The Calhoun chronicle. [volume] (Grantsville, W. Va.) 1883-1984, 1916-06-22

ueptns or her soul. * just couldn't be.
Here l am. ma" said Mary Alice.
"WRs you scaredf'
II was most scared to pieces. child.
Good land, wh2re've you been?"
My names Thomas. Sam Thomas"
said the bucolic stranger IL s'pose
you're Mrs. Brown. This little girl
come TO my house last night. and we
kept her till mornin'. I'd brought her
back sooner. but what with chores and
errands and"
He stopped and looked hard at the
woman. Then he bllnked I'm puzzled
way and asked: Say. am l mistaken
or are you Lottie Dillingham;, that mar
ried Lem Brown?"
That's just who 1 am" said Mrs.
Brown. IL recognized you the minute
you opened that door. Sam"
"Gosh!' said Sam. He held out
large hand. about as soft and yielding
-as nodded brick. This Is a surprise.
amt itw
Mary Alice looked in bewilderment
from her mother to her new friend and
back again. Something besides whip
pings and skipped meals was begin
ming to happen in her life. She lis
tened with her entire equipment OF
ears to the conversa ton between her
mother and Sam Thomas; and she
helped get the breakfast The baby
sucked contentedly at a bottle of warm
milk. Mrs. Brown said he was a good
deal better.
Mrs. Brown was not a reticent wom-
an; that is, If she were. all her instinct
of self-repression was broken down by
this unexpected meeting with an old
fHend. She told Sam Thomas all the
things that Mary Alice had been at
pains to conceal. 1t was not quite
edifying TO hear her do so. Mary Alice
did not understand the awful longing
TO tell ones troubles that accumulates
through years of silent suffering.
Mrs. Brown had had home and a
baby girl, as much hers as LENS. This
home she had helped to make pretty
and attractive Mrs. Brown and her
baby did not drink. of course. Lem
lost job after job and became desti-
tute. Nobody would keep Lem at work
just because his wife was sober and In
dustrious. Mrs. Browns uneXception-
able habits did not prevent the build
ing and loan" from foreclosing the
mortgage. She and her children were
paying,a debt they had never incurred
suffering vengeance where no ven
geance was due.
You can say IL you like that II
served Lem Brown right to lose his
home; he drank It up. But you can't
say it served Mrs. Brown right TO lose
hers. You can say If you like that II
| served Lem right to be sent up, in the
coldest time OF year, to work out a
three months sentence in a warm jail
workshop, where the tasks were, after
all, not unbearably hard and there
were blankets at night and regular
nourishment. But you can't say that
it served Mrs. Brown right to bear a
child in an unheated room, with quite
inadequate attention and not penny
at hand to pay for the nakedest neces-
saries OF her situation. Little Dick had
been thus born.
Mary Alice Brown trudged Off with
the wagonload of laundry for Mrs
Travers. Something had happened in
| her life. What was to come of I'll
She looked down trife complacently
at her new dress of dark blue cloth
with red trimmings. Below the new
dress a stout pair of shoes came into
alternate view. They were still stiff
and hurt villainously. Mary Alice
didn't care. She hauled the heavy wag
on up Clipper Hill and gloried in hel
aching feet. Halfway up she met q
boy with red hair.
All the Joy went out Of the little
girls heart. This was the boy who
had helped her last night, the boy she
had treated so cavaHerly, whose boun
ty she had spurned and later picked W
from the gutter. She felt as II she
had stolen It,
"Hello. Mary Alice Brown" said
| Francis Wiliett. All resentment had
apparently gone from him. He seized
the wagon tongue.
Aren't you going TO speak to meP
he inquired. what you mad atY"
"I amt mad" said Mary Alice
Francis assumed the entire labor vi
hauling the wagon. She tried valnly
| to pull a share OF the load.
"Oh, you leggo," said francis. 81
don't neod any help. Say, how often
do you come up this way? I'll tel
| you what I'll do. Every day you come
up I'll try to be here and help you
I belong to the Galahad knights. Us
Galahad Knights have got TO assist
maidens I'm distress You can be a
maiden I'm distress. can't your"
How much.' asked Mary Alice
docs 1t cost to belong to your Gala
/ had Knights?"
twenty-five cents a year but girls
| can't"
Gould a little boy that lives out IN
the country, all by himself with his
father and mother, on a farm, belong
to it7 He's a cripple. he never move
out OF his chair all day. Could he he
/ lOngw
~"sure, n he's got twenty-five cents
/ he could"
Mary Alice 6shed I'm the pocket OF
her new dress. She had forgotten. iu
the fash OF her big idea, that she was
beholden TO this very boy for the coins
her fingers touched She could only
see. as I'm a vision. the radiant face oi
/ Charlie Thomas. framed I'm its inval
liable border OF gold
Here" said Mary Alice "His