Los Angeles herald., 1909-12-19

dLbOlhOOtlg llG SQuhS IOhbhhoSNb
then you shall have tea with her, even
if L can't. Eth, little ones?
They were a trifle disappointed, but,
after all, lunch alone with Cousin DICK
at a big London restaurant they found
to be great fun; and when the Dill
had been paid came the prospect of
meeting their mother, of giving her the
surprise of her life. Into the hanson
they scrambled, and away they went
through the maze of traffic.
Are we going the right way?" de-
manded the boy, to whom London
streets were a revelation.
Eyes, Cecil" replied Graine absently.
ITO Sloane street?" inquired Nancy.
A smile broke on the thin, pale fea-
lures of her cousin. as he answered:
"Well not to Sloane street. Mother
is at a much bigger house this after
noon, and perhaps we'll have to wait
a little while to see her, but she'll be
there, never fear. Why, here we are;
let me get out and help you two
down."
1t was a very splendid house indeed
at which the cab had stopped. There
were servants in gorgeous livery,
heavy carpets on the floor, wide steps
and any number of lights. And, be-
sides. the place in which they found
themselves was so big and full of
such lots of people, and there was
band playing close beside them.
But alas! where was their mother
she whom they had come all the way
from Hillborough to see?
Brother and sister glanced at the
man between them; tears were rising
to their eyes; there was a lump in
the throat of each. Had Cousin Dick
played them false?
CRANE read the look of doubt and
appeal in the upturned faces. For a
moment 1t seemed that a mist was
rising before his eyes, too, as he whis-
pered softly:
you will see her In a minute chill
dren. Look!"
As ne spoke the band, which was
somewhere just in front of them, be-
gan play!Ig very softly. Then sud
denly 1t grew quite dark, and as in
stinctively the little ones hands sought
his that gorgeous curtain, picture and
all, quivered, curled and rose silently
and swiftly upward, and there stood
the mother before her children, with
her brown eyes as bright as ever
and the sweet smile on those parted
lips that so often had given them a
goodnight kiss.
The boy sprang up. Cousin Dick
clutched at his arm; the child was too
quick for him, but alack! there was
barrier beyond which the band was
playing.
The funny bald-headed man who was
waving the short stick glanced behind
him; he fancied he had heard a voice
cry "Motherl"
And perhaps, too, that winsome lady
in the Louis Quinze costume caught the
exclamation, for she looked downward
for a moment across the footlights, for
a moment hesitated, then, smiling,
sang as she had never sung before.
The children could never remember
1.-THE of all they saw that afternoon. To
them II seemed like some long dream,
very terrible dream In parts, but one
that ended happily after all. But there
was their mother before them all the
while, talking, laughing or singing.
And at times she cried, too-and the
tears rose to the little ones eyes as
well-but when at the last the man she
had saved from all kinds of peril held
her In his arms, their joy knew no
bounds.
And then the people clapped their
hands again, and Ethel Harding-few
In the theater knew her as Constance
Hardy-smiled and courtesied, with
special curtsy for the very middle OF
the front row of the stalls, and then
the great curtain sank down once more.
"They all love mother" said Nancy,
as Graine led the children from the
main entrance and down side street
to quite dingy little door.
The man nodded abstractedly.
"But not so much as we do, do they,
Cousin Dick?" chimed In the boy.
mo, 1 think not" answered Cousin
Dick, as he handed card to the door
keepr
1t was quite a small room where they