Mansfield mirror. (Mansfield, Wright County, Mo.) 1908-1957, 1914-06-25

ana mat ne nveo In q past which
they had never known. So he wrote
a little card, ITO my granddaughter
Ellen's husband" and tied it to the
scabbard.
His preparations were made now.
The sleeping mixture stood on his
bedroom table~an overdose; and
when Ellen came back from the the.
alter that night he would be asleep,
as he should have been long ago.
He put on a clean neckerchief. and.
sitting down in his big chair with the
sword on his knees. listened for the
slamming of the hall door below. The
little wooden clock on the mantel.
with the queer pink roses on the face,
marked eight, five minutes past, ten
minutes past; and still the family had
not gone out. The old man sat and
thought-thought of the day he was
married OF long ago Christmases and
rows Of little stockings; OF children
that had never lived TO grow up: and
then, with tbs. sword before him. OF
Buena Vista and Monterey.
After q time he began to feel hun
been cream cakes for dinner, and that
he had refused them. They were
very nice, those little cream cakes
but then, after all. what did II mat
ter" II they would only go out
Grandfather Huxley sat looking at
the picture hanging under the unfad-
ed spot on the wall paper which
marked the swords resting place. AZ
ter a little the picture faded and
grew misty in outline. The old mans
head dropped on his chest, and he
was asleep. The fire burned to a
dull red. bursting now and again into
a smoking jet of flame, shining on the
sword across the old mans knees. on
the bottle beside the bed. and the mar
row. dropping chin of the sleeper.
He Weakened with a start. The
crust over the s%moldering Goals had
fallen in and the oom was bright
From somewhere below was audible
a faint, creaking cry, a wall that beat
aSoAHs NuC Col lioASNAhcAyF
paused for a second. to go on with
fresh vigor.
Grandfather Huxley looked at the
clock. 1t was 1873 SO Ellen was not
al home. He listened for Nora's step.
Hearing no one, he got up heavily
and went TO the head Of the stairs.
The cries kept or longer now. with
fewer intervals for breath. and with
an occasional hoarse note Of ~infantile
rage.
The old man lost his look of indeci-
sion: he turned back into the room
and fumbled for his slippers. Then.
with an agility that no n in the
house suspected, he went downstairs
to the nursery.
The wicker structure OF the baby's
bed was vibrant with its occupants
rage. From among the dotted Swiss
rulings and blue ribbons Grandfather
Huxley extracted his great-grandchild
and gathered him into his empty old
arms. The baby quoted at once; his
wrinkled old face relaxed, and he set
tied comfortably, seeming to recog-
nize the practised touch of hands that
had handled. on occasion, three gener-
atoms of babies.
1t was an hour later when Ellen
came home. She tiptoed upstairs
ahead of her husband; then she
paused and. with her finger on her
lips, cautioned him to silence. The
oldest and the youngest member OF
the family sat before the fire in
dreamy, open-eyed content When she
saw they we're awake, Ellen went
over and, STOPPING down, kissed first
| the baby, then the old man.
He wakened, and Nora must have
been asleep" said Grandfather Huxley.
apologetically.
Ellen slipped her hand into his with
a grateful little pressure.
What would we do without you!
she said impulsively. This family
without you would be a ship without
a keel. wouldn't IT."
Grandfather Huxley smiled, the first
time for a week. Ellen got up and
went toward the door.
I'm going to bring you something
to eat. You ate no dinner at all, and
there are some of those little cream
| cakes left. Perhaps, If you eat some
thing, you won't need the sleeping
medicine"
Grandfather Huxley choked.
I'm going to throw that stuff away.
every drop of it" he said firmly.
Left alone. he gathered the young
ster closer in his arms.
so the old mans of some use, after
ALL" he mused. "A ship without a
keel. eh?"
A little later Ellen and her husband.
in the buffers pantry below, stopped
to listen. Grandfather Huxley was
singing to the baby, and down the
stairs came the stirring words Of The
Sword of Bunker HILL" sung in a thin.
tremulous old voice.
| Copyright by the Frank A. Munsey Coz