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title: 'The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, November 20, 1904, Image 11',
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DT WAS the Tuesday before Thanks-
"Tis goin' out ye are, Kitty?"
There was nothing in the weak
old voice to make Kitty start as she.
did. She hesitated in her task of pin
ning her rusty shawl around her thiti
"I was that same," she admitted
cheerfully. "'Tis a beautiful day en
tirely. The —the walk 'ud do me good,"
she supplemented hastily.
"Faith, no doubt of that. Te've been
kep' in the house pretty clost with that
long pneumony of mine. Will ye be
gone long, alanna?"
There was apprehension in the look
Mrs. Malone bent on the white head
stooping toward the little sheet-iron
stove. When she spoke it was in a
manner at once airy and reassuring.
"Sure, 'tis quite a step to market, Den
nis. I think I'll be goirT to the farthest
wan. They do be havin' things there
more raisonable-like. It's," she paused,
the thought of a sin to be confessed at
her Christmas "duty" flashing across
her mind, "it's —our Thanksgivin' din
ner I'm goin' to —get!" she concluded.
"I wouldn't be afther buyin' ex
thravagant, Kitty." counseled Dennis
Malone. He sat huddled forward in
the pitiful inertia of age and physical
lassitude. "The docther an' medicines
must have took a heap of our savin's.
I —wouldn't buy what might be called
luxuriant, so to spake."
"I won't, Dennis!" promised Kitty. N
She was tying her pain little bonnet
on her sleek old head. "You can thrust
me for that!" she added with what
seemed unnecessary fervor. "I —I
"It may happen," sne declared,
speaking hurriedly, as though the pos
sibility had just occurred to her, "that
I mayn't be back for a—for a rale good
bit, Dennis. 'Tis thinkln' lam of goin'
over to see Nora, if 'twould be safe to
lave you that long." Then, as she felt
liis eyes turn slowly in her direction
with a sort of questioning surprise, "I
—I'm afther hearin' Mary Ellen ain't
as well as she might be, an'—"
"Eh —Mary Ellen"!" His tone was
vibrant with anxiety. "Is Mary Ellen
"Not to mention," Mrs. Malone has
tened to assert. She was wishing she
had not chosen his favorite grandchild
to afflict. "Only a little—a weeny bit
quare-like." She picked up a basket
near, and edged toward the door. There
she paused, gripping the basket until
her knuckles showed white, a slow, dis
tressed flush staining the pale saffron
of her cheek. "So —you won't mind If
I don't get home for a couple of hours
—eh, Dennis?" She broke off. She
was swallowing hard. Dennis looked
up—met full the eager, penetrating in
tensity of her gaze. He forced a val
iant smile to his bloodless lips. His
eyes narrowed into an expression of
quizzical leniency. The unfailing cour
age of .his race rang in the kind old
" 'Tis fine I'll be goin' on, plaze God.
Do be steppin' along now, Kitty wom
an! Don't be afther givin' me airy a
thought. Sure, the strer/th is comin*
Tiack to me to bate anythin' ye ever
«1 reamed of. An' what with this illi
gant lunch —the bit o' bacon, an* the
cheese, an' the crackers—not to talk of
tlie tay on the stove ferninst me—why,
it's good enough for the president, Kit
ty. With the ould blanket on me
shouldthers. an* all an' all, it's like I'll
dthrop asleep after I've said my decade.
I wor.'t be lookin' for ye till 'tis past
noon. Now don't stand thriflin' woman,
dear. Gwan! But," his piping voice
followed her out of the door. "I wouldn't
be gettin' a—a luxuriant dinner, so to
Mrs. Malone, skurrying along one of
the poor streets that lie south of Van
Buren and east of Blue Island avenue,
almost fell over the tattered figure of
a boy who seemed to have sprung from
the ground at her very feet.
"Wisha, where are ye hurrying to.
LEAP YEAR PROPOSAL
FOR ROUE© AiEi 82
DETROIT, Mich., Nov. 19.—A forty
year-old Juliet and an eighty-year-old
Romeo are the talk of the neighbor
hood in the vicinity of Merrick avenue
and Twenty-fifth street. The -story la
that Juliet has been camping on the
aged Romeo's trail ever since their
meeting about a month ago," and that
she will have him or perish in the at
tempt. The Romeo is Henry Henning,
worth about J&.000, and at present
about to enter on his eighty-second
winter. The scales of time balance at
forty for Juliet.
"I don't know what Is the matter
with him," said Mrs. Theodore Hen
ning:, the aged man's daughter-in-law.
"He has always been fond of talking
to women, but he never feil in love
with any of them until now. I think
she wants his money, but my husband
is his guardian, and won't let her
get it. The old man had a good home
here, but he moved on Twenty-fourth
street because he says she doesn't like
to come here and he wants to be where
he can see her. I asked him why he
wanted to marry her and he said he
wanted some one to love him."
Mr. Henning was sitting alone in the
bare hallway of his Twenty-fourth
street house, and readily told his story.
When the Widow Proaposed
"I was sitting outside when this
lady came up to me," he said. "She
asked me about some vacant lots. I
told her what I knew. Then she asked
me: 'Are you a widower?" I said
•Yes.' and she said, "Well. I'm a widow.
Don't you think we could make a
match?' I told her I was an old man
and couldr.'t marry a young woman
like her, and she said it didn't matter
as long as she liked me. and asked me
to come and see her. I went. I asked
her how many children she had and
she said four, but two of them were
working arid two of them were little,
In the Dark
They say that cats can see at night.
No matter if it ian't light;
But that ain't nothin'. for I know
That sister Susie, when her beau
Is talking to her in the dark
"With no light but a tiny spark.
Can see at night aa well aa tliey
Because on« time I heard her say.
"Why, George, you didn't shave todayl"
. , ...- A ; Noble Boy -"
"When William Tell, with tragic air
Placed on the curly head '■-:
Of his small son the apple fair, ~
That dauntless youngster said: :-
Oh. papa, dear; so still 111 be •
That you will surely score; '■.'
But. papa, you must promise Me '
That I can have the core!" ■v^ggggg
—Cleveland' Plata Dealer.
1 THE MISSION OF KITTY M LONE
Mrs. Malone? Is It worse himself is?"
"No —no, Patsy Heffernan. 'T*S—
'tis goin' to my juty I am—"
"An' lavin' the church behind ye:".
he cried incredulously. "Father Flynn
ain't a-hcarin' on the river. I'm think
in'!" Patsy was a merciless inquisitor.
Mrs. Malone withered under his frank
doubt of her veracity.
"Patsy," she entreated, "you run to
the hottse — do now! I wouldn't incon
vayniance ye, but it's ye's the most ac
commodatfn* Ijy in the parish. If ye'd
but be waitin' around kind of dJsthrict
ed like to see If himself wants anythin'
afore I get back—"
Patsy's freckled hatchet face looked
out from its furze-bush of straight,
bleached hair with suddenly awakened
interest. "What'll ye give me if I do?"
"Glory be!" ejaculated Mrs. Malene.
She stood staring helplessly at the
shabby young Celtic Shyioek. who,
with his overgrown frame bent for
ward, his feet in the broken boots
turned toes inward, his hands thrust
in his pockets, and his ragged arms
akimbo, awaited her answer with
ravenous expectancy. "Why—Patsy,
bye—" ' She was fumbling at the.
waist of her gown. Suddenly she de
sisted. If she had money at the bank
—or anywhere else, for the matter of
that —would she be bent on her present
mission? Would she be tramping these
many weary blocks? "Glory be!" she
There really was nothing more to
say. Patsy's rapacious expression be
came merged in a bored frown. "Mebbe
it's goin' to the the-ayter ye are. Hope
ye won't be late." He cast a sharp
glance at the basket. Involuntarily
Mrs. Malone jerked it behind her back,
but it was too big to escape notice.
"I won't kape ye any longer romancin',
ma'am!" With which Parthian shot
young Mr. Heffernan took himself
Trembling, little Mrs. Malone looked
after him. "Musba now, the gossoon
hasn't got the heart of a herrin'! An'
the way he looked at the basket.
Wethen now, I wondther did he suspi
cion anythin'?" She bent her spare
little body against the rancorous east
wir-d and hastened on. "Sure, if I cud
make up me mind to go to Thomas —
but he hasn't only all his own to kape,
but his wife's ould aunt as well. Then
there's Nora. But she don't know the
last cent's gone, an' it would scald the
heart of her to think of us nadln' —she's
that tindther, the crathur! Malachi —
he'd be free with his money—if he had
enny. But 'twas never a dime he cud
hould in his pocket no mather how
much he arn't. An* Daylla, that's
cook on the North side —" She walked
less rapidly. Her head drooped medi
tatively. Was it possible she might let
Delia know of their straits?
No, it would never do to appeal to
Delia. If only Rody were at home!
Rody, the gay, loving, hard-working
young fellow who would never let her
or his father suffer. But he had gone
oft to the Philippines this many a
month back. Was he alive or dead?
Sure, 'twas a sad world it was! "Arrah,
'tis nothin' of the sort!* she told her
self with sudden energy. "Isn't it
ashamed of yerself ye are to be pa
radin' along like a hin on a rainy day
—now runnin' a bit an' then sthoppin'
entirely? Go on wid ye!" she adjured
herself sternly. "Go—" She stopped
short as a massive form loomed up be
fore her—as a broad, roseate counte
nance beamed down upon her.
"Mrs.—Mrs. Comisky!" she murmur
ed. She had long known Mrs. Comisky
for "a daclnt woman." They both be
longed to the Married Ladies' sodality.
They had been neighbors when the Ma
lones lived in a brick house. Their
children had gone to the same paro
" "Tig me," corroborated Mrs. Comis
ky. She wore a cloth skirt and a coat
of electric seal plush. From a fur "col
larette a cataract of bushy heads and
tails* dangled over her capacious bo
som. On her hat a long-beaked green
bird perched in a grove of aspiring, lf(
ligid ostrich feathers. The vigorous
han-l rhe extended to Mrs. Malone was
gorgeously draped in a glove of purple
kid. " 'Tis a month o* Sundays since I
let eves en you," she went on. "I heard
Dennis was took rale bad some weeks
back. Eetter. is he? That's good.
You're not lookln 1 very well yourself.
I've been down to visit my niece, Ma-
and I told her it didn't matter about
the little ones.
"Then I went away into the country,
and when I came back she came up to
see me, and told me that her other girl
was going to live at home. I asked
her how much she wanted from me.
and she said $10 a week. I told her
that was too much, and she said sh«
wouldn't want that all the time. Then
she asked me If I would marry her,
and I said I didn't know. She was
anxious, though, and said we .would
get married a week from Thursday.
Decided It Wat Too Expensive
"I figured It up, and found that if I
had to pay her $10 a week and buy
her clothes and take care of the chil
dren besides myself that I would hare
to go to the poorhouse in a couple of
years. So I wrote her a letter and told
her to come and see me. When so*
comes I am going to tell her that I
can't marry her because she wants too
much. But she is nice woman and
would be good to me."
The Juliet was highly indignant
when asked about the affair.
"Did you ever ask Mr. Henning t©
marry your* she was asked.
"Me? Well. I guess not. No man
lives that can say I asked him to mar
ry me. Huh! Well, I should think
"What do you think of Mr. Hen
'That man has the tlntmt mind I
ever saw in a man that old." she said,
and further questioning as to her de
signs on him were met with profes
sions of ignorance as to hie affairs or
replies that the matter vras her private
Henning's son suspected the couple
were going to Windsor to get married,
but the son wrote Windsor authorities
warning them not to permit it, and
In that way the matter became public
'■••■,t_ a rough calculation the > population
of th« ; world is ■ more than . 1.0dd.000,000
souls. </-.-.;•' '_-. -i-.j-.? 4--.-',.-i}>.V(i. iv;,i7;<i | i
.-r These i speak some 3.0*4 languages, and
are worshipers of more than 1.100. re
ligions. •-"■ -. ~VI- -V "' ■ - —■■-." ••;'
The average length of life- la S3 l-S
years. ■- • - ■•■,-,. -^.. <v*- r' -—
• • One-fourth of I mankind die : before tb«
seventh,', and . one-half * before Una -' seven
teenth year. o - -.- ;*---...
- Only one-sixth live beyond the age !of
StXtj*. r-.i -.' *. ;y - . --. *T£3*rOH*sg«3^*ay&*s
Thirty-three million die annually r- M.
--000 daily, 4,139 every hour/ M : every' mis
nute. . :.-,"'■■ c . - .'■■>• ..-.:,■■''-.--^I,-.' ■-■•
:,• While one -fourth are capable of bearing
arms, only one in a thousand la natural
ly inclined to the profession.-- Kan«M
THE ST. PAUL GLOBE. SUNDAY. NOVEMBER 20, lUM
'^A^Man's Face ] Bent' Over Her«-A Brave Good ■ Face. .Brown ■■ and Rugged
ria. 'Tis twins—an" the christenin* Is
to be fit for a Roosian. But where
might you be goin', Mrs. Matene?
Yov'rc not walkin' down town?"
"I—l was goin' to —to do some shop
pin" !'• faltered Kitty Malone.
Now Mrs. Comisky, for all her pon
derosity and apparent obtuseness."
( mid ree through a stone wall as well
as anyone. This was rtot the first time
r-he had known a neighbor to slip tim
orously toward the city, carrying an
empty bi'skei But she had not dream
el things h&«1 come to such a pass with
the once "fcity*' Malones.
"An awful nuisance the shoppln' one
mast be coin'," she remarked careless
ly. She was looking over Kitty's head
at some object which interested her.
'I spent every last dollar Tim gave m*
except 5d cents. I'm goin' to stop into
his saloon on me way home. 'Tis
lucky I met with ye. If 'tis only tha
half dollar I got left. This long time
I've beea sayin' to Tim I must pay yon
for that hin. 'Tis on me conscience
when I go to confession the first
Thursday of every month." Her hearty
v.ugh sounded pleasantly. "So here
'tis—an" wishln' It was five dollars I
ujaed ytu —I do now!"
what hin?" whispered Kitty
"Och, hear the woman now!" Mrs.
Comisky was appealing to a striped
barber's pole near by. "The black
wan, to be sure! The wan you let me
have to make broth for Leo when you
lived in the brick house. 'Tis like you
to be forgettin' it!" She thrust the
coin into Kitty's cold little claws of
hands. "Take a car, do, now! You'll
find the shop most illegant. Good
afternoon to you. ma'am!" Then Mr«.
Comisky's gown was flopping after her
in a way she considered decidedly styl
ish, and Kitty Malone was shaking her
head over the money in a dazed at
tempt to recall the debt.
"Glory be to God! What hin? I
don't mind lettin' her have enny black
wan—no. nor a white wan. But she
never looked at the basket. Sure now,
I'll stop stewing meself about it! 'Twas
the saints sent it— Glory be —"
She broke off in sudden horror, the
reverential rapture with which she had
LADY CURZON AND HER TWO DAUGHTERS
I ■ »V^Sl uJvi ft tI ■■
»j^^y ait m Jmßtm jibbM
825& ****H Mm iM *JB
The UMfe Girls Are the ttoo. CyntM* mm* the H«a. Mvy Carzoa
accepted the miracle worked in her
behalf suddenly blotted out. "It
were never the saints—never! What
•od they have to do vith a woman
who tould all the black lies I did this
day? Three to Dinny!" She checked
them off on her fingers. "Wan to
Patsy* Heffernan, an" one to Mrs. Com
isky. Oh, wirrasthrue! What kind of
a pinnance won't Father Flynn be
afther layin' on me! Five decades,
maybe—wan for aich—or the stations
It might be! Me poor sowl!"
Never loomed bastille before a pris
oner ag frowned the grim gray wall
or the building wherein Is located the
county agent's office before the shrink
ing gaze of Kitty Malone. Never did
feet more reluctant creep up the dirty
stone steps into the dreary, many
angled room, with Its whitewashed
walls based by a deep band of slate
colored paint, its two slate-colored
benches, its pillars of the same dismal
hue. Never did heart sink sodden in
a woman's breast as sank hers when,
in obedience to a motion from the po
liceman on duty, to whom she had
whispered her street and number, she
crept to the foot of one of the waiting
lines of applicants. There were three
of the*e lines of depressed, patient
people—men, women and children. Re
stricting and dividing each line were
rails of the universal dingy shade that
emphasized the melancholy atmosphere
of the place.
"Name?" asked the voice in a strong
She found herself looking up at a
thin, middle-aged man, 1 with penetrat
ing eyes, a brownish mustache and an
expression of keen intelligence. Her
name! She cast a terrifled look
around. The applicants to the rear
were paying no attention to her. The
greater number carried yellow curds,
more or less crumpled and dirty. The
man behind the window spoke again.
"Catherine," she answered huskily—
"Ever received aid from the county
"No —oh, no, sir!"
-Got help from—" He rattled off
the names of half a dozen philan
thropic and benevolent societies.
"Married—widow—single—deserted ? "
"Married this forty-nine ytar to
"How many children? Sex—married
"Seveu—five livin' here^-two abov?,
sir. Three married, that has all they
c*b do to care for their own. Wan
workin' to kape herself. Wan in the
Would the questions never cease? A
queer blackness came in fragmentary
clouds before her. She had eaten no
breakfast. There had been only enough
♦o leave for Dennis. Involuntarily she
put out her hand—clutched at the
ledge to steady herself. Suppose she
were taken sick here and It was put
in the paper! l« would kill Demrts. It
would break Nora* heart. Delia could
never hold up her heed again! She
must keep her dreadful secret! Still
questions—questions! She answered
them as best she could. Her age, her
husband's, their nationality, the cause
of their distress.
"That'B all." The man looked up
from his writing;. "A visitor will call
to investigate. That's all now."
Then Kitty found herself outside the
wooden paling. A stream of people
were surging across the room to an
other window on the opposite side—a
window behind which barrels and
boxes, sacks and bundles, all contain
in* necessaries of life, rose In a
mighty pile straight up to the ceiling.
The portly policeman took pity on her
"You'll be around tomorrow," he as
sured her cheerfully. "Visitor will get
to your place today. He'll give you a
ticket. Come in tomorrow."
She did not know how she got out on
Clinton street. She was buffeting her
way back, her empty basket dangling
on her arm, and in her heart deep dis
appointment—a bitter despair. She did
not know that, had she stated how Im
mediate was their necessity for relief
she need not have waited for help until
after the formal investigation. Now
her only wild desire was to get back
before the visitor arrived—to make
sure Dennis would not grasp the Im
port of that humiliating visitation.
Surely, surely folks were prosperous
this year; Surely this was to be a
grand Thanksgiving"! Sne could not
remember ever having 1 dodged so many
dangling turkeys before the doors of
the butcher shops. She had walked
the whole way back—she was near
their poor dwelling before she remem
bered that tightly clenched in her hand
she heia the 59 cents Mrs. Comisky had
given her for the black hen of elusive
"Glory be!" she cried, "an' me to be
eomplsinhv: Me —that's got a handful
o' silver." But suddenly she knit her
brows craftily—wanted more slowly.
It was with much deliberation that she
ma<ie some purchases. Meat wad one.
She knew that except to the families
of the old soldiers no meal was fur
nishett to the poor by the county. She
took -with her only two ounces of tea
•nd a loaf of bread. She would come
for the rest, she said, after dark. It
would not do to have 40 cents' worth
of .food in the house when the man sent
to investigate should call. The 19 cents
wouW permit her to ride on the mor
row. She gripped it hard as she has
tened out of the store, her precious
packages under her arm. She almost
brushed against a young woman who
was coming toward her.
"Mary Alice Ryan!" she cried, "an"
how is Larry?"
A pale and woebegone face, framed
in a black shawl which was held under
the chin by a bony hand, looked down
"Bad. Mrs. Malone. He scream*
dreadful with the pain. The doctor
says the kind of hip disease he has
can't be cured. It's hard—for a boy
that's been as strong as any in the
parish. If he had things to play with
like rich boys—" The mother's voice
"An'—ain't her- The dime was
burning Kitty Malone's palm.
"Some empty spools—a tin can—tho
cover of a picture book. That's all."
It was just then that a whistle rent
the air—just then that a man went by.
"Gimme a red wan!" cried Mrs. Ma
lone. "You tie that to Larry's wrist,
an' let him fly it. Wisha. woman,
don't ye be for bawlin'! What's the
nickels for. anyways, if the childhev
ain't to get the good of 'em! A bit of
a b'lloon, indade!" And Kitty scurried
oft* with a gesture of magnificent scorn
for that which the master called
"trash." She found the fire out and
Dennis asleep. He had managed to
crawl over to the bed. He was still,
sleeping when the man seat from the
county agent's made his appearance.
He looked sharply around the bare, or-
Qerly room, opened drawers and bins,
scrutinized the small black heap in the
coal box. asked a lot more questions,
all of which Kitty insisted on answer
ing outside the little ramshackle house
lest "himself should hear, and finally
gave Kitty a yellow ticket which she
was to present for 'single rations."
It Is the first step thaTcounts. Kitty
found her second deception less diffi
cult than her first. She. had stayed
with Xora the previous day. She had
not gone to martcet. Yes. Mary Ellen
was quite recovered. And now sure
she must be off if they were to have
a bite of Thanksgiving dinner at all,
"Te -won't be erthravagant, Kitty?"
he again implored. "We can't have
over much left In the bank. A bit o'
"'Twas meaelf was thinkin' a bit o*
bacon *ud be rale tasty!" she agreed
eagerly. "Turkey's that ondigestlble!"
" 'Tis now. An* it's never meself cud
get to likin' them sour cranberries. A
biled potaty an a bit o' cabbage—"
"Sure, what more cud the Prince o'
Wales ask?" demanded Kitty Malone.
That day she duly presented her yel
low ticket at the window marked
"Southwest." She, too. received her
coai check, and the "single rations"
which were her due. Could she carry
them all home? The flour was un
wieldy. She had made a public de
mand—she had asked for and received
charity for the first time in all her
cheerful, uncomplaining, hard-working,
heroic old life. And the knowledge
Btung her. Her thin cheek was crim
son. Her faded eyes had a strange
glitter. She had begged—she! And
she knew if it were to save Dennis
from suffering she would do it again.
What would her children say if they
knew! Thomas, who was mail carrier;
Nora of the scant possessions and ten-
A HARD LUCK STORY
KANSAS CITY, Mo., Nov. Id.—After
three weeks of married life with
George Green, her fourth hus
band, Mrs. Augusta Green, owner of a
boarding house at 27 North Sixth street,
Kansas City, Kan., had him arrested
because she said he wouldn't work
since their marriage and earn enough
money with which to pay his board bill.
Green is twenty-three and his wife
is forty-seven years old. Their trou
bles began soon after the marriage,
when Mrs. Green found a love letter
which another woman had written to
her husbar-d. It so ruffled her feelings
that she abruptly ended the honey
moon by having her husband arrested.
He was arraigned in police court in
that city this morning en the charge of
vagrancy. Bhe employed attorneys to
prosecute him. and she appeared as the
prosecuting witness. Green was dis
charged. Police Judge Trembly holding
that a man should be allowed at least
a month for a honeymoon, and the. tes
timony showed that Green and the
woman had only bean married three
Green was a member of the famous
Twentieth Kansas regiment during the
Spanish-American war. For three years
he had been employed at the Phil R.
Toll box factory in Armourdale, and
the manager and timekeeper testified
that he is a hardworking, honest young
man. He has been boarding with Mrs.
Green since Jane 11, soon after which,
she testified, their courtship~began. She
said he purchased the weddiiig clothes
for both, paid for the marriage license,
and all th« bills incurred during the
celebration of the marriage. She said
that after their marriage Green stayed
■> Dorfng a'^ church . convention in :one•' of
our large • cities, ail lady.' weD «t known as.'
one •*, of - the t, prominent ; hostesses i of i the
land ' was entertaining at her home a
number vof - ministers, delegates to v th«:
convention. ' .The ■; second evening, being I
very tired., she "proposed" having - -two j
boars to f herself •while - her ,; guests f were !
attending ' the i religious ;• meeting announc- • i
•d.";- 1 One ; delegate. Iwwever. insisted :< on
[ keeping ' her corapahr. They sat - for a:
time "before the library -fire,, the -minister:
[ talking an In a ■ gentle \ stream, the * lady
growing more and more, sleepy. A cricket
wax singing on the hearth, and : present
>lf a hymn * from: the neighboring i church,
reached '.their ears. The .clergyman.
Slowly : rocking. \ slowly i fitting the tips' of
ais fingers to one another commented:
"H«w sweet th« songs of Zioo sound unon
■ f ■-:■ th« evening f »ter^^'^i 1 .. rv ;«-, •
' Bis hostess, : almost ? asleep, = was stttt
■--. KATE; HI. CLEARY
der heart; Deiia, who was a credit to
the- family whtn she catne to see them,
wearing her best clothes: Malachi, who
would give if he had it—to any one. for
the matter of that: and Rody—the baby
of the family, "the best of the bunch!"
as Derinis put it. She—their mother —
had disgraced them all! A rush of tears
"Look out!' "Get out of there!"
"HI!" "You'll be—" "There—she's
She was crossing the street when the
shrtll Babel of cries assailed her. Star
tled, confused, she stood still. The de
lay was fatal. The next instant the
speeding street car had caught the
skirt of her gown. She fell—rolled over
—over. A dense crowd gathered In
stantly. As angry shout went up.
Kitty was helped to her feet^, Rice,
soap, flour, ee-ffee—all that she had
striven so hard to procure lay scat
tered on the half-frozen ground. But
Kitty, bruised, shocked, quivering with
nervous fright, -was not seriously hurt.
"Don't say anythin" to the man; gen
tlemen!" she pleaded. "'Twas me own
fault. I do get romancin' when I'm
alone. I wasn't lookin' out when I
ought! 'Twas plannin* how I'd stuff
the turkey for Thanksgivin' I was when
I got in the way. Sure," as some one
expressed regret for her loss "what's
the vally of a few thrifles like that
She would not give her name and ad
dresa. She permitted herself, however,
to be helped on the car she mentioned.
She rode home in penniless, coffeeless.
beanless state. And all the time, quite
unconsciously, she gripped the bit of
yellow pasteboard in her fingers.
The sight of a crowd gathered before
her little shanty sent her reeling on
w»ard with a cry—faint, ineffective,
Dennis! Something had happened to
Dennis! Dennis had learned of her de
ception and the truth had killed him!
It was Patsy Heffernan who re
assured her—Patsy capering around
and yelling like an Indian. "There's a
sojer—a sojer—a rale sojer in there!"
A path was made for the tottering
old figure. She got to the door. It was
opened. The blackness which had de
scended the day previous again came
before her. This time it was lit by
dancing flecks of flame. She staggered
"Mother!" The word sounded from
a vast distance. "She's coming to—
mother!" Strong arms were around
her. A man's face bent over her —a
brave, good face, brown and rugged,
with straight mouth, square chin and
eyes full of loving solicitude.
"I didn't think my surprising you
would give you such a turn, mother!
I was wounded a while back. I got
leave with some others. I wanted to
be with you and father for Thanks
giving. I got most of my back pay
saved. Here, drink this wine Tim
Comisky sent over. Mrs. Comisky is
cooking supper. She come in with a
basket Just before I got here. I hud
Mary Alice Ryan buy our Thanksgiv
ing dinner. I told her to get the like
for Larry and herself while she was
about It. What—what are you look
Their eyes met. " 'T*ts yourself is a
skeleton, mother," he said. "We've got
to get you good and hearty again." He
had looked away. He kept his face
turned from her. She put her arm
around his neck—drew his head Aenjtn
to her breast.
"Rody. you—you know!"
"Oh, mother!" He could get no
further. He crushed a bit of card
board in her hand. "Mother, if—if I
" 'Tia your mother's gettln' gay,
Rody!" cried Dennis. "Visitin' yester
day! Gallarantin' again today!" He
cackled joyously. f<l was thinkin' she'd
use all our money on car fare. Then,
mebbe," laughing again at his own
joke, "we might have to go to the
county for help—Kitty an' me!"
"No fear of that," Rody laughed back
at htm. He was holding in his fond
and faithful grasp the nervous hands
which held torn scraps of yellow pa
per. "No fear —eh, mother?"
"No—glory be to God!" cried Kitty
Malo«e. "Glory, an—"
Her soldier son bowed his head.
"Thanksgiving!" he said.
around the house for three weeks with
his wedding clothes on and refused to
go to work.
Green told a different story. He said
his wife and a man boarding at her
home entered into a conspiracy to
bring about the marriage. He said he
never had any intention of marrying
a woman so much older than himself.
V. Green testified ; that the man ; who
negotiated" the marriage called :to : see
him'while at work at the .Toll box fac
;'tory one ■ morning. \ He was s induced .to
quit work \ for the day and . the ■ two
■ < visited'"several saloons ■ and had : many
drinks, .hi 3 wife furnishing the money.
"After I had become;intoxicated I did
not know what ;,I~ was doing," said
Green. ■■■ "I - was '„ taken ;to r the s - house,
where• Mr*. Green gave.me $5, which
she said was to purchase the \ marriage i
license. The • man : who was promoting
the marriag; .and I went Ito several so
loons and , spent ' part "of/, the;: $3. •- He
then took 'me before the probate. Judge
and | purchasedi a" marriage ,- license i for
me. I gave my age as 26 and her age
as ; 35. We then returned to her. house,
and after taking a few l more drinks we
went to l the" home of ' the =■ Rev. J. C.
Lynn, pastor of a Presbyterian church,
and : were '. married- T:" I-, did» not : > realize
what I had done until the next morn
ing. She said she did not want me to
work, as she had some business she
wanted ; me: to * attend . to, : and" told; m«
'that-; if 1 did not work for a year it
would be right with her, as she had
plenty \ of } money,? :': * >v ■v'^^v^<rr,i
h* Mrs. • Green said that; Green ■ proposed
to H her. : • She T said \ her ' first t. husband,
with whom t.he lived for teen years,
died; the second husband : left ' her after t
one , year ; and ' six \ months' married > life,
and the third husband i left her after
only ," six months of .married \ life. • She ■
says she will"; ask for a divorce.- ■ ;
responsive.- She fancied "he : was referring; '?.'
". to - the V cricket. "Yes." ■ she • replied.- "Tm y',.
told', they do -lO with ■, their ' bind : legs."— .V
Harper's 1 Weekly. .' ■-/.: - '-'f'^.i '^:x*&gß&m
I - -7 The Diplomatic Corp*
Don't you ? dare to raise ft -protest,-- don't •
''■^- c'en 'talk; the t matter o'er. c,*'
II yon ever get run over by the Diplomat!©
They may ; speed their automobiles past :
' ■■■■:>-! the limit if they wfQ. ■■■■ -■ ■: .
\lf you '' get | pwt out »of " action, why. I you >
S«(BHsJHiply must ; sit; Btrtl.*< J <*?^; J-Tfti'-fe?!^S
Doß*t expect a % line ior damage, ~ don't ■ ex
.-r^..-; s pect 3 regrets galore ■-X>ll«<tt^i<Pß*V-<^£y^
If you ever get run over by the Diplomat- ..rf
-•■-■• -.r. sic ? Corps; i" >?■£?"?' j-'--:"■: ■"--' ■ 'T>»* W*&£& ■'
If. they run-yon down and smash yoc, you
must flnd a way to rise. ,
And to:-save your country trouble, you *
uiust then apoiogize.