The Cook County herald. [volume] (Grand Marais, Minn.) 1893-1909, 1907-08-31


we'll as the sorrow it gives him to dis
appoint her; and tears come and blot
out the loving words, as we'll as the
proud descriptions of the home which
is all ready for her now out in one
of the pleasant northern suburbs.
They blot out even that simple re-
quest at the end-"Think of me more
than ever tomorrow, mother, and
pray for me just at nightfall; at that
very hour when we have been used to
sit together in the porch on other
happy birthday nights"
There is the present of money
which most letters bring her now, and
it is while she holds this in her hand
that she forms sudden resolution;
and it comes to her at that moment
as so natural one that she wonders
where it has been hidden before.
David is working very hard, and is to
be lonely on his birthday. How can
she better use his gift to her than by
giving him pleasure he cannot ex-.
pect, and so prevent his being solitary
OIL that day which they have never yet
spent apart? AS he cannot come
home to her, she will go to him. All,
how his face will brighten when he
sees his mother come in! How he
will start up with outstretched arms
to clasp her! That moment will re-
pay her for any trouble she may have
in reaching him
1t is long journey, but the antici-
patton Of David's delight at seeing her
shortens and beauties the way.
And this is London-this line of
deafening sound of wheels! Poor
Davy! How he must long for the quiet
shady lanes, and the fresh breeze
coming inland from the sea!
She takes cab from the depot and
Mary Sullivan stands with beating
heart at the door of tall, narrow
| house in harrington street, and rings
| the bell family. She waits what she
| thinks a long, long time before
young man appears in answer to her
modest summons and her INQUIRY for
David Sullivan
Monsieur Su1li-Sullivan? the
young man questions. laughing little
as he glances into the face of the
country-bred yet delicate-looking wo-
man who stands holding her basket so
closely to her side. Yes, he knows.
He will take her to him.
What gay, grand place this is,
with lights like suns and stars upon
the ceiling, so far up, so very, very far
up! Why, the church at home is not
nearly SO high as this room. But why
is it lighted yet? The June sunshine
is laying brightly now upon the sea at
home, and it must be light as day in
the cottage rooms. What thousands
of faces are gathered here, all looking
one way, too, all looking at the door
which she had been hidden to watch.
Are they watching for David too?
| Suddenly band begins to play;
and-puzzled more and more-Mary
turns her eyes from the spot she is
watching SO intently. David has never
told her about this music, and these
lights, and this great lofty room, and
the watching crowd. What does it
mean? and why is Davy coming here?
prompt, tumultuous sound of
clapping in the crowd; and Mary turns
her puzzled eyes back again to the
doorway she had been hidden to
watch. No one is there save the few
idle figures which have stood there
| all the time. But now, in the cleared
| space in the center of the building, a
man (who must have passed through
while she was gazing at the band, and
whose face is turned from herr is
climbing single rope suspended from
the wall.
WOnderingly, Mary watches tho
light and active figure tightly clad in
white and crimson-springing upward
with the speed and agility of a squir-
rel. Why should he do this daring,
foolish thing? Is a mans life so val
ueless that he should risk it thus to
provoke a moments passing wonder?
Is death so trivial thing that he
should brave it recklessly thus to win
a moments applause? All, to think of
this mans life, and then of Davy's!
Another minute and the man she
watches springs to double rope
which hangs from the lofty ceiling;
and, sitting there at ease, looks down
upon the crowd. Then Mary's eyes
look full into his face.
It is special performance at the
circus on this June night, being the
farewell of the famous gymnast, Mon
sieur Sulli, who, after his brief and
brilliant> career, is retiring from the
profession in which he shines without
rival; intending to settle down-so
it is rumored, ironically and discon-
tentedly--to Office work with an &C.
countant, and to live in a small house
out in a north suburb with an old mo-
Their from the country. So ridiculous,
in the very zenith of his fame!
On this farewell night he is to per-
form (for the last time) his greatest
! fnat-a feat which M ono h,1t hiy,,co1f