for me till I come
| back?"
Eyes, MI. Dexter" she replied. go
-go, this very minute"
She assisted him with his o%vercoat,
and handed him his hat.
"Don't let them know upstairs" he
| said, and then he went into the storm
| with the messenger.
Little Make-Believe did not bolt the
| door. He took the key, and locked it
| outside.
Listening a few moments for the
/ sound Of their footsteps, which it was
/ impossible for her to hear amidst the
| bowling Of the wind, even If the pave
ments had been hard and firm, instead
Of being covered an inch thick with
snow, she returned to the room above,
and thought Owe what had passed.
It was all so confusing that she could
scarcely understand it; only n feel
ing was clear to her-pity for the dy-
| ing woman and for the nan who was
! on his way to her deathbed.
To die upon Christmas night, after
| being parted all these years! It was
| dreadful-dreadful!
She crept softly to her sisters room;
| Saranne was sound asleep.
She listened outside the bedroom of
| Mr.. Deepdale and Walter; their regu-
| lar breathing came to her ears; they
| had not been disturbed.
Then she returned again to the sit
ting room. A secret which it was
L ."OAl Ilo11 LID oOul "uo
not to hear? What could it be?
| How white his face was as he went
| out! What an ending to their happy
! night!
She hoped it was nothing bad-noth-
ing that would hurt him. What was
that? Only the clock striking. One
| o'clock.
HELL be a long time gone" she
thought; II III try and read q bit"
But she could not fix her attention
on the book, though it was full Of
pictures.
How the storm was raging without!
She hoped Thomas Dexter would get
there safely, and in time to hear what
his dying wife had to say to him.
She rose and walked softly about the
room; drew the curtain from the win
dow and looked out.
The falling Of the snow was like q
silent voice, but there was nothing
peaceful in it.
The white flakes were whirled hither
and thither by the cruel wind.
A black figure was passing on the
opposite side of the road; a black fig
ure. huddled up, with its arms tightly
folded.
1t was a woman, and there seemed
to be something dcspairing in her mo-
tons.
Poor thing! poor thing" thought,
or rather spoke, Little Make-Believe.