Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-08-06

and splendor; but, lust the same, there fire
in his eye. His knOty fingers took me in no I'm
certain grip and his free arm swept quickly across our
front
"You see it, Davy, you the whole hillside from top
to bottom? Flower gardens, fountains, sunmerhouses,
fancy walks, lockwood hedges, and ingrowin' lawns
where good crops and good pasture used to be. Not
enough grass it all, Davy, to churn you out
pound of butter; still he's got newfangled dairy out
back. And look you WE'LL Lad, what we're nigh rubin
our backs against The old man and turned
"a castle it is and on this ground-thc ground was
born on'
IAN imposing castle too, Mr.. Fitch" gave as my
opinion; and for that sorry on the instant. My
good friend surveyed me i'll silence for a moment
two and in infinite When at last he spoke it
with little remor which carried full measure OF re-
buke.
aYou don't mean it, Davy! You don't dare stand
before and say you'd give this barn of castle for
the wee house that stood long and stood kindly, stood
bright day and dark day and would be sandin yet in
its four walls, sound and snug, only for the plague OF
Yankee money!
l could do no more than honestly, and with
a sense of peniteace me, "My heart in the wee
house. Mr.. Fitch
"Yo,l used to call the wee house home"
Home! God bless you, Davy you've got it right,
as was wishin' for YOU. Home of flesh and blood!
Sit you down, you down, Sonny, and I'll be after
tellin you"
We seated ourselves on the topmost marble step,
with backs toward the carved panels of the gloomy
and ponderous door. dts a shame Davy, cryin'
shame! said my companion, and drew me halt around
until faced him. But I'm worried how to begin
i-wat breathn SPELL Boy. III tell you, I'll tell you.
[ waited in good grace. L should wait gleefuly to
this minute for such For, believe me, have
gone and down the best part of the woodland ex
pect to go farthcrwihout the privilege OF meeting
another such as Andrew Fitch-Andy Fitch | mean,
that without dlSreSpCCt. lie like Andy better, and
know we meant him.
1t a fair to middlng brcathin' spell. 1t lasted
while the old slowly took off his faded and dusty
cracked and Cented, felt hat drew forth generous
expansc of red calico handkerchief, and rubbed
his brow 1t lasted even longer than that and still not
a word said l. 1t lasted in sober truth, while Andy
Fitch ground wads of black tobacco in his palm,
with hollow checks. And while Andy Fitch pulled and
pulled he had eyes only for the Transformation of his
beloved hillside, while had eyes only for Andy Fitch
A venerable man, good for eyes to Eighty-four
years had done their very best for Andy Fitch. OF
course there price he had to pay; but it wasn't
much, considering all things and they usually
in mortal affairs. Twice eighty years, if Andy Fitch
a among There no fear and no guile in
Andy Ftch's gaze but there great tirmness and
great gentlenesS there look of real majesty, which
toll and weather could hide, not lent alone by
snow white hair and white beard; for there
expression that eloquent in that full and rounded
brow that regular and determined nose that resOlute
and yet sensitive mouth-eloquence, moreover, in the
that meek and gracious head And Andy Fitchs
shoulders mil ht droop than little, still it
plain to that in another time and another place they
would have bestowed dignity a toga.
Legs crossed, elbow knee, pipe in upturned finger
and thumb, the old man pulled away complacenty,
til thought he had forgotten But he hadn't.
"And to think it was sons doin'!" he
marked suddenly, and looked straight at me. "If
was back where it started, wouldn't let him do it.
No. SOr / Wouldn't"