The Washington herald., 1913-08-24
an can hobble down. How's the

igan can hobble down. How's the
Leg"
got rheumatism in the other one. Mr..
Curran'-she sat forward, Frightening,
and unfolding her hand, dropped bit
of crushed paper on the table-"there's
the prizel A check-SIoo."
One hundred dollarsl And she had
never possessed two in her whole life.
The editor sat staring at it. Poor lit
tx. prize
ITS shame" muttered Mr.. Cur
ran; they ought to give you million.
But its Just newspaper graft to work
up circulation. Just advertising, Aure-
lie. They think the glory is enough
for you"
I don't want any glory. I want
cork leg for Uncle, Michigan. Like the
one in the catalogue Hen McFetridse
gave him. Do cork legs cost hun
dred dollars?"
Il think so. One of those legs that
bend and twist and seem as good as a
meat one-yes, sir, I'm afraid they do,
Aurelie."
You put this check away, Mr.. Cur
| ran. And I'm a-goin' on the stage and
save up my money and buy Uncle
Mich the best leg there is anywhere"
The editor folded up the beauty
prize. He put it in his pocketbools,
with a sigh. 1--we not seen so much
money in-I don't know whenl It's
just grand of you. Aurelie, to think of
Uncle Mich. And so you're really 60
ing on the stage"
Il guess so. I'm sick of everything.
The letters / get, and all this publicity
IFS just upset me, Mr.. Curran. And
Harlan, he went away"-she looked off
land left me-"
Mr.. Curran sighed. For his life he
could not have asked her further, but,
with an instinct for her underfow of
trouble, he kne-. Youth was not so
far away from him-nay, it was cry
ing in his hearth He wished guiltily
she would say more of this amazing
he had loved few.
Sometime I'll tell you," she went
on, but now ! just want you to tell
me what to do"
About going on the stage?"
Yes"
Wiley rubbed his head. What he
knew of the stage was not much. Il
suppose you must do something. And
the McFetridge boys-well, honestly, /
think they're straight, down in their
hearts. They're pretty near impossi-
bic and rough, maybe-but some way
/ don't think bad of EN-" Mr.. Cur
ran never thought bad of any one, even
Old Thad. He was always apologizing
for Old Thad to Arne Vance's denun-
Citations. "And i can't blame you,
Aurelie"-he looked off above the 81
lent peak-"the towns no place for
you-perhaps for no one who's young
and eager to live" He sighed. Il
know how it isl had my fling" He
took her hands and drew them across
the desk. I'm going to take a great
responsibility. I'm going to tell you-
60"
Yes; I'm gladI like you, Mr..
Curran. You make me feel that you
had trouble, too-and weren't afraid, !
and were misunderstood. And so I'm
going"
That's right. And be good little
girl, Aurelie. and don't let 'em spoil
you,"
"And some day III come back and
play in the tin opera house,
And they laughed They went out
through the dingy old shop and up the
path in the moonlight, he holding her
hand, both laughing. She seemed so
like himself-he could understand all |
that she could not say.
Aunt Abby listened, and then set
them out Banbury tarts and milk. |
'Dearie-dearie-Pm glad you've come |
back again-and to us in your trouble. |
And if you want to go to be an actress |
and marry millionaires, so there-go
do it, and don't mind what this town |
saysP Aunt Abbey was a vigorous, |
broad-faced old Philistine, and a great |
cook. Wiley had found her on his
wanderings, sitting on the tongue of |
her prairie schooner, watching a dead |
mule that she had depended on TO take |
her out of the Dakotas when the !!
chinchbug ate the wheat, and she had |
abandoned her claim. She had kept
house for him ever since-fat, decently |
sixty, and filled with huge chuckles. !
And the laughter came back to Au-
relies eyes that night, though she did |
lie awake, wondering about Uncle
Michigan good thing about wooden
legs was that one couldn't get rheu-
matism in them!
Wiley" grumbled Aunt Abby. when
Aurelie was in bed. that girl is suf-
fering-she's terribly in love with
somebody
yes" he answered, mournfully, pull
ing of his shoes in the doorway, Pm
afraid so. But she'll get over tive
all do. ] have myself dozen times"
Get out-you never got over one of
'em. The accumulation of 'em is
what's the matter with you" But when
h was in bed the old lady came in and
patted his cheek. you ought to get
married-even if have to leave you"
! wouldn't-not if you had to leave
me" he answered. "Oh, not a bit,
auntyp
The next day he took Aurelie over
to Earlville. Bravely he faced the stares
Il