The citizen. (Honesdale, Pa.) 1908-1914, 1913-01-03

year Tor anotner." Inc Judge cleared
his throat. "I'll take 1t under consid
Grafton"
A queer smile softening the lines of
his mouth the senator sat staring at the
portrait of Thomas Dunmeade. John"
he said at last, "made a good speech,
eh, judgeT
1.-THE elocution was good" was the
carefully considered answer. "But to
think a Dunmeade should voice such
rabid radicalism, such wild sentiment
alities Johns course will not affect
the matter we discussed last winter.
will it?'
"You mean the justiceship? My in
auence in the organization is little
uncertain just at present. These trials
haven't helped either"
II have that also against my son"
the judge said angrily. "He has made
it more difficult for his father to realize
lifelong ambition. Besides" he ad-
died. attacking my best friend. He is
too selfish and set in his opinions to
consider his fathers interest He
doesn't get 1t from me. He Is" the
Judge concluded. "his mothers son."
| The senator did not smile. "His
mothers son.
J He was not sentimental man. He
did not "love the memory" Of Anne
Dunmeade nor indulge in sweetly sad
retrospection. He thought of her now
merely as marking one stage Of his
development. He remembered her as
gentle yet high spirited thing full of
ardent enthusiasms and with an I'M
shakable belief-it struck him now as
almost pathetic-in the goodness of her
fellows and the ultimate triumph of
''the right" There must have been, he
thought, unsuspected possibilities-pos-
sibilities that had not been realized-in
him since he could love this woman.
He was far from ready to admit that
their realization would have been prof
table.
His mothers son. 1 guess that ex-
plains him." He rose. about that
justiceship-I'll see what can be done.
But promise nothing definitely so far
ahead. You understand that?'
Certainly" the judge assented.
But l expect you to do your best l
feel" he added with dignity, that my
services to my country and to my par
ty warrant my expectation. And l
ought to draw the old soldier vote to
the ticket"
''And, judge" Murchell concluded,
think over the Sheehan sentence
think it over" He went out Of the
room.
On the next Saturday morning James
Sheehan, found guilty of conspiracy to
falsify election returns, was summoned
to bar and sentenced to four months
hard labor" in the county workhouse.
But before the appeal which he took
had been refused by the higher court
he had left Benton county for parts un-
known.
John sought refuge in the cubbyhole
that Benton county provides for Its
district attorneys. With sense or re-
lief he filed away his notes on the
Sheehan case in a cabinet marked
FINISHED Business" Then he threw
himself into a chair and began to take
stock.
Sheehan's eyes haunted him. John
was normal young man, and he was
capable of knowing the JOY Of a task
well done. But not this sort of task
He could find no elation in triumph
won at the cost Of direct personal mis-
cry to others. There was Slayton, for
example, handsome, pleasant young
man who looked the criminal not at
all. He had not had the courage to
stand trial, and he had broken bail and
fed, leaving a sick wife. She and the
child born since the fathers flight now
lay together in a grave. Slayton had
not dared to return. Perhaps he did
not even know Of the double tragedy
In his dreams John often saw Slayton's
hunted face as it must now appear.
He became conscious that his head
was aching, that he was tired all over,
every nerve in his body throbbing. For
more than six months, ever since his
election, he had been working inces-
sanity, feverishly toward this day. The
release from strain allowed his NAL
treated, protesting body to be heard
He got up and left the office, as though
fleeing from the problem.
He laid a roundabout course away
from Main street out into the country
He tramped determinedly along the
pike, filling his lungs with the tonic
air. 1t had been a good growing sea-
SON." His way took him between
fields of clean young corn and barley
and oats and occasional cool, green
wood lots.
A farmer, driving a pair of heavy
farm horses doing duty at the tongue
Of squeaky spring wagon, ratified up
behind him.
"Howdy, John Want a lift?"
"Howdy, Ri! No. thank you. just
taking little exercise and soaking in
, all this"
Cranshawe reined in his team. John
stopped.
, ttT L. - g., HoI