The Idaho Republican. [volume] (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1904-1932, 1906-01-12

self.
He could hear the mans voice now
and he crouched lower, lest he nigh
be seen.
1.-THE poor Fellow actually asked mi
IL I thought q girl would wait fivt
years for an absent lover, and I hadn'
the heart to say what I thought.
said: 'Yes-twenty years.! Poo
chap, / suppose he fancies SomebOd,
is waiting for him."
The voice ceased; and the tramp
peering out from his hiding place, saw
that Margaret had withdrawn hel
hand from the mans arm, and wal
walking little apart from him.
$50 she hasn't told him anything
about me. Naturally" said the TRAMP
to himself.
He got back to the road, and thrust
ing his hand into his pocket, his fingers
closed on the piece of money. In an
other instant he had dashed it down
on the road, and was Fastening back
to the harbor.
That night he spent in an clubhouse
The next day, driven by hunger, he
went to a farm house, asking fol
work, but hoping to get some food.
The farmer, by way of joke, offered
him a job, and seemed surprised when
he jumped at the offer.
BY degrees the tramp began to IS.
sumo the appearance OF q decent
working man. He wore moleskins in.
stead Of his old rags; ON weekdays
he worked hard; but on Sundays he
went and lay on the sand and lis
tened to the surf breaking on the
beach, and dreamed.
One Sunday Afternoon, little mite.
three or four years old, got surround
ed BY the tide ~ she was building .
castle ON the sand. There was not
q shadow OF danger. but II was i'm
possible to reach her dryshod. The
tramp waded through the water,
picked up the child. and looked around
for her mother.
1t was Margaret who dropped her
book and came flying over the sands
Margaret
He put the little one down gently,
and turned away.
In . moment there was q pattsring
Of soft footsteps behind him.
Wont you let me thank you--?
Oh, Alan, It 10 you'll Don't you know
met"
yes Margaret. know you. but I
thought I had better keep away from
you. I've treated you badly, precious
badly. But I can't stand by and see
you another mans wife,"
"Aunt Margaret! Auntie! Me want
DOT" piped childish voice. Alan
Dean gave great start. His heart
beat wildly.
"What?" he cried. "You are not
the childs mother2 You are not Mr..
Bannister's wife2"
mo. No, Alan. Jim Bannister mar.
ried my sister. IL knew you would
came back, and / waited"
your uncle found out after you had
gone," Margaret said. az they made
their way slowly homeward q good
hour afterwards, that he was quite
wrong. He had made a mistake In
the accounts, and you were perfectly
honest. He bitterly repented his
words to you and would have writ
ten If he had known where to address
you. He told me SO himself. And to
show that he was convinced that he
had misjudged you he left you half
share of everything he had. The house
is yours, and the farm with 1t.
why, I thought Charley Hudson
was to have that. He was the favorite,
you know"
Eyes, but your uncle thought he
owed you some reparation for think
ing you had cheated him, and SO
driving you away from home. He died
almost four years ago. My sister had
been married some time before that"
"And you, my dearest? What have
you been doing?"
"Oh, I live in London now. I have
pupils. And, I have been--waiting."
He turned suddenly and caught her
to his breast. please God, my little
GIRL" he whispered, as he strained her
yet closer to him, "our waiting days
are nearly overt"