The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1925-09-11
Author of

were forgotten. and we children drew
silently close to the fire, as, big-eyed
and flushed with adventure, we en-
tered the enchanted halls of Romance.
1t was when I was fourteen, and
about to enter the MILL that mother
was taken sick. I had never known
mother to be sick, and 1t was hard to
understand the silent house and the
darkened room. Mrs. Lane came over
and took charge and Marjorie stayed
at home from school to help.
One day as / came up the path
Marjorie met me with, Mother wants
you," so l went into the room. Fa-
Their was there; it seems he had not
gone to the mill that afternoon. He
was sitting on chair with his ell
bows resting on his knees and his
cheeks between his hands, and a stray
beam of light from the afternoon sun
fell through the window and across
his forehead. / wondered that I
had never noticed before how old he
was.
rs that you, ladder" my mother
called in a thin, weak voice, and
came beside the bed. my boy, my
boy!" she said, and her face worked
strangely, but she could say nothing
more than just my boy" Then /
knelt beside her, not knowing what
else to do, and she put one Of her
thin hands in my hair, and ran her
fingers slowly, with strange sort of
caressing, up and down and about
my head. And then an odd thing
happened. She began to sing, in a
strange, high, tremulous key. 1.-The
Lord Is My Shepherd" She did not
sing ii as you have heard it in church,
but with a gentle rhythmic beat, like a
lullaby, just as she had sung it to
me many time when / was little
child. After a while she seemed to
fall asleep, and 1 slipped out again.
Father had never moved, but beads
of sweat were standing on his fore
head.
Marjorie met me, round-eyed and
pale, at the door. "Oh, Frank! Is
mother going-is mother going-to
die? The last words were breathed
rather than spoken.
81 don't know" I said, pushing by
her and gulping at something in my
throat.
After mothers death Marjorie had
to stay at home from school and take
charge of the house. Marjorie had a
vast native ability behind her deep
black eyes, and in a short time mat
tiers were running sas smoothly as
could be hoped. l took job in the
mill-my dream of being locomotive
engineer had vanished almost with
by baby teeth-and I was now work.
ing from seven in the morning until
six at night for consideration OF
three dollars a week. My father
earned ten dollars week, so we were
in easy circumstances There were
no picture shows to tempt our spare
quarters, nor automobiles to make us
envious of our more fortunate neigh
bors.
Jack Lane also took a job in the
mill, when I did. We graduated into
long trousers together, and made our
youthful excursions, arm in arm, in
to the town on Saturday nights. Jack
was a handsome boy, with the fair
skin and hair of his sister Jean, and
many coquettish eye was turned
on him as we strolled about the little
town, or even as he worked at his
post in the mill. But while Jack
was by no means above a mild fiirta-
ton, he used to dismiss such events
with the comprehensive remark,
They're not in the class of Marjorie
or JEAN"
We were eighteen when the accident
happened to Peter Lane. He was
working about shaft, as he had done
perhaps a thousand times before
when some loose end of his clothing
Tapped around it. He clutched the
shaft and whirled with it until the
strength of his arms gave way; then
his body flew out and his head struck
a beam. Outside the mill
wheel placidly sprayed its mist OF
Jewels as from the hand of fairy
Drince.