The Wolf Point herald. (Wolf Point, Mont.) 1913-1940, 1922-05-04

al Tell You, He's B%acksIidin'."
knows / can't hold out against him Il
I'm only across the tracks from him
He knows the minute he's himself
again, with his head up, he can get
me back. That sort of going don't dc
no good, Liddy. You can't do me nc
good"
God knows l done my duty by you,
warning you that morning in April,
Annie, Steve wasn't no saint, but as
fine a boy if"
eyes, and l took the chance. Took
the chance, with Orrick Lowney crazy
wild to ditch over his grandfather and
a million if I'd close my millinery shop
to be his misses and off to Europe with
him. Took the chance and stuck in
this burg with him through those first
two years of hi before the baby came,
took"
annie, you're making yourself sick,
girl"
TOOK a chancei And even with
everything wasn't sorry. But I'm done
now! What 1 got left I'd like to know,
with my baby gone and the thirst back
on him? l amt got the strength to
stand it, Liddy. From the gayest girl
in two counties I'm a wreck, Liddy I!
Look at me, a wreck, Liddy. Both my
babies gone, one worse than"
But, Annie, dear Lords sake, An
ME"
Done, l tell you. Sister or no SIS
ter of his, l can't help what you are,
I'm done. I swore to him last night,
and he was too silly to hear me, but I
swear to you now, Liddy, and to God
above"
annie! !"
that I'm done. And If you don't
believe me, look at my packed tele-
scope there in the corner and my veil
on my hat, and"
annie ~
HE had enough respect for his job
all these years never to show up there
tipsy; he had enough respect for his
baby lev to let him smell the vile
ness on his fathers breath. He-he's
got enough respect for his sister never
to want her to be here at the house
when he-he comes home silly, but
but what's he got for me? His wife!
For me! What, Liddy, what? What?"
And she fell forward in her own arms,
drenched in a bath of tears.
He's your husband, Annie; before
God, he's your husband, and nothing
al change it."
II tell you, Liddy, if he comes home
red-eyed tonight, SO help me if there's
anything can change me. There's the
seven-ifty st. Louis Accommodation
out of here, and L tell you I'm done.
Done"
mo, no, Annie girl. You come to me.
For Gods sake, you come to me. If
it amt all well tonight, I'll keep the
lamp burning for you in the side win
dow and the shade up so you'll see it.
Annie, when you reach the tracks. I'd
stay here with you, Annie, only it
makes Steve sore if / stay toto see
him come like that. I'll keep the light,
girl, and-and you come to me. To
mel"
mo, no, Liddy, that amt the kind of
done I am. Beasley's always got a
corner for me somewhere in her room
ing house. | can get a job trimmin' in
Einstein's there easy as anything, any
day I want. I'm done, Liddy, for sure.
Done, / tell you. I'm going!''
"Annie-Annie, you-you wouldn't"
wouldn't L? Watch"
= .
At a little after four came dusk to a
dusk-colored day at five, night, with
the wind gone down and the rain faster
and finer, like spilling sands. The Chi
cage Limited, with the Shrek of a
maniac and without pause for Spartan,
tore neck and neck with its schedule
through the town, rafting it's window
panes and the warning bell at cross
roads.
Al six O'Clock a medley of steam
whistles rose like rockets from the
roofs of the Wellington-Lowney
Wire Works, and five hundred workers
Strengthened and WINGED of crick in the
back.
In Annie Kineady's kitchen a lamp
burning against a tin reflector and
through q brilliantly clean chimney
threw a yellow patch out into the pud-
died side yard. Annie Kineady drew
that shade and placed a thick plate of
cut bread in the center of the