The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 22, 1903, Page 13

THY SUNDAY OCALL 18 BY not belong to If T have to walt to hire a plumber who was to f organized labor to ro such 1s the ext the feminine logic, gh wages as the efring ff or assassinfted by heed to the theory s husband, to e man’s habits, he e was simply cele- an unholy man- she murmured; “most dead in some alleyway, They do such h a gloomy soul she Thanksgiving. nd 1 was so be e in time to the Plumbers’ t used to be alled letters for bids by as just slipping kward over that rooms down stairs, laundry and the hasty jour- kitchen doors. Hadn't door upstairs? had seen that the door fast and she thought the door upstairs. feel certain enough about ar that it happened? The rer, in the sitting room e safety of the teatable She was sure see you,” sald Miss Merryweather. All the while she was hastily donning a wrap- per and slippers. Then she turned on the lights. The burglar stood directly under the blaze. He did not look like a burglar There was nothing much in his pale face except the look of recent sickness and hopelessness. His clothes were like any workman's, a pair of blue, soijgd overalls with something llke a bib ffont and a ched, checked shirt. His hat (it was a and not the cap in which artists, for reasons best known to themse delight to depict the burglar) was a very bat- tered, soft felt, and it was not pulled down over his black brows; it was pushed back from dark brown locks. He looked like a workman out of a job! His hands, one of which held a pistol, were calloused and stained—a workman's hands. When Miss Merryweather loomed upon him—one may say darted, since that was the effect of the springing of the light upon her image—he lifted his empty hand to his bat. “I don't want to disturb you, ma'am,” he repeated, “but I've got to have some money."” “Why?" sald Miss Merryweather. She was quite at her ease and had taken a rocking chalr. “Why?” the man echoed bitterly. “Be- cause I prefer to steal to see my wife dying for want of things done for her, and my children without shoes to their feet, and never a bite among us all this day, by—I beg your pardon, lady; I was- o't meaning to swear, but I'm wore out!” “Haven't you had anything to eat to- day?’ eald Miss Merryweather. He shook his head. A stiff lock of brown hair which stood up on the top of his head waggled at the motion. It gave him a grotesque look. He certainly was frightfully thin. ‘Humph!” sald Miss Merryweather. ou eit down in that rocking chair and stay there until I come up again. Don't you burgle any until I come back; then we'll see what we can do.” A “You ain't going to telephone to the police to nab me?” Miss Merryweather waved her hand to- ward the wall at a telephone. “It isn't customary in houses of people who are not millionaires to have two tele- phones,” sald she. “I am going to bring you something to eat.” “I won't touch a thing, lady,” the burglar; “I've been druv’ truly have.” ves, promised to this, I while her candle flitted from pantry to sideboard. Boards creaked under her tread as they never creaked in the day- time, every door she touched sent up a long shriek of remonstrance. But Diogenes slept calmly in the laun- dry. Miss Merryweather shook her head. She carried a revolver in her hand, which she laid on the tray. ‘‘He seems like a decent sort of submerged unfortunate,” thus ran her meditations while she pro- visioned the tray—“but he may be wicked and run after me downstairs. If he does, Di and the gun will have to hurt him.” She thought of waking the sleeping dog and taking him upstairs; but the peril to the china of Diogenes’ clumsy bulk seemed so much greater to her intrepid soul than any personal danger from the mild-mannered burglar that she dismissed the suggestion as soon as it appeared. ‘When she entered her sitting-room again and saw how starved and tired her burg- lar looked she was glad of her decision. He was leaning back in his chalr, his pistol still in one limp hand, his head lald back, showing his miserably thin neck, and the white glare full on the haggard pallor of his face. His eye brightened at the sight of the tray. Miss Merryweather, making no com- ment, lighted the lamp under the silver chafing dish, and as it burned she but- tered the slices of bread and placed beef between them. “I am afraid the beef is a little under- done for your taste,” observed she, kindly, “ and I hope you don’t care for mustard, for I forgot it, but I've put on salt and pepper, and they were the best-done pleces 1 could.find. The soup will be warm in a minute. Now you drink this glass of wine.” The man drank it, keeping his eyes on her. Then he laid the pistol on the table. I ain't going to use it,” he said. “Much better not,” returned Miss Mer- ryweather. ‘‘The truth is, I have long haa a curiosity to see a burglar, and I rather have planned things that way; but I did- n't expect he would be so decent as you seem. How do you like that wine? It's old Jacques port."” The burglar looked rather bewildered, but answered that it was the best wine he had ever tasted. He added ingenuous- ly that he had “not tasted much wine.” ““You are not at all like a professional burglar,” remarked the lady, who had now come, to ladling out the steaming “Oh, if you were a plumber it have come natural to you to rob The burglar acknowledged the sally by must a faint smile. “We ain't so bad as they make us out. Well, hard times came and work fell off, and the union wouldn't let us work below wages, so I left the unfon—fact is, 1 couldn't keep up my dues. “Do you mean to tell me,” cried Miss Merryweather, springing from her chair in strong agitativi—" uo you mean to tell me you are not a union man? Don’t think of burgling me. 1 can give you a great deal better job, and I wiil advance you money on it, too. This house is oniy about half plumbed: if you will take hold and get this plumbing done by 6 o'clock to-morrow. I'll pay you well And you shall have two men to help you who are- n't p.umbers, but have some sense, and a bhoy to rup to the shop to get the tools. Are you a good plumber?’ “Yes'm, 1 was; I'm a little out of prac- tice. But I guess I can satisfy you. I'll try bard. You see, they dign't take all the men back, ma'am, when the strike ended. I heard of a job in Chicago, and I got it sure enough; but it only lasted a little whilee. And when I wrote to the new factory they were starting here, the glu- cose works, and I got a job, but the first week I come down with typhold fever. I worked with the fever on me, and I did take whisky to kinder hold me up, for I ‘was wild to think of losing my job; but I wasn't drunk, though somebody sald so. S0 1 lost it and another feller got it—well, I guess he needed it bad, too. But that's how it was. “I went home and was sick awful bad for six weeks, and when I got up again there was nothing I could get; and the baby come just then. God forgive it! and 1 guess he knowed he was none too wel- come, for he’s been hollerin’ ever since. Doctor says he needs some kinder food, nestling food, or some sich name, and I wanted to git it, for I someway don’t Jest want him to dle, if he is mean! Then I wanted to get my woman things; she's an awful nice woman, I'll say that, and about all we've got she's earned washing. I've been out a week, walking about a hundred miles, I guess, begging for a job everywhere I heard jobs were to be had; but you see we were strangers, and there ain't enough work to 80 round 'mong the old men. “To-day, as I went back from the shoe an inch of room for me and my family on this earth. We'd pawned every last thing we could pawn, and there we was a-starv- ing But, goodness gracious exclaimed Miss Merryweather, who had with diffi- culty refrained from interrupting him be- fore; “why didn’t you go to the Assoclated Charities or to the Industrial Aid?” ain't used to being poor; we didn't know about them places Lady, I tell you, it ain't the pov- erty poor that gits squeezed the hardest when there's hard times; bless you, no! They're used to leanin’ on other folks, and they just lop over a leetle heavier. But it's the decent folks that never knew the way to the poor oversseer's office be- fore, or even to the pawnshop, that catch it. They suffer and don’t holler about it.” P “You sece, lady, we “I see,” said Miss Merryweather; on! “There ain’t much more,"” said the man, very neatly folding the napkin. “I told my wife I had got a job and I would have the money for a turkey to-morrow; not to fret, I'd git some advanced. I went stralght out, meaning to enter somebody’s house and git enough to buy a Thanks- giving dinner. I prowled about for a long time, first deciding on one house and then on another. By and by I saw all the folks in your kitchen going out, and the light upstairs, and says I, ‘That lady is all alone by herself, and I can git some money easy.’ So I come.” “But how did you get in? The windows are barred down stairs.” “Yes'm; they look like good winders; but I come in by the door—the kitchen door. I reasoned like the girls would have some place where they hid the kitchen key, and I could hunt it up. Most like it would be under the door mat. That's ‘where It was, too.” “They shall have a latch-key, every one of them; of course you got in. But didn’t you wake the dog?”’ “No, ma'am; he jest slept like the dead. Them big dogs is jest lilke men about sleeping, they sleep so sound.” “Bit when you came up the stairs what aid you do about the mat at the foot of the stairs? The lights ought to have sprung up and the bells rung the Instant your foot touched the mat!” “Why, you see, lady,” sald the burglar, apologetically—he seemed to fear lest she should be hurt by the fallure of her care- fully planned burglar trap—‘“you .see, I naturally struck a match now and then to my way, and when 1 come on that common mat In that beautiful hall with the handsome rugs about, I knowed it to be a burglar mat, so I jest stepped over it. I've no doubt all the t g8s would have happened if I had stepped on it right.” plain “I don’ d Mis: omily; ybe the plumbe of order. ®ut come here; chest."” She pelnted to the nuns’ chest against the wal’, and the burglar obediently start- ed 69 0 do her bidding. An inner chest ron was disclo having two pro- »~ting handles. tne sed, cover,” commanded Miss Mer- A smile of grim expectation parted her firm lips; now approacked her triumph The burglars lald his hands on the knobs and pensively nodded his head, screwing up his mouth like a man recogiizing a familiar flavor. ,” sald he; “galvanic battery, ain't it? Kinder prickly!" “I'll weaken the current,” sald Miss *n W MERRYWEATH- she dog kindly he would / f ving begin ws that tremendous \/1 e e of brush which, with one swecp, might hurl e o — el | her idols into irredeemable, smashing, § i £0. Robbins,” she crashing ruin! . it 3 IR S and you and Sternness was the only chance! “Down, = RIS e g he cook), “and charge, D" she commanded. “Bad dog! R Banty Sy . s “may Down! - 2 = i 2o, st 3 A particularly mild voice answered her: D O N . S It win’t a dog, miss: it's a man!” = ma—_) ‘A man?’ repeated Miss Merryweather. IS u alone, Miss Elinor. w R i Lo = 1, knowing Miss Of course it was not well; but Miss down. I'r sorr e 3 hot tn o3k her Merryweather just then did not think of % 8 ‘ ‘ 8 J nicer meaing of words. < " ay there Yes, ma'am,” the voice repeated: 2 e e 4 " be alarmed; I'm a man—a bun@lar! i g A ed Miss Merry- Miss Merryweather showed no signs of SN 3 SRR 0 e nshaken calm—whatever ajarm. In the first piace, she had a fear- SUSi 36 Fptannge: hew bt e 2N never was charged to less soul: in the second place, the voice O SNRE AL Shiun syes g v ck all the doors and was so mild, so aimost apologetic, that it i mey aroused her sense of humor. ttery w “I don’t know but t you are less pleasa of a ance than the dog would be, said she. “You stay right where you are, knew w her tress used and I turn on the electric lights. ot be vain: Don’t move or you'll hit something!" g itk ne A ma’'am,” sald the burglar; walk » a t Sashional & glis er and let me giv you that b get you off before the ts Miss Merryweather had v . sensations of a burglar in her own h 1 wels of Miss s were wa tow ed by t who ve engaged b s to work a night, s ne to-morrow 4 t extra toc w R L3 a s thank you, ma'am, B burglar responded meekly, “and I'll way ‘e His Hands, One of Which Held a - t Pistol, Were Calloused and on as y P80 Tae 5 . i Stained. lose,” sald Miss ther. “He is a f Y 5 - i ki ) good plu i calmly to - u her daze and 1 was " goup; “I think you must be an amateur." 1 Bepargeih I have sent a basket ensively wher . “I never touched a thing 't wasn't my B S Get him a good wengonrighn was she . | own betore, lady, so help me— breakfast to-mc ng, and I hoy ¢ sewer gas? her niece “Well, you haven't touched anything we shall have a Thanksgiving after all o Dadiliter 35 Sii) ot yet, now,” interrupted Miss Merry- < 1 shan’t forget how good -you all are in : weather, who had a manfa for accuracy. Tiaddn ¥ She continued: suppose you are put- The o well Miss 4 ting that sandwich into your pocket for e Sanio for these & -7 your family—don't do it: I'll make You factory, ‘cross the river, and scen all the oty s g ex times, being up a basket for them. Tell me what turkeys in the winders, and remembered the general ture of disap- by birth and e too great a i v/ brought you, such a decent man, to this how there wasn't a bite in our house fof ’r,,h'1 admirat She sald la arb herself about the minor v pass?” . to-day nor for to-morrow, and looked at r-»p].1 3 ‘ever see the M. § Delleve o ns nonsense! There The man smeared bis eyes with his hand the rich folks that don't love their fami- Mies Eiinor would git hev will 1f she had golng to ar before he began. “I never seen a lady lies a mite better'n I love mine, I got ;0 "‘M; 0 Woilll W Ay get & plumber «onty no pulling out @ pop, you know, Miss Merryweather encouraged him by a like.you,” said be. “I'm just going to tell kinder wild, I guess. I never had gredged The Pty wa dene, ksgiving. end firing it off at me in the dark, hit or nod and departed, lighted candle in hand. YOU the honest truth. 1 was working in rich folk their money before. I was will- » afternoon peculiar smile on the miss Never, It seemed to her, had she heard ChIcago, I beldnged to the Junior Plumb- ing to work hard and not to have very i ds the es of Helen's husband, she ertainly not; at least, not until I can S0 many sinister noises as pricked her ears €rs.” much; but now it seems as if there wasn't ,;d late tha d any good moral t be contained was so 1 remarkabl lar! to shoot him or hope it will be a it is better fi to a mercy to me (P.u I feel for. I don't know how I rvuld have beaten the bers without him!™ In scme countr an may get & vorce if hi know ¥ cook. ht to be a cinch. Biscuits like Mav llets and ples that we double up the bowels of the deep would make any man ery for home and mother. ADVERTISEMENTS. 34 THE HAND Is a mirror reflecting the many events the fu- ture holds, and palmistry shows how to change your relation to fate and thus choose the best course. o Do Not Lose Hope -7 because the way seems dark and the affairs of life mixed; win when the eiforts are rightly directed “Mme. Livorno saved me serious mistakes,” says Sarah Bernhardt. same thing. LLVO-RN-O OVER FAMMERSVITH & FIELD'S. D™ See full length portrait of Mime. Livorno and t>stimonia’s at entrance. THREE QUESTIONS by Mail, $1.00. it is defermination and will that Thousands say the and Crystal Gazer. KEARNY STREET PHON B’ ACK 2435 Send month and year of birth.