The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1905-08-29

oHOuiu Slop Will lueAH. WOuluu
leave them, wouldn't leave them for
tive world
you mean that they'd want a better
place than thisStosliVe In"
Eyes, 1 think they'd be sure to-"
''Well, then, what I would have to &c
would be to give up my shop, ana 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 an
you've done for me, it 'ud be migrate
fu1 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?''
tits 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 Believe, 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 violent rapping at the door be-
low.
iii go and see who 1t is. It's q
strange time for a visitor"
He took a candle and went to the
door. followed by Little Make Believe.
He did not draw tho bolts. but called
out:
who's there?"
II want Mr.. Dexter" answered a
voice without.
"I'm Mr.. Dexter; what do you want
Of me?''
II must speak to you at once. Het
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 wifel Dyingg' gasped Thomas
Dexter and he drew the bolts.
AS he opened the door the wind
dashed in fiercely 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 Secret to tell her husband which
it was more than his soul was worth
not to hear.
1.-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 / come
back?"
Eyes, Mr. Dexter" she replied. "Go
go, this very minutew
She assisted him with his Overcoat,
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-Belieye did not bolt the
door. He took the key, and locked it
outside.
Listening 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 over what had passed.
1t was all so confusing that she could
scarcely understand it; only one feel
ing was clear to her-pity for the dy-
ing woman and for the man who was
on his way to her deathbed.
To die upon Christmas night, after
being parted all these yearsl 1t was
Standardization
She crepta softly ito her sisters room;
Saranne was tsound asleep.
She listened outside the bedroom of
Mr.. Deepdale and Walter; their regu-
lar breathing came TO her ears; they
had not been disturbed. .ass>s
Then she returned again to the sit
ting room. A secret which 1t was
worth more than. his soul was worth
not to hear? What could it be?
How white his face was as he went
outl 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.
'He'll be long time gone" she
thought; Il II try and read 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 MIN.
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
silent voice. but there was nothing
peaceful in il.
The white fakes were whirleG hitler
and thither by the cruel wind.
A black figure was passing on the
opposite side Of the road; black fig-
ure, huddIed up, with its arms tightly
folded.
1t was woman, and there seemed
to be something despairing in her mo-
tons.
"Poor thingl poor things' thought,
or rather spoke, Little Make Believe.
her sympathy for human suffering was
SO keen perhaps she amt got