Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1913-09-23

But the cup Of sorrow is seldom left
half filled. Barely had the widow
settled down to a hopeful struggle on
behalf of her beloved son than a
quarrel between partners led to the
sale of the FIRMS business to a lin
tied liability company Economies
were effected to make way for sala-
ried directors. Philip was dismissed,
with several other Junior employees,
and the stable yard was marked out
as a suitable site for the storage of
coal required by the local factories.
This development took place early
in the new year, and the new com
pany allowed Mrs. Arson to occupy
her tiny abode until the last day of
March. 1t was now March 8, and how
the widow and her son had lived dur
ing the past two months the doctor
could only guess from the gradual
depletion of their little store OF fur.
niture.
1t was odd that such an intelligent
and well bred woman should be so
completely shut off from the rest Of
the world, and his first question to
Phil sought to determine this mys-
terry.
Surely" he said. there is some
one to whom you can appeal for help.
Your father and mother must have
had some relatives-even distant
cousins-and, If they are written to,
a friendly hand may be forthcoming.
Philip shook his head. The mere
taste of food had provoked a raven
Gus appetite. He could not eat ia st
enough. The doctor stayed him
Better wait a couple Of hours, Phil,
and then you can take hearty meal.
That's the thing. ! like to see such
prompt obedience, but you certainly
have wonderful self control for one
so young. l may tell you, to relieve
present anXieties, that a few en-
ployees of your fathers firm have
guaranteed the expense Of your moth
er's funeral, and they also gave me
a sovereign to tide you over the next
few days"
Funeral! The word struck with
sledge- hammer force. Phil had not
thought OF that. He remembered the
dismal pOmp of such events in this
squalid locality, the loud sobbing Of
women, the hard faced agony of men
the frightened curiosity Of children.
His mother, so dear so tender, so
oft-cheeked-the bright beautiful
laughing woman of their life in
Dieppe-to be taken away from him
forever and permitted to fade slowly
into nothingness in some dreadful
place, hidden from the sunshine and
the flowers she loved! For the first
time he understood death. When MS
father was killed his mother was left
Anxious tending on her dispelled the
horror of the greater tragedy. Now
all was lost. The tears that he ha ted
We're yelling forth again, and he saw
agely bit his lip
The Letter.
You have been-very good-to us.
doctor" he forced himself to say. II
ever-I can repay you
There, there, not a word! Bless
my soul, yours is a difficult case"
Again the doctor tackled his glove.
He glanced at his watch.
-Four O'clock! l am an hour late
on my rounds. No, Phil. Don't so
upstairs. There are some women
coming. Wait until they have tended
your mother. And-one last word.
1t will do you no good to keep vigil
by her side. Best think Of her as
living, not dead. You will be CRATE
ful for my advice in after life"
The women arrived c,arse but
kindly hearted creatures. One of
them gave the boy a packet of let
tiers.
81 found EN- under the dear lydy's
pillow" she said Neither poverty
nor death robbed Mrs. Arson of the
respect paid to her by all who came
in contact with her
He sat down, united string which
bound the letters together and looked
at the address on the fir.t envelope
1t bore his mothers name and a re-
cent pOstmark. Wondering dolefully
what correspondence she could have
had during these later months that
demanded such careful preservati IN,
he took out the letter. Suddenly he
hesitated. Perhaps these documents
alluded to something which his moth
er did not wish him to know. For an
instant hts impulse vas to consign
the packet to the fire No; that
might be wrong He would glance
at their general purport and then
commit them to the flames il he
thought At.
The letter in his hand was headed: