Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-10-22


by the bedside There Dubois old housekeeper
Mrs NlcGar1lgle to take her turn at the task And
Duboff wrestled with death for him he himself had
wrested with the SurgeS for the stricken sailor.
THERE came a morning when the sick opened
sane inquiring eyes, and stared about the clean
homey little with its window wide open to the
sharp air. For minutes they obviously
puzzled The upholstered walls, decorated with prints
ture most of obviously homemade the spotlesS
linen, the bright coveret of patchwork, all scru
nized in turn And then the low ceiling of light, clean
spruce, traversed by sawed and planed scantlings
At last memory came back into the questioning eyes,
and the man realized that he must be in some remote
fishing village of the Labrador Coast Laboriousy step
by step, he CROPPED his way through the Storm the
wreck the desperate struggle up to the moment when
he had let himself drop with his burden from the slopng
last, and been grasped, in the suffocating vortex of
those green surges, by some strong swimmer who had
come miraculously to save him.
The door opened. A short broad built old woman
in bluegray homespun stepped softly but bnsky into
the ROOM and approached the bedside with cup and
spoon in her hand Her eyes met his, and at the
look in them she gave little exclamation of delight.
He spoke to her; but it in tongue she could not
Understand, and her wrnkled, ruddy old face couded
again. as she jumped to the conclusion that his mind
wandering.
"Arrah, now, She answered crooningy, to baby,
"be aiSy wild ye an dort to talk. Take this now
loke little man." c seating herself the chair by
the bedside she atte pted to give him something from
the cup.
But the sick pushed her hand aside, abruptly, as
the sick will What place is this? Where am II" he
Mrs. McGarrigle looked surprised. "Why, sure,
yere Pratts Harbor,' she replied. can where else
would we be, if not at the bottom O the say?"
The stranger unused a moment, still motioning away
the cup "And whose house is this?" he asked.
The docthors, av coorse!" came the answer.
what doctors?" went the stranger.
Mrs. McGarrige's face showed degree of astonish-
ment that not far from disapproval The idea of
any human being having to ask what doctors! "Why,
Docthor Peter s-whose else's could it be?-what
hauled We out O the say"
"Ah, yes" murmured the stranger, remembering that
grip of salvation. "But who is DR.. Peter?"
Mrs. NlcGarrige grieved at such ignorance
She jumped up set down the and spoon on the chair
and exclaimed warmly "Sure an he's Angel O light
that's what he is an yed ought to know it, Sorr An
there's the pot bilin over!"
She hustled from the room, closing the door behind
her. and the sick lay back with his eyes upon the
ceiling, bordering 1t troubled him that the mans
name should be Peter.
Some five minutes later the door opened again. This
time the visitor bright faced slim boy, with large
gray eyes and 1ongish, tumbled, yelow-brown hair
He beamed frankly the sick man. seated himself
on the edge of the bed with businesslke air. and an
nounced, you're better I'm gad!' Then he took
up the cup and spoon Mrs. McGarrige had abandoned
and decreed in quaint voice of authority, "You
be good and take this at Father said must be
very particular about it while he away"
The sick man smiled in his ragged beard and took
the dose obeGiently.
faction. "Now you must go to sleep. And think you
will be much better when father gets back you
want me- just ring this little bell"
But tell me, who is your father? demanded the sick
eagerly.
The boy turned at the door @Why, don't you know"
he asked innocent1y "He is DR.. Peter Duboff, who
saved you But you really must mo- talk, or youn be
going and having temperature again, and that's very
bad for you you know" He closed the door firmly; and
the sick turned his pillow, with his face
the wall
WHEN Duboff returned that evening, from sick
w visit in a neighboring cove he found that the
q into