Fulton County tribune. (Wauseon, Ohio) 1883-1925, 1914-07-03

a consultation with oenna, cl eakeu
down again. She came over and
leaned down.
L told Mr.. Simpson you would stay
for while" she said. viii you?"
IN stay until-until morning."
What he wanted to say was until
the end" but with those fingers
clutching his, he could not frame the
words. And without reason he re-
sented her question. Would he stay
for a while-he, the elder son, and
his father dying?
George will be here in the mora
ing" she whispered, and tiptoed away.
Only the night was his, then. After
all the years only a few hours, and
those because his father thought he
was some one else.
The old man stirred little and
wakened. His feeble hand was lifted
slowly until it rested on the Prodigals
bowed head.
You have been great joy to me,
George" he said gently-"a great Joy.
I shall tell your mother. May God
bless you!" He lay for a few mo-
ments quite still. his eyes on the yel-
low roses of the ceiling paper. The
Procigal groaned Oh, to turn up
the light, to stand forth in his true
colors for what he was, to beg for
giveness and a blessing for himself!
George" the thin voice began
again Il have been thinking much
about Harry" The Prodigal drew in
his breath sharply. 81 seem to see him
lin the corners of the room-every-
where"
If he could only say 81 am here!"
But the cowardice that had kept him
away so long held him now.
The old man slept again. The Prod
igal still knelt, but now he was cry
ing, sobbing noiselessly, his shabby
coat heaving Outside, in chair in
the dim hall his sister slept, shawl
wrapped around her shoulders. The
faint, blush gray of the early spring
dawn came through the open win
the stamping of horses. The Prodi-
gal got up stifiy and turned out the
light The slight motion reused the
sleeper little
! He was always high-spirited lad,
j mother, he said clearly. His faults
are of the head, not the heart. DON'T
cry, mother He'll come back"
The Prodigal gripped the foot Of
the bed with straining hands. The old
mans eyes were open looking at him.
Il have come, father" he said
hoarsely But the feeble mind had
wandered. The minister was in his
church again, looking down from the
pulpit at the faces of his people. His
| voice was stronger and full, and the
son sank back into the shadow.
My friends, let us sing together
this wonderful hymn: There were
ninety and nine" The voice trailed
off into silence The old man lay very
still. He scarcely breathed, and tbs
pulse in his thin neck fiuttered and al
most stopped And out of the shadow
! and dropped on his knees.
Father father" he groaned, dom
you know me? It's Henry, father
Henry I've come back"
| The old. man was smiling a little
as If he already saw beyond the border
| land But at the voice he reused. HI
looked long and lingeringly into th'
eyes of the man beside the bed; ther
he lifted his hand in benediction ant
placed it on the bent, shaking head.
Henry" he said softly Henry, m!
eldest son. May God bless you!" Ther'
was a great peace on his face. Hi
voice was almost gone. but the Prodi
gal caught the whispered words tina
he uttered:
For this my son was dead and Ii
alive again: was lost and is found.
The room was very still; the faint
irregular breath stopped. And on hi
knees beside the bed the Prodiga
watched and prayed.
Copyright, by the Frank A. Munsey Co.