Evening star., 1922-10-22
He thanked God

It was Blossoms. He thanked God
she was still alive.
He was in her room in an instant.
and had switched on the light. She
lay in her bed, her face, once rosy.
now pale; her eyes, once placid. now
red-lidded and tear-swollen. He bent
over her with tremulous anxiety.
Honey. what's happened? Tell
your Ambrose"
She raised herself feebly in bed.
He thanked God she could move.
"Oh, it's too awful" said said with
a sob. TOO dreadful for words"
What? Oh. what? Tell me, Bios
som dearest Tell me. I'll be brave.
little woman. I'll try to bear it" He
pressed her fevered hands in his.
II can hardly believe it," she Sob
bed. II c-can hardly believe it"
Believe it? Believe what? Tell
me, Blossom darling. in Heavens
name, tell me-"
"Pershing." she sobbed in a heart
broken crescendo. "Pershing has be-
come a mother
Her SODS SnOCk neT.
And they're all mungles," she
cried, "all nine of them"
x X x
THCNDERCLOUDS festooned the
i usually mild forehead of Mr.
Pottle next morning. He was inclin-
ed to be sarcastic.
Fifty dollars per pup. eh?" He
said. Fifty dollars per pup, eh?"
Don't, Ambrose" his wife begged.
Il can't stand it To think with eyes
like that Pershing should deceive
ME"
"Pershingo" snorted Mr.. Pottle SO
violently the toast hoped from the
toaster. "Pershing? Not now. Vio-
let! Violet! Violet
Mrs. Potue looked meek.
The ashman said he'd take the
pups away if I gave him 81" she
said.
Give him So" said Mr.. Pottle, and
maybe he'll take Violet, too"
Il will not, Ambrose Pottle.' she
returned. Il will not desert her.
You actually intend to keep that
She did not allow him to pronounce
the epithet that was forming on his
lips. but checked it, with
Certainly I'll keep her. She is still
a one-man dog. She can still protect
me from kidnapers and burglars"
He threw up his hands. despairing
gesture.
In the days that followed Mr.. Pot
tie had little time to think of dogs.
The Chicago men, their enthusiasm
cooling when no longer under the
spell of Mr.. Politics. arguments. wrote
that they guessed that at this time.
things being as they were. and under
the circumstances. they were forced
to regret that they could not make
his shaving cream. but might at some
later date be interested, and they were
his very truly. The bank sent him a
frank little message saying that II
had no desire to go into the barber
business, but that it might find that
step necessary if Mr.. Pottle did not
step round rather soon with a little
donation for the loan department.
1t was thoughts Of this cherries
nature that kept Mr.. Pottle tossing
uneasily in his share of the bed. and
with wide-open, worried eyes doing
sums on the moonlit ceiling. he walt
ed the. morrow with numb pessimlsm'
for, though he had borrowed every
cent he could squeeze from friend or
foe, though he had pawned his faVor-
L.
of the needed amount. Three hum
dred dollars Is not much compared to
all the money in the world. but to Mr..
Pottle, on his bed of anxiety. 1t looked
like the great wall of China
He heard the town clock boom a
faint two. 1t occurred to him that
there was something singular, odd.
about the silence. 1t took him min
utes to decide what it was. Then he
puzzled it out Violet nee Pershing
was not barking. The thought skipped
through his brain that perhaps she
had run away. or been poisoned. and
in all his worry he permitted himself
faint smile of hope. No, he
thought. II was born unlucky. There
must be another reason"
Slipping from bed without disturb
ing the dormant Blossom. he crept on
wary bare toes from the room and
downstairs. Even so faint chinking
sounds came from the dining room.
With infinite caution Mr.. Pottle slid
open the sliding door a trifie. He
caught his breath.
X X
THERE, in a patch of moonlight.
i squatted the chunky figure Of
a masked man, and he was en-
gagged in industriously wrapping up
tho Pottle silver in bits OF cloth. Now
and then he paused in his labors to
pat caressingly the head Of Violet.
who Stood beside him watching with