Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-01-07

fer1ng, watched. AS OlSIGT ADlSd1l SllTTeu
a bit under their gentle treatment and
loosened her hold on Billy, the big man died
hundred deaths. He snatched his baby
and held him close. Il don't understand
he said thickly. BILLY couldn't go! He and
| were to fight together!'
Now, whether Sister Christiana, who was
one of the best of good women, knew what
she said and said it deliberately, is not
known; but she did say slowly and dis
tinctly, BILLY and his father'met the storm
together; Billys father failed him. and
Billy's dear little life is perhaps given to save
yours"
The big fellow staggered. 1t all came to
him in a fash,-the storm, the desire for
drink the falling down in the snow with the
baby.
Sister Abigail's eyes were open now; the
brandy between her lips had given her life.
| "Comfort him. she whispered to Sister
Christiana; but the old woman shook her
| head.
"I-kil1ed- Bily!" said his father very
slowly. "I-killed-Billy"
He laid Billy in the crib and stumbled
blindly and crafty from the ROOM They
heard him go to the front door, but no one
stopped him. They were all crying except
the little Sister Abigail. She drew herself
up found she was steady on her feet, and
| then, slipping from the room, she hastily
clutched coat from the hallway, opened the
door, and followed Billy's father
What those two went through that night
| God only knows. Billy's father did not care:
he said he was going to perdition. She said
she would go with him. But she did not 60
| far; for she tainted again. He carried her
into drugstore, and friendly hands minis
| tered to her. Now was the chance for Bi1ly's
| father to make his escape,-which he did;
| for the thirst of his disease was strong upon
him.
THE man who leaned so silently over the
: rail without even passing glance at his
| excited fellow passengers would at another
| time have attracted attention. Now, as the
| steamer pulled into her pier, no one had time
| to think of him. His hair was snow white,
his shoulders were bent, and his face scanned
with lines; but his figure was magnificent in
| its strength.
"He needs few drinks to oil up his tongue
and timber his legs" confded one man pas
senger to another; but he did not drink at
all. All that his fellows knew of him per-
sonally was that he had not been in the civil
lied world for ten years, but was returning
now with a fortune.
Leaving the steamer, the African traveller
made his way direct to quiet house where
ten years before modest name plate had
announced Sunshine Day Nursery
Il want to see Sister Abigail" he said to
the woman who opened the door.
"This is Mrs. Fosters house," said the
woman.
allow long have you had this house?'
asked the traveller.
"Nine years come Thanksgiving, said the
woman.
He could get no satisfaction there nor
from the neighbors. Some of them remem-
bered the nursery; but no one knew what
had become of it. One woman volunteered
| the information that Sister Christiana died,
she thought and the nursery was broken up.
No one knew of Sister Abigail, and the
bronzed man knew her by no other name.
He had set himself the Herculean task
of finding a little, neglected ten-year-old
grave.
Day after day the bronzed man haunted
the cemeteries, one after another, in a fruit
less search. Day after day he returned to
| his hotel, purpose still burning hot with him.
It was hard search; for how would the lit
tie grave be marked, if marked at all? A
second round of the cemeteries was begun,
| to leave no stone unturned
The big STOPPING bronzed figure crowned
with white, pursuing its lonely search, was