The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current, 1914-12-10

Dttiu the WOIlu.
The old man laid down his pipe. He
cast a reproachful glance at the
painter. which said clearly. though
without words
Il have opened my home to you and
offered you what had yet in my old
age you take away my mainstay."
Il lowed you was a-studyin' erbout
tibet, Samson" he said. at last. i've
done Their best fer we | knowed.
kinder lowed tibet from now on ye'd do
the same fer me. I'm gittin' along in
years right smart. :"
Uncle Spicer," interrupted the boy,
Il reckon ye knows thet any time We
needed me I'd come back"
The old mans face hardened.
EFF we goes" he said, almost sharp
ly, Il won't never send fer We. Any
time we ever wants ter come back, ye
knows Their way. Tharll be room an
victuals fer We hyar."
II reckon / mout be a heap more
useful eff knowed more"
I've heerd fellers say that afore.
Hit hain't never turned out tibet way
with them what has left the mount
ings. Mebby they gets more useful,
but they don't git useful ter us. Either
they don't come back at all, or mebDy
they comes back full OF newfangled no
tions-an' ashamed of their kinfolks.
Thet's the way, I've noticed, hit gen.
ally turns out"
90 hot
might be the case with him. and was
silent. After time, the old man went
on again in weary voice, as he bent
down to loosen his brogans and kick
them noisily off on to the floor:
The Souths hev done looked to We
a good deal, Samson. They lowed they
could depend on We. Ye hain't quite
twenty-one yet, an l reckon could
refuse ter let ye sell yer prop'ty. But
thar hain't no use tryin' ter hold a
Teller when he wants ter quit. Ye
don't low ter go right away, do ye?"
Il hain't plumb made up my mind
ter go at ALL" said the boy, shame
facedly. But, eff | does go, hain't
a-goin yit. | hain't spoke ter nobody
but you about hit yit."
Lescott felt reluctant to meet his
hosts eyes at breakfast the next morn
ing, dreading their reproach, but, if
Spicer South harbored resentment, he
meant to conceal it, after the stoic's
code. There was no hint of constraint
in his cordially. Lescott felt, however,
that in Samsons mind was working
the leaven of that unspoken accusa-
ton of disloyalty. He resolved to
make a final play, and seek to enlist
Sally in his cause. If Sally's hero-wor-
ship could be made to take the form Of
ambition for Samson, she might be
brought to relinquish him for time,
and urge his going that he might re-
turn strengthened. He went down to
the creek at the hour when he knew
Sally would be making her way thither
with her milk pail, and intercepted her
coming.
AS she approached, she was singing,
and the man watched her from the dis
lance. He was landscape painter and
not a master of genre or portrait. Yet.
ne NlSlcu tlldb lG ullBuly UGLOIb SOlllBs
paint Sally.
Miss Sally" he began, I've discoy-
cred something about Samson"
Her blue eyes flashed ominously.
"Ye can't tell me nothin' bout Sam
son." she declared, "withouten hits
somethin' nice"
Its something very nice" the man
treasured her.
Then, we needn't tell me. because
already knows hit" came her prompt
and confident announcement
Lescott shook his head, obviously.
Samson is a genius" he said.
What's theft"
"He has great gifts-great abilities
to become a figure in the world"
She nodded her head, in prompt and
full confederation.
Il reckon Samson1l be the biggest
man in the mountings some day"
HE ought to be more than that"
Suspicion at once cast cloud across
the violet serenity of her eyes.
What does we mean?" she de-
manded.
81 mean"-the painter paused a mo-
ment, and then said bluntly-'T mean