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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, May 21, 1914, NOON EDITION, Image 18',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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By Harold Carter.
(Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
Bobby was lost. It is very hard to
be lost when you are only five years
old and have gone 'out-into the world
to find a father.
He had wandered away from the
little apartment uptown, and, having
found the street, had run on and on,
past big, friendly policemen, and hos
tile districts where bigger boys lay
'Well, Sir, What Can 1 Do for You?"
in wait for five-year-olds. Then he
had come intq a place of taxicabs and
street cars, and how he crossed that
he never knew. But finally he was in
a crowded street and and be hadn't
found a father yet.
He held the scrap of paper which
was to be a talisman in his hand. He
had taken that from mother's desk
when she was in the other roqni. He
knew that this would help him to find
a father such as he had always
Suddenly Bobby's legs gave out. He ,
was tired and bewildered by the rush
of traffic and the busy pedestrians,
who did not seem to have time to look
where they were going. Several times
he had been swept into doorways, and
once he had been knocked down, and
it required all his manliness not to
cry. If he had not been looking for
a father he might have let the tears
And they did come now. He sat
down upon the curb and rubbed his
eyes with two grimy little hands, and
still he could not rub the tears away.
"What's the matter?" asked a big
policeman, striding up to him. "Are
you lost, boy?"
Bobby handed him the piece of pa
per. The policeman looked at it and
"Mr. Swanscott!" he ejaculated.
"Saints alive. Is he your daddy?"
Bobby nodded dubiously, more be
cause he felt that it was the right
thing to do than because he under
stood. And the policeman picked him
up and led him across the street to a
big building that seemed to tower into
the skies, and spoke to the porterf
The porter took Bobby to the door
of a little room that was moving up
and up, with people standing in it
and pressing against the walls.
Upstairs John Swanscott was hold
ing a company meeting. The directors
were all assembled and ready to be
gin business. John Swanscott walked
restlessly about the room. His heart
was not in the company that day. He
was thinking of the girlish wife who
had left him five years before be
Well, that was ancient history now,
and he had repented his fault in sack
cloth and ashes ever since. And he
had tried to find her so many times.
But Hilda's pride had lent her power
to evade him, and he had learned
nothing. He did not know, for m
stauce, that he was the father of a