Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1907-11-26
(CHAPTER XXI, continued i,

MI L, COuIluu0U.)
Good Gawd, to see him walk in
amongst us like that. Why, Mr.. Ken.
nedy, whatever's up, whatever brings
you here night like this?"
3 Alban had always admired the Lady
Sarah, he admired her more than
yer tonight.
wind and rain, Sarah," he said
shortly, they brought me here, to
'ay nothing of Master Betty cutting
CROSS the street as though the cops
pre- at his heels. How are you all?
lows his reverence? Speak up, my
,rd, how are the affairs Of your ex-
.ensive diocese?" s. t...y t,.s
u My affairs said the Archbishop,
D slowly, "are what might be called in
nubibus- cloudy, my dear boy, dis
inctly cloudy. am, to adopt a home
y smile, at present under neighbours
umbrella, which is not as sound as it
night be. Behold me, none the less,
a that state of content to which the
oct Horace has happily referred
ee vixit male qui natus moriensque
sfellit. At this moment you discover
e upon pleasant bridge which
pans an unknown abyss. eat,
ink and am merry What more shall
desire?"
And Betty here, does Betty keep
Gut of mischief"
n, Sarah answered this.
I got him job at Covent Garden,
and he's there regular at four o'clock
every morning sure as the suns in
heaven. Don't you go thinking nothing
about Betty, Mr.. Kennedy, and so
tell you straight
And what have you done with the
Panorama, Sarah?"
: She laughed loudly.
Panorama's among the black men,
them's his oysters as we're eatin'
now. Try one, Mr.. Kennedy. You
:@s22pk as If a drop of summat would do
sr TqQd, SO help me you do. Take
Mrs. stout and rest yourself
1t Is a surprise to see you,
H. JT.'
terffy pleasant surprise, indeed
thahe Archbishop, emphatically.
tris has been no event in my life
y amy months which has given so
sSsatisfaction We have not so
friends that we can spare even
bf them to those higher spheres,
h, | must say, he has adorned
such conspicuous lustre."
$h, spare me. reverence, don't
nonsense tonight l am tired as
see, tired and hungry. And I'm
ing to beg food and drink from old
a Sends who have loved me. Now,
arah, what's it to be?'
He drew the sofa nearer to the bare
fable and began to eat with them.
sSarah's motherly protestatfons in
tduced him to take Off his coat and
eshang 1t up in the watchman's office to
sdry. The same tender care served
\ out to him the most delicate morsels,
from generous If uncouth table, and
insisted upon their acceptance. II
his old friends were hot with curiosity
to know whence he came and what he
had been doing, they, as the poor
alone can do successfully, asked no
questions nor even limited at their de-
sire. Not until the supper was over
and Sthe Archbishop had produced q
little packet of cigars, did any general
conversation interrupt that serious
1nbusfness of eating and drinking. 50
rarely INDUCED in, SO sacred when
opportunity offered.
This amiable truce to curiosity, die
tated. by nature, was first broken by
the Archbishop, who did not possess
my Lady Sarah's robust powers Of
selfcommand. Passing Alban cigar,
he asked him question which hal
been upon his lips from the begin
ming.
"You are just returned from Poland,
Kennedy"
Il have been in England two months
reverence"
But not at Hampstead, my dear
boy, not at Hampstead. surely?"
As YOU say, not at Hampstead, ut