The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1914-05-07
SHE knew HER
BOY WOULD COME
{ Years Of Weary Waiting had not
Shaken This Mothers Confidence in
Her Only Boy Jim-A Pathetic Story,
True From Life.
HE never LIED TO Me-
By l.. II. Mitchell

OH udu kSR lNluS udy L was CdlIcu
to the county poor farm on pro-
fessional case of double personality.
AS | drove up to the farm home,
L noticed a bent, weazened, gray
haired little woman sitting at win
dow in the woman's ward. At the
crunching of the carriage wheels on
the graveled driveway she put her
face up against the window pane
and peered out at me. The express
sion of eager, happy expectation on
her face turned to one of hopeless.
dumb misery as l came up the walk
to the entrance. My profession has
hardened me to all sorts of distress
and suffering. but that face REQUIRED
to me again and again while | was
still experimenting on the man with
the double personality, but finally in
the two or three eager, resultful
hours that followed l forgot her
completely.
AS l was leaving. l turned to
speak to the superintendent, who
accompanied me to the carriage, and
saw again the old woman sitting
motionless by the window. Her
face was empty of expression as she
stared vacantly out into the road.
Burton, who is that old woman
at the Window" I asked, stopping
- abruptly.
You will be interested in her,
replied the superintendent. / want
you to meet her."
l followed him back into the home
and up to the plainly furnish room
which she occupied.
The doctor wishes to see you,
Mrs. Wilson," was all the superin-
tendent said by way of introduction.
Faith in Her Boy
She rose and bowed quantity in
reply to my common-p places of great
ing. She was small and thin, pro-
badly eighty years of age. Her
faded blue eyes renamed vacant for
time as she seemed to strive to
bring her mind back from some
memory that had engrossed it.
Then eager expectancy returned to
her face.
rs it my boy? Is he coming for
me? He said he would come Thanks
giving day. Jim's good good boy;
he's never lied to me-"
The doctor doesn't know your
son. Mrs. Wilson," said the superin-
tendent.
WAS he to come for you today?"
l asked.
He said he'd come to take me
away Thanksgiving" the old woman
replied.
She's been here fifteen years" Mr..
Burton said to me in low voice as
he put his hand gently on her shoul-
der. Mrs. Wilson had heard the
remark and raised her faded blue
eyes to him.
He'll come, Mr.. Burton. He told
me he would. He's never lied to
me. He couldn't come the first
Thanksgiving because Sarah was
sick. Then crops were bad and he
sold out and moved to Oregon. But
he'll come. Jim's good boy; he
loves me. Maybe he can't come to-
day, but he'll come next year"
It's long way TO come from
Oregon, said to soothe her. Times
have been hard for several years,
and he's no doubt had his troubles -
Mrs. Wilson smiled at me for
having faith in her boy-a smile of
justified pride and gratitude for my
belief In him.
His Last Letter
Sarah died last year." she said,
and so he couldn't come. 1t costs
more to die than it does to be born.
He's got the children to look after.
Here's his last letter." She took it
carefully out of Bible on the table.
Perhaps you'd like to see it. He
hasn't forgotten"
The letter was written in pencil,
in the trembly hand of age. Many
of the lines quavered so that | could
with difficulty decipher the words.
1t was dated three years back, from
Los Angeles. and breathed of genuine
love and respect. 1t was hopeless
in tone except that the writer reit-
Grated his intention of coming for
his mother. 1t grieved him that he
had had to leave her at the poor
farm so long, but everything had
gone wrong with him. He had tried
to deal honestly with all men, and