The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1911-12-02

anu ne saw an old and poorly dressed
woman approaching. His trained eye
promptly discovered her role in the
inscrutable drama of life.
She's victim of poverty, depres-
sion and asthma. Also, she has been
drinking more than is good for her."
The woman looked cautiously at Del
mege, stopped and moistened her lips
with her tongue. She drew tattered
gray shawl more closely about her
narrow, STOPPING shoulders, and said:
Il hope I'm not disturbing you, sir,
but wonder if you could let me have
the price of a cup of coffee?"
Her tones were dry and very tired.
1t was evident that her mendicant
formula was very familiar to her own
ears.
Delmege, rising to his feet, noted
the hard CLINT that came into the
Woman's eyes as his hand slipped into
his trouser pocket.
Thank you, SIR" she murmured, her
thin, soiled fingers closing on the coin
he proffered her. God will reward
you for helping poor woman in
Distress"
On the point of moving away, she
cast another glance at his face. Then
she stood stock still, the look freezing
into surprised, incredulous stare.
Dear mel" she exclaimed, partly to
herself. "You can't be-are you little
Tommy Delmege."
Il used to be, long ago." he smiled,
when I had no literary aspirations.
Now they insist on calling me T. Penn
berton. But, my dear madam, you
certainly have the advantage of me-"
Eyes, it must be Tommy Delmege,"
the woman continued. ''I'd know
those eyes of yours anywhere. l re-
member we used to argue about
whether they were brown or gray"
THAT" laughed Delmege, lis still
a matter of debate"
"And you used to serve Mass at
st. Margaret's; and I remember the
time you got a set of books in the
parochial school for the best English
composition; and then T.
Delmege took quick step forward.
Good heavens!" he whispered.
you are the priests Annie!"
The childhood phrase came to his
lips automatically. Here, after many
years, was the plump and rosy second
girl' in the clergy residence at St.
Margaret's. Here was the Annie who
used to open the door and sweep the
front steps and make a gay morning
trip down Twenty-fourth street to the
bakers and the fruit stand. Here
was the Annie who had tied up his
cut finger that awful day he had
played at fighting a duel with Joe
Kelly, the Annie who had on many
occasions conveyed cakes and apples
to the altar boys. Here was Mrs.
LaidlaW's sister!
| The two women-how we'll he re-
Imembered it all!-had been employed
in the priests house. One day Annie
had disappeared and no word was
spoken of her after. Vainly had he
asked his mother, Father Don, Bill,
the sexton, her own sister Kate. It
was as though the earth had swal-
lowed her up, for the place that knew
her once knew her now no more.
Then Kate had married Colonel
Laidlaw and blossomed into a we'll
groomed and wealthy society lady.
The process was slow and took place
while Delmege was in college. Once,
while he was reporter on The Echo,
Delmege had ventured to ask Mrs
Laidlaw what had become of Annie,
and was told that nobody knew. And
now, today, he knew.
'T suppose" said the woman, hard
bitter smile distorting her features,
you hardly expected to see me
today?"
Annie, sit down here, please; you
look tired. I hardly expected to see
you any day. I needy hardly tell you
that l am surprised. And there is
coincidence in this matter, too. The
last person I was speaking to was
Kate"
The woman pursed up her lips.
Don't talk about Kate" she said
shortly "She's nothing to me. Oh,
yes" she added, putting out her hand
as Delmege was about to speak. II
know all about her. I see the papers
sometimes, and whenever I do I'm
sure to find her name on the society
page-and the church page, too. I
suppose people call Kate pillar of
society. / wonder what they'd call
me-"
"You mustn't look at things like
that, Annie. I'm sure you have been
very unfortunate and eventually have
lost heart. You know I have never
heard word about you or got hint
of your whereabouts since that time,
nearly twenty years ago, when you
left st. Margaret's.'
"You don't know why I left? Well,
married man nobody thought I
should have married. He's been dead