The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-02-12


 ! chana in broom himself. 'I'Vb retired from active work" he lnfor1 led Graydon one day when that younf man stared in astonishment at him. Whats the use, my boy, in Elias broom dressing like dog of 0 world hgman when he is gentleman of lei lure and afiuence? It surprises you tI>see me in an evening suit, eh? Well. by love, my boy, I've got din ner j cket, a Prince Albert and silk hat. There are four new suits of clothts hanging up in that closet" he said, kidding, with sarcastic laugh: ''That ought to make perfect gentle man nf me. oughtn't it? What are you li mghing at?"
 "I Ghn't help it, Elias. Who would have dreamed that you'd go in for good aothesp'
 "I 1sed to dream about it long ago. sw< fe if I ever got back to New York I'd dress as New Workers dress even If I was a hundred years old. I've lot a servant too. What dye think of that? He can't understand vol N I say, nor can I understand him. That's why he stays on with me. Be doesn't know when Pm dis charg hg him, and don't know when he's threatening to leave. What do you ta ink of my rooms?" It fhs Graydon's first visit to the place, weeks after their return to New York. He had not felt friendly to Droon since the day at the prison, but nGw " he was forgetting his resent ment in the determination to wrest from him the names of lanes father and mother. He was confident that the olil man knew.
 Better than Wells street, eh? We'll, you see, was in trade then. Different now. I'm getting to be quite flop. Do you notice that say By Jove' oc- casionally?" He gave his raucous laugh of derision. "Dined at Sherry's the other night, old chap" he went on with raw mimicry. '"They thought I was Christian and let me in. used to look like the devil. you know.''
 ''By the Lord Harry, Elias" cried Graydon, '.you look like the devil now."
 eve got these carpet slippers on be- cause my shoes hurt my feet" ex- plained broom sourly. My collar rubbed my neck, so took it of. Other wise Pm just as was when got in at sherry's. Funny what a difference a little thing like a collar makes, isn't lt?"
 'I should say so. I never gave it a thought until now. But, Elias, want to ask a great favor of you. You can''-
 "My boy, if your father wouldn't tell you who her parents are, don't expect me to do so. He knows; only sus- pect."
 You must be mind reader" gasped Graydon.
 Tt isn't hard to read your mind these days. What do you hear from herr" Graydon went back to the subject after few moments. 'T am morally certain that know who her father and mother were, but it won't do any good to tell her. How's your father?"
 After this night Graydon saw the old man often. They dined together occasionally in the small cafes on the west Yide. broom could not, for some reason known only to himself, be in- duced to go to Sherry's again.
 "When Jane comes back I'll give you both a quiet little supper there after the play maybe. It'll be my treat, my boy"
 The old man worked patiently and fruitlessly over his inventions" They came to naught, but they frightened his otherwise barren existence. There was not day or night in which his mind was wholly free from thoughts of James Bansemer.
 He counted the weeks and days un. narrowed with these furtive glances into the future. He felt in his heart that James Bansemer would come to him at once and that the reckoning for his single hour of triumph would be a heavy one to pay. Sometimes he would sit for hours with his eyes staring at the Napoleon above the bookcase, something like dread in their depths. Then again he would laugh with glee. pound the table with his bony hand, much to the consternation of Chang, and exclaim as if addressing a multi. tude:
 'I hope I'll be dead when he gets out of there. hope I won't live to see him free again. That would spoil everything. Let me see, I'm seventy one now. l surely can't live much longer. I want to die seeing him as l saw him that day The last thing I think Of on earth must be James Ban. semers face behind the bars. Ha. ha, ha! It was worth all the years-that one hour. It was even worth while being his slave. I'm not afraid of him. No! That's ridiculous. Of course I'm not afraid of him. l only want to know he's lying in a cell when l die out here in the great, tree world. By my soul. he'll know that handsome face isn't always the best. He laugh ed at my face. curse him. His face won her-his good looks! Well. well. well, l only hope she's where she can see his face nowv'
 He would work himself into a frenzy of torment and glee combined. usually collapsing at the end of his harangue. It disgusted him to think that his health was so good that he might be expected to live beyond the limit of To Do