Belington progressive. [volume] (Belington, W. Va.) 1912-1927, 1923-12-13


She did not answer.
"Your-brother, my-roommate was
very enthusiastic about his pretty sis
ter. But even he did not do you jas
tice. You are"
He stopped abruptly, stared past her
into the night, as If cropping for words
to clothe thought unusual with him.
The look Of tired student came
slowly back to his face, and his Shout
ders dropped as If weary with bearing
the burdens Of others. Mumbling fur
Their word or two, he turned from her.
crossed the foot-log with mincing step,
and passed on through the orchard
toward the parsonage.
The girl walked back up the path
and sat down on the porch step.
Words were never too plenty with
the woodsman, even In his most fluent
| moments. He leaned against a post
and looked down at her. She seemed
busy with her thoughts. The silence
was SO deep that the clink Of the
dishes, as Mrs. Curry put them away.
and the crinkle of the old bankers
letters, as he sat reading them at the
head of the dining-room table, carried
to them out on the porch.
The man reused himself from the
spell Of the silence; stepped off the
porch and sat down by the girls side.
what d y'u think of him?" she
asked.
1t was characteristic Of the woods
man that he should answer by an
other question.
"What d. your"
The girl laughed-a contented little
laugh like the lilt of the happy water
at the bridge.
"Oh, think he's"
There came groan from the dining
| room, and the sound Of heavy fall.
They sprang up and dashed into the
house, just as Mrs. Curry ran In from
the kitchen. The money-lender lay
sprawled on the floor, in one hand an
open letter, In the other an empty
envelope.
The girl darted across the room and
bent above the sh 'unken figure.
Jack Jack-i"
Tickle, no, don't be flustered. It's
just another one O. them faintin' spells.
He'll be all right In minute
He raised the old man in his great
arms and laid him on sofa at the
side Of the room.
Mrs. Curry had hurried back to the
kitchen for cold water and cloths, and
Texie was urging Jack to run for the
doctor, when the old banker opened
his eyes.
Doctor p he painted hard for
breath. "WhO wants a doctor? It's
jist another one O. them fainty spells.
Look there"
He held up the letter. The girl
glanced at it carelessly; then, with a
quick exclamation, turned 1t toward
the woodsman. And thus holding 1t
between them they read it slowly,
word by word.
Somewhere in New York,
MAY 2. 1849.
"Simon Colin,
Buckeye, Ind.
"Sir:
Il caught fellow with a card up
his sleeve and called him. He beat
me on the draw, and here am. This
girl here says can't last till the inks
dry, and I'm not doubtin' her. She's
always played square with me. I
reckon you wouldn't allow her inside Of
your little old synagogue down there
In the Flatwoods, but she'd be the
whitest one there-except Sis.
you've been one hi of a father
to me. I've heard you pray by the
yard, and I've heard cussin' that was
more religious. You starved mothers
life out, and you're starvin' the life
out Of Sis, but you didn't starve my
life .out, d-n you. I've got drop Of
OF Red Colin in me-him that brought
family. I've had my fling-and that's
more than you can say, with all your
money that, you've wrung out Of better
men.
Il reckon I've got but few minutes
to live. I'd give half of them to see
Sis. But If you'd come in right now,
I'd try to get up and kick you out.
I'm dyin' as oil Red Colin died-with
my boots on. I'm expecting to meet
him and you both-in hi
| KEN CO."
''P. S.-Mr Colin is dead. He died
before he could quite finish signing his
name. You can see the blot where the
pen fell. I am respecting his wishes
and sending this letter without any
street address, or other marks, where
by you might trace him. His conf
dence shall never betray. will only
say that he shall have decent burial.
THE GIRL"