Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1916-01-13

Tournament said Mr. Robert, tax
ing his cigar from his mouth. Eyes,
remember very we'll the-but what the
deuce are you talking about tourna-
mentS here at midnight for? Go long
home. Bushrod. l believe you're sleep
walking
Miss Lucy fetch you on de shout
der" continued the old man, never
needing, vivid a s'Ord and say: L mex
you a knight, Sub Robert. Rise up,
pure and fearless and widout re-
proach' Dat what Miss Lucy say.
OATS been a long time ago, but me
nor you amt forgot it. And den dar's
another time we amt forgot-de time
when Miss Lucy lay on her las bed
She sent for Uncle Bushrod, and she
say: Uncle Bushrod, when | die |
Robert. Seem like'-so Miss Lucy say
he listen to you mo- dan to anybody
else. He apt to be mighty fractions
sometimes, and maybe he cuss you
when you try to 'suade him, but he
need somebody what understand him
to be round wild him. He am like a
little child sometimes Miss Lucy
say, wild her eyes shinin' in her po,
thin face-'but he always been'-dem
was her words-'my knight, pure and
fearless and widout reproach.
Mr. Robert began to mask, as was
his habit, a tendency to sOfthearted
ness with q spurious anger.
''YOu-you old windbag," he growled
through a cloud Of swiriing cigar
smoke. Il believe you are crazy. /
told you to go home. Bushrod. Miss
Lucy said that, did she: Well, we
haven't Kept the cScutcheOn very clear
Two years ago last week. wasn't it.
BuShrol. when she died: COnfound
it. Are You going to stand there all
night Cabling like a coffee colored
gander?"
The train whistled again. Now it
was at the water tank, mile away.
"Marse Robert" said Uncle Bush
rod, laying his hand on the satchel
sake don take dis wild you | knows
what's in it. l knows where you got
it in de bank. Don kyar' it wild YOU.
Dey'S big trouble in dat valise for Miss
Lucy and Miss Lucy's child's chillun.
Hits bound to destroy de name Of
Weymouth and bow down dem dat
own it wild shame and triberlation.
MarSc Robert, you can kill dis ole mig
ger eff you will, but don't take away
dis 'cr' valise If | ever crosses over
de Jordan what [ gWine to say to Miss
Lucy when she AK me, Uncle Bushrod.
WharfO' didn' you take good care of
Mr.. R0bert?'"
Robert Weymouth threw away his
cigar and shook free one arm with
that peculiar gesture that always pre-
coded his Outbursts of irascibility. I'm
Gle BuShr0d bowed his head to the eX-
pected storm, but he did not finch. If
the house of Weymouth was to fall he
would fall with it. The banker spoke,
and Uncle Bushrod blinked with sur
prise. The storm was there, but it was
suppressed to the quietness Of a sum-
mer breeze.
"BuShrod," said Mr.. Robert in IA low
er voice than he usually employed,
''you have overstepped all bounds
You have presumed upon the leniency
with which you have been treated to
meddlc unpardonably SO you know
what is in this satChel? Your long
and faithful service is some excuse,
but-gO home, Bushrod-not another
world"
But BuShrOd grasped the satchel
with firmer hand. The headlight of
the train was now tightening the shad
OWS about the station. The roar was
increasing, and folks were stirring
about at the track side
''Nlarse Robert, gimme dis err valise.
| got Il right, sub, to talk to you dis
'cr' way. | shaved for you and tended
to you from Il child up. | went though
de war yo' body servant tell We whip
ped de Yankees and sent EN- back to
de moth. | was at yo' weddin', and
| was II fur away when yO Miss Lefty
was Dawn. And Miss Letty'S chillun.