The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1906-08-18

/ come to Start9 mat just now le4l
about that kid.
1.-The street cars didn't seem to be
/ going fast enough, and / walked all
] the way like a mailman, and when at
/ last I found the house, Tom. / near
~ lost my nerve. / hesitated mo.
| ment before started toward the door,
1 uncertain what to do or say, for you
| know, / wasn't used to talking to ba-
/ bies.
Tom, you remember when we were
| kids. You remember how we used
| to sneak up and ring somebody's
/ door bell, and then run away. Well,
i that's just how felt as pushed the
electric button; and I actually be-
lieve / was sliding away when the
door suddenly opened and about the
prettiest little woman | ever saw babe
me good evening"
Why, er-er-is-' / began, and
Tom, on the square, just couldn't get
any farther. / looked at the woman,
and she stood patiently waiting; just
the faintest trace Of smile at my en-
barrassment. Finally, in sheer desper-
ation,I blurted out:
is Mary here?'
ooh, this is Mr. Simmons. Come
right in; I'll go and get her. was the
answer I received. And she knew me,
old fellow, knew me and called me by
name. Well, was in for it. then, and
my nerve came back. I followed in
after her and when she left me stand
~, T n yuh a
would come next.
sYeu know, old pal, somehow | had
a sneaking feeling all along that some
Of the boys had put up little JOB on
me; but when that little woman, with
her sweet smile, said she would go and
get Mary knew 1t was me for the KID
sure. And you ought to have seen me
shiver moment after she left me,
when the laughter OF a crowd OF chill
dren at play came dinly to my ears.
Tom, you are a father and / suppose
you know how it sounds; / suppose
that for you it has different meaning,
something Infinitely sweet and all
that; but for me-your staid. old bach
elor friend-as [ stood there in that lit
tie room, well, it just seemed to me
that in about two minutes I'd be the
head of a ready-made family or I'd
jump through the window and let the
insane commissioners do their worst.
Shortly l heard steps in the hall
way and the 1isping question of a
child; and Tom-Tom, you know how
it used to make you feel when your
father came after you with switch
and you stood waiting, wanting to run
and afraid to-wel1, old man, that's
just the way felt. Then the woman
came in and she brought with her the
sweetest child have ever seen-a pref
ty little girl, seven years old. 1t was
all up with me. I had never thought
the child really lived; that it was all
bluff; but when confronted by her
living presence wilted. And as the
woman came toward me she said:
Il Mr. Simmons, we conduct the
Home for Little Wanderers or
phanage-an independent institution
that looks to the individual charity OF
the people for its support. We thought
that the bachelors in the city, being, Of
course, without children themselves,
ought to support at least one child
apiece; so we secured the names of all
the bachelors and assigned each one a
child. Mary was assigned to you. Now
you see how l knew your name when
you asked for her.
Now, Mr.. Simmons, you'll see that
Mary receives better treatment, won't
4 you-you'll be sort of foster father to
her? And you're not one bit mad, are
your
''Tom, what would you have done if
you were in my place then? That's it,
old sport; that's it exactly, and that is
5 just the very thing did. I was beaten
at new game, and | smiled in spite of
myself It was all so simple, so very
simple, that forgot all the worry of
three days as laid couple of tens in
the matron's hand and told her to look
for check each month for Mary.
And Tom, would you believe it, that
kid just rushed up to me, threw her
me- You know what it is to have little
girls kiss you-you're a father.
didn't then, and | guess I must have
showed it, for the least little laugh es-
capped the matron. There was some
thing about it that had never known
before-just a tinge Of heaven, 7 sup
pose. felt SO queer; there was a lump
in my throat-ah, WELL Tom, there's no
use telling you-you know.
Here, light another cigar
Copyright, 1906. by Daily Story Pub Coz
Just Between Friends.