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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, October 29, 1912, Image 19',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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"Well, I'll help you put on one
"What is it?" inquired Mer
"I don't propose to go into ex
planations, but your daughter,
Ethel, ahd young Harry Lane
rhave been going a good deal to
gether." ' "Yes," -nodded Mercer, "what
"Just this. Some people say
they are engaged and that they
correspond. You ought to know
that thes daughter of a man as
poor as you are is no match for
the son of the richest man in the
district. Break it up. Keep Ethel
away at school, drift her out of
this silly idea," and I'll loan you
It was Mercer who arose to his
feet now. He did so with a look
on his face that made his visitor!
cringe and wince.
"We're not the Lane sort, eh?"
he said, his voice husky with
emotion. "And I suppose you
think you are. I understand you
only too well, Henry Brown.
You have plans for your own
daughter in that direction, is that
it? And you .ask me to sell my
child's happiness. No! I would
as soon interfere between two
angels: Go your way, I want
nothing more to do witjj you."
Gentle Mrs. Mercer, coming
into the room a few minutes later,
found her husband with .bowed
head looking thoughtfully into
"Will Mr. Brown let you have
t'te money, husband?' she in
effort to look
"No. I demeaned myself ask
ing for ft."
"I am so sorry. Dear! Deaf)!
Why does not Uncle Silas at
least answer my letter. I wrote
him how much we needed help.
He has always sent sister and me
a hundred dollars at Christmas',
and I "hoped my
Mercer, witn an
cheerful. "We'll get alpng some
Uncle Silas was quite an insti
tution with his two nieces, Mrs.,
Brown and "Mrs. Mercer: They
had never seen him, and he had
forbidden all his kin to visit him.
He was reputed wealthwbut an
erratic hermit .He hap -not re
plied to the -letter, and Mercer
felt pretty well discpuraged as he
went out into the afd to close
up the stable.
"Hellci!" he exclaimed, as he
came across a huddled figure sit
ting hear the corn crib. "What's
the trouble, stranger?"
"I was wondering if you'd give
me a bite" to eat and a bed in your
hay loft," replied the stranger, a
bent, decripit lobkfng old man.
"I applied at the next farm house.
They set the dog on me."
That's them," muttered Mer
cery a trifle bitterly. "Well,
stranger, the owner of that farm
is rich and I am poor, but I never
yet turned a homeless., person
from my door, and I shan't begin
now. Ydu wait here a minute."
The kind hearted farmer went
into the. house, told his wife to
fix up a bedintheattic, and went
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