The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1926-11-05

most of the children of the community.
The wind in their faces was bitter
cold, making conversation difficult.
Whether or not Kent was grateful for
this, one could not say. He watched
Lydia out of the tail of his eye and as
the wind whipped the old red into her
cheeks, he began to whistle. They
had been going perhaps fifteen min
utes when the little girl stumbled sew
eral times.
whats the matter. LydT asked
Kent
ST don't know" she painted. FL
guess I'm tired"
"Tired already! Gosh! And you've
always worn me out. Come on up TO
the shore, and I'll make a fire, SOS
you can rest"
Lydia, who always had scorned the
thought of rest, while at play, fol-
lowed meekly and stood in silence
while Kent without removing his
skates hobbled up the bank and pulled
some dead branches to the shore.
Shortly he had bright blaze at her
feet He kicked the snow off small
log.
"Sit down-here where you get the
warmth" he ordered, his voice as
gruff as he could make it.
Lydia sat down obediently, her nit
tened hands clasping her knees. Kent
stood staring at his little chum. He
took in the faded blue tam, the out
grown coat, the red mittens, SO badly
mended, the leggings with patches on
the knees. Then he eyed the heavy
circles around her eyes and the droop
to the mouth that was meant to be
merry.
Kent was only a boy, but he was
mature In spite of his needless ways.
Staring at the tragedy in Lydia's raw
ished little face, a sympathy for her
pain as real as 1t was unwonted swept
over him. Suddenly he dropped down
beside her on the log and threw his
boyish arms about her.
I'm so doggone sorry for you, Ly-
dial" he whispered.
Lydia lifted startled eyes to his.
Never before had Kent shown her the
slightest affection. When she saw the
! sweetness and sympathy in his brown
gaze:
"Oh, Kent" she whispered, "why
did God let 1t happen! Why did He?"
and she buried her face on his shout
der and began to sob. Softly at first,
then with a racking agony of tears.
Even child Is wise In the matter
of grief. Kent's lips trembled, but
he made no attempt to comfort Lydia.
He only held her tightly and watched
the fire with bright, unseeing eyes.
And after what seemed long, long
time, the sobs grew less. Finally, he
skipped a pocket handkerchief into
Lydia's hand. 1t was gray with use
but of comforting SIZE
wipe your eyes, old lady," he said
| in a cheerful, matter of fact tone.
"Tve got to put the fire out, SOS we
can start home"
| Lydia mopped her face and by the
time Kent had the fire smethered with
snow, she was standing, sad-eyed but
calm except for dry sobs. Kent picked
up one of the sticks he had brought
for the fire.
Catch hold" he said, "I'll pull you
| home"
Old Lizzie was watching for them
and when they came stamping into
the dining room, they found a pitcher
of steaming cocoa and plate of bread
and butter with hot gingerbread
awaiting them.
"See If you can get her to eat
Kent" said Lizzie.
"Sure, she'll eat" Kent answered
her. Gimme back my hanky, Lyd r
Lizzie gave a keen look at Lydia's
/ tear-stained face and turned abruptly
| into the kitchen. She came back in a
moment to fnd~Lydia silently eating
what Kent had set before her.
Kent ate hugely and talked without
cessation. About what, Lydia did not
know, for the sleep that had been
denied her was claiming her. She did
not know that she almost buried her
head in her second cup of cocoa, MOI
that Kent helped carry her to the
couch behind the living room base
burner.
'Is she sick? Shall / get the doc
] torY' he whispered as old Lizzie
tucked shawl over her.
"Sickl No! Mol She's just deat
for sleep. She's neither cried nor eal
nor had decent hour of sleep since
it happened. And now, thanks to you
she's done all three. You are gooe
boy, Kent Moulton."
Kent looked suddenly foolish anl
embarrassed. "Aw-that's nothing" h,
muttered. where's my coat? Mayb.
I'll come out again tomorrow, if aim
got anything better to do"
All the rest Of the winter after
noon, Lydia slept. Amos came home
at seven and he and Lizzie ate supper
In silence except for the old lady,
story of Kents visit.
"Poor young one" muttered Amos
looking slowly toward the quiet blont
head on the faded brown cushion
"pm glad she's child and I'll forge
1t soon"
Lizzie gave Amos a curious glance
you don't know Lydia. Amos" sh'
said.
He did not seem to hear her. HI
moved his chair toward the stove, pu
his feet on the fender, lighted his pip
and then sat without moving until ,
STAINING of feet and a hearty rap oil
the door reused him. Lizzie let Johl
Levine in.
"Where's Lydia?" was Levine's frs
question.
Lizzie pointed to the couch, where
undisturbed, Lydia slept on.
"Good !" said John. He drew hi
chair uD beside Amos and the two fe]