The Lexington intelligencer. [volume] (Lexington, Mo.) 1901-1949, 1912-02-02
Little Brown
Bird
By
PHILIP KEAN
Copyright 1911, by Associated Litenry Press.I

ment house John Carson heard the
Little Brown Bird singing. 1t was
not a glorious song like that of the
nightingale; it was just a pleasant
twitter, bringing something of cheer
into the gray gloom of the November
day.
If anybody needed cheer it was
John Carson. Out of work, out of
money-he was faced not only by
poverty, but by something worse
than poverty-dishonor
Hidden away in the top drawer of
John Carson's old desk was a jew
eled bag. And he knew the owner.
He had followed her after he had
picked up the bag that she had
dropped. But he had not returned
it-not yet. He had many things to
think of first.
He had been hungry that morn
ing when the little lady had dropped
her bag, and he had snatched it up,
had thrust it in his pocket and had
watched her go up the steps Of an
imposing apartment house and dis
appear.
When he reached home he opened
the bag. In it were five ~ten-dollar
bills-a fortune to John Carson.
He wondered if it would be steal
ing to borrow the money, and pay
it back when he was on his feet
again. He could find out the lady's
name-what would be the harm?
The Little Brown Bird ceased her
singing. The house seemed very
silent. The rain dripped outside,
and the wind howled.
John Carson rose and went to his
desk; he opened the drawer stealth
lily, then shut it quickly as a tap
came on his door.
He crossed the room, turned the
knob, and was faced by the Little
Brown Bird-for the brown bird
was not a feathered songster, but a
little slim hazel-eyed seamstress who
had often spoken to John as he
passed her open door, or nodded to
him as they met in the hallway.
An aged aunt lived with her, and
they were very poor. John knew
that the Brown Bird sewed from ear
ly morning until late at night, and
even the old aunt pulled out hastings
and did bits of fine embroidery.
The Brown Bird flushed a little
as she issued an invitation. my
aunt" she stammered, "my aunt
would be glad if you would come
over and have a cup of tea with us
it is such a dreary night"
Johns pride famed. Did they
think he would take charity, from
them-two women?
"0h," he could almost see her
heart futter in her throat, "please
don't say No We have few friends
we are much alone-we want you"
He stopped her with a gesture.
''Why are you asking me?" he said,
bluntly. at is not on your own ac-
count. Do you think that l need
food?"
Her cheeks blazed. ooh, no." she
protested, "but you need-friends."
He stared at her. "How did you
know"
81 saw you when you passed our
room when you came in tonight
and your face-oh, tn res something
the matter-isn't there"
For a moment he stood looking
down at her. Eyes" he said, at last,
"there is something dreadfully the
matter. And shall be glad to
come over and have tea with you"
He followed her out into the hall,
shutting the door behind him and
locking it, shutting in the horror in
the desk drawer that had tempted
him.
The poor little room opposite was
made cozy by the glow of a few Goals
in the CRATE. There was a big plate
Of toast, and a round brown pot Of
tea. A sleek kitten purred on the
hearth. John Carson looked around
him as one who wakes from a dread
full dream. "Your room is a home"
he said, ''mine is a tent for the
night"
The aunt poured tea, while the
Little Brown Bird in a low rocking
chair talked in her CHEEKY voice.
The hot tea and the good toast
hrOupht life IN .John Careon's load