Beverly banner. [volume] (Beverly, N.J.) 1877-1964, 1924-12-12

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share. We mustn't lose heart. The
game isn't up yet, by a good deal"
Like Gibbs, Ellen was impatient to
have these few days over. She could
not gauge her present strength for the
hideous ordeal Of parting with him,
| and of having Tommy say goodby to
his father. Her soul shrank from the
mere thought, and she dreaded a
breakdown on her part, or on Gibbs,
that should undo them all.
Lizzie had written her every day:
of the pretty house they had found in
Bridgeport, of the walks and talks she
had with Tommy, and of Joe and his
! new work. The little stories of Tom
! my, the assurance that he was well
and happy, the pictures of we'll
capped and wrapped Tommy playing
In a glitter of snow, were an interest
for Gibbs as well as herself.
Joe never wrote, but both Joe and
| Lizzie brought Tommy to Port Wash
| ington in answer to Ellens wire day
after the sentence had been pro-
nounced. The child looked rosy and
well, and leaped into his mothers
arms, instantly distracted from his first
embraces by her unfamiliar clothing.
"Why 'j'buy all black things. moth
| err"
Because grandpa is dead sweet
heart"
pointed to the old captain in the adj
joining room. "There's grandpal u
Dads father, Tom. You remember
Grandpa Josselyn, with the gold
glasses?"
as he dead?' said the child, In
sweet, injurious voice.
"You start your stumps out here,
Tom, and come and eat somethingl I"
Aunt Elsie said from the doorway.
| "How are you, Lizzie?"
"Oh, I'm fne" Lizzie, who looked
bad, said mildly.
rs she really?' Ellen asked, when
the old woman had taken Tommy and
Lizzie into the kitchen. 'Tve been
wondering. Tell me about Lizzie"
"She's all right" He smiled, rue
fully. "She's a sad little thing She
cries, and she's sorry she's wrecked
my life; all that sort of thing"
"And do you feel your life wrecked,
! Joe?" Ellen asked with a great ache
at her heart for his quiet, hopeless
| tone.
"Oh, mol" he said impatiently and
gruffiy. whats the difference, any
way?"
"Joe," Ellen said hesitatingly.
| 'Tm-sorry."
'Tm sorry for the whole thing" he
echoed. "It's a rotten morality that
makes a girl feel that there's no go
how good, she is, there's always the
feeling-why, Ellen. / know respec-
table girls in this town that aren't
| fit to tie Lizzie's shoes Girls clever
| enough to make their bargains in
cold blood-so much loving for a ring
and an income for life! Lizzie's a
loving little thing-she was starved
for someone to really care for-she
reached out for love the way scared
| kid might reach out for kitteni
And now she'll never see herself quite
like the others"-he gave his sister
! dubious smile-"she hasn't let me put
my arms about her" he conf1ded.
HASN'T" she echoed, amazed.
NO" Joe smiled. got to his feet.
and sighed. "It's fine old world !"
he remarked drily. And then with
an abrupt change of subject: I'm
so sorry for all this, sis. wish to
God could spare you this afternoon.
When do we go?"
''George calls at three" she an
swered quietly. II think l can get
through it thinking of Gibbs. I'm pray
ing-Tm praying-that can It's the
last pull, you know-and after this
after this | can faint or be sick or
do anything else. for awhile!"
YEARLY. she turned to go upstairs
with Lizzie and Tommy. Tommy
was to lie down and have favorite
book read to him for an hour: the
little boy was presumably tired from
his trip. Ellen left him when George
arrived, and came downstairs.
George, coming in at the hall door,
and Joe, who opened 1t to him, and
Aunt Elsie, who came to the dining
room door to greet him, looked at
her in amazement and vague alarm.
Her face was pale, she was breathing
hard, and there was a strange, fever
ish glitter In her blue eyes; she made
wild gesture that detained them all,
and caught George by the wrist. He
was instantly given the impression
of exhaustion, of desperate determi-
nation to say what must be said. be-
fore the collapse.
lTo BE coNTINUED.)