The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 18, 1906, Page 6

a cheerful e within the house midwinter day, Ann Dunn innocently er ironing as s tw es we ng way; me . M A m g w g so but £ e s ez a Bive € e at e, ex ed Mar . Give me your jacke oddled over n attcmpt sweeties the da with dy sym- nwilling whence he aptly slipped to the floor again, to stand facing her at a safe distance, and begin « sccond series of perfectly un- intelligiblc remarks, Pity for you 'ont learn to tark like a Christian; a at man of a child like »u!” scoffed his mother with assumed See how well your aunty the sense of a word you say Tis the nice grocer man he bees tark that ni comes inside the doer there’s a sweetie in his pocket = for Hinry. Well, then, you should have the pride to tark like other folks, as Um always advising vou.” Hen™ had not moere than reached the of 2 years. but he was evidently ani- mated by a fie well ampe spirit that served him ihe place of experience. He now ttle foot and protested loud- his 1 1y, but his elders went on talking over his head with perfect indifference, and presently he returned, not in the least sulky. o the lively company of the small~ er bahy and their friendly little dog. m sorry enough that I ever come Ellen announced regretfully, after a n't you jthe big focl!” ‘remarked the who was well married and a good tenement, which even sister a best room and a magnificent amp with a yeliow silk shade, a wedding present given by her man's as- sclates at the gas house. “I never saw th f ¢ I wanted to go back,” she tinue might like just to see the make a little visit of two-t'ree lHimself was having great tark an bt about his own old folks, and me he'd get a couple of months off go home. He'd itke well to show e 10 his fader. ‘What tark you f gol home like a lord L mesilf 1'd rather the money in the bank than spending it on ty ships goin' home.’ TI'd like to see me mother, t0o0,” she el well added more soft “but John's a great boy to spend his mc if | wa'n't sharp wit im. I've decelved him that a good dea! wint te the grocer's books that's safe in the bank this minute. Only last night he come home wit' a suit o' clothes r Ilinry there that was a good three xizes too big. I'm all put back wit' me ronin’; I had to go carry 'em back to the store t morning soon as me dishes was better than the stingy kin sighe A downhearted the day?— loatin good for vou,” said Mary ame briskly to the stove 1 and stood for a moment ear her cheek Whisper d of a by was 1 brother, the one th n the land? John him bein’ so smart r 110 foolish about his own 1o ely b'y; he's twieo s Johrn—1 ain't sayi i looking, teo.” re- sponded Ellen with a lively blush. “Oh I thinks very often o' poor banny,” sh sdded sof “We parted very angry. len grew rosier still. and the teirs sho n her petty ¢ and were winke d then theyv came back gal e rwas all me own fault,” she nanaged to say Well, % no ha Ann insisted kindly mart )’vs encugh to be choosing——prect b'yse ton. Jerry Callahan was walking wit' yoti last Sunday. He's o great lout, se he said Ellen with sudden fury 1 turned down a street to get rid of his com- pany. Great cmadhaun! An’ Phil Carroll’s x good fellow t come 2way from mass wit' you on the Sunc Oh, thete's little birds tells me evervthing; an’ all the b'ys s the prettiest girl on the ay's dance o week ago.” uld not be cheered. * 'Tis then,” she answered 1l them fools has to r people and at ¥& his brother some girl now; I told him—— that tall Desmond Dan's g don't his know girl at e aacas e s Uncle Abraham’s Le Yived on this side yond Donnelly’s £he always wanted him,” said Ellen after a strunge littls pause, but the color all left her bright check ury Ann did not look round, - but more than usually intent on her e had . too, hadn't she?’ Mary Aun o “Folks said it of her; 'twis {from an okl aunt in Dublin that she got named af! Some sald it was fokty pounds—there wa: conversation about nothing else an’ [ comii away.” Ellen spoke slowly as if with much ef- fort “What come betw vou an’ Danny, then, if you liked him?” asked M Ann with the authority and directness of an elder sister and a married woman. Twas me own foolighness; there ain't a day but 1 says it.' answered ilen mournfully. “I never thought of anny one but poor Danny. an’ I never was sfied 1 I'd find some wa to tease him. He'd them honest eyes like John's. that’d be lookin® at-you all the time like an old do and he'd take every word a girl said for the thruth, an’ 1 wint too far wit' telling him he'd no wish for anny gacy | © - BY A. A. PATRICK. Bragg because she apparently had not but 'l say this; I think that what's in LTHOUGH in past years Silas acted gccording to his instructions. the box ought to be worth a good many Bregg and his family had been “Where's old gray-coat?” he ai thousand.” 2 : the sole recipient of many bene- 17 he-gone vet? No? Didi't I _“Uncle Abe” broke in Mrs. Bragg, : ounce him? What d've mean—goin ou are the kindest and best man in factions from Uncle Abraham, ,..,p1im here to eat a feller out.o’ house the world. Why, you have a home here as the burden 6f old age Degan upq home? Didn't I tell ye to make it as long as you live. Whatever we have to heap itself upon him and his earning for 'im? I'm a honest man, 1 am, 1 shall share it with us. You are powers became proportionately less and I don’t want to be hard on nobo nd dear to us, Uncle Abe, and we Jess, the gfore ; began to pon- but he's done eat up the wuth of every- don’t think nothin’ about whether we'll Ser e probl getting rid of thing I got out o' him an’ I ain’t gomn' get anything or mot. Why, only & hi; - o emtiemar, agatust the O bave ‘im no longer. Now, ye get rid morning Silas was speaking to me, say. » e % 7€' 'im; pester the life out o' 'im; spill In’ we must tell you this. Yes, indeed, should make ;5 coffee on 'im. D'ye hear me? I say, Uncle Abe; you needn’t worry about a get rid of 'im.” home.” served Having delivered himself of these That evening, when Mr. Bragg re- on life ed - er asands of other the places y. But t re all gone those W rrendered at Appom: they War ttox he, soldiers, trudged had left ime and war had the Civ four amazing changes everywhere A relations that Uncle Abe Some had remat; ho After looking about made rangements agg home- re box, the led himself ears Uncle Abe found 1o be congenial, and his n, as ated, proved to be gly ¥ E eving won the confidence ude of the ex-soldler, came esion of property of considerable tions increasing the un useho n A wes pe te of affairs He moved abou belled his years; with zest tha e moped continued for w2 great shock to pen he learned that it was Braggs to him held the It had been his desire to at this place. He dd. For days and about the and dejected ar The people would gaze after he passed and remark that was going down mighty fast e st with an agility he laughed and t was surprising, sbove there lurked in his eyos chievors twinkle and giltter that oungers the viliege store had taken note of b However wonder was lon was hed by t real cause 5 on the ne be lay in £s had been ha; Only a few evenings befo: ng v state. strongly home in a rai admonished Mrs welghty remarks Mr. Bragg settled com- fortably downin a chair and dozed off into a deep slumber. On the following morning Uncle Abe did not appear at the breakfast tabie as he was usually wont io do. Mr. Brags, eaten his breakfast, again com- Bragg to “make it hot for An hour passed. Ugcle Abe did not appear now 'im.” piped the matron in a shrill voice. “I'll learn 'im to lic abed. Martha Ann, go get that syringe an’ a pail ¢ cold water, an’ give it to ’'im through the keyhole.” Before Ythis or- der could be executed, however, a thought of such a pleasing nature en- tered the mind of Mrs. Bragg that it al- ie her gasp for breath be the old codger's dead,’ ated. “Run, Nancy, an’ see, she she as commanded, took\up a po- front of Uncle Abc's sition in : room, __ peering eautiously through the ey hole SR N N S 0 00 300N BB NI BR S S TRBII NN SRR IR DIKely e i ok tonight. him, mis: What she saw made her fall over back- rd and scramble up the hall toward the kitchen the part of Naney, Mrs. Bragg could hardly rcstrain herself from shouting. Siie felt certain that Uncle Abe had left this earthly sphere for other parts. This opinion wus soon dispelled, for when the girl had reached the kitchen and 1ad sufficiently recovered t§ make ex- planations she told of what she had seen in soniething after the following man- ner h, ma! Oh, ma! He had his box open on the bed, an’ it's jest plum full o' greenbacker bills!” In @ little time after this occurrence Uncle Abewame out of his room. Mrs. Bragg, con g the new light on the situation, made haste to prepare a warm and tasteful meal for him. " Eragg,” he said, «'I have just ng a lttie thinking. I am get- ting old. At the best I can’t live many ears, end 1 don't want to be moving bout. Now, I'll tell you what T am go- ing to do; I'm going to stay with you Silas what few days I have left. When I'm gone, there’s a little square box in my room which you can have. I'm not %oing to tell you what's in it. deri been de i t sight of such action on e 005 turned, he looked at his wife sternly. ““Well, has old—" He didn’t finish. “Sh-h-h!" interrrupted Mrs. Bragg, holding up a warning hand. Then she went over and whispered in his ear. Mr. Bragg apparently comprehended, for in a feW minutes he called out: “Nancy, go an’ see If Uncle Abe needs a fire in his room. D've hear me? I say, go an’ see if Uncle Abe needs a fire, an’ if he does, build it. Martha Ann, go ask Uncle Abe ‘what he'd like to have for supper.’ After the second girl had been dis- patched ‘on an errand to Uncle Abe's room Mr. Bragg turned to his wife and said, in a low tone: “What ye want to do Is to treat 'im right. Let 'im have his way 'bout any- thing; give ‘im everything that's good 10 eat—pie an' such truck as that. Don't want 'im ~goin’ off from here waggin’ that box. Whew! How much PRESIDENT'S message and the regular speech from the throne in England have naturally a good deal in common, since they deal with current problems and an- nounce the policy of their respective gov- ernments. It is not generally known, however, how very dissimilar are the methods by which these messages or speeches are prepared. There can be no question that President Roosevelt writes or dietates every word of his annual messages, while with King Edward the custom is very different. In the first piace the speech is prepared by the Prime Minister, assisted generally by one or two of his principal lieutenants in the Cabi- net. When the first rough draft is ready it 1s discussed at one or more meetngs of the whole Cabinet, and usually on these qccasions the speech In its originai form receives considerable revision. After the Cabinet is agreed on the out- come cf the King's speech the Premier ®oes Lo the King. either at Buckingham THERE was A Som RSN BETOND, ) NS N S D OIS0 000 £ O] 3504 d’ye reckon's in it? Thus the old soldier entered upon an era of unbroken peace and quiet and good living. His every whim was humored. He was petted and waited on continually. There was no length to which the Braggs would not go to put Uncle Abe at ease. They even furnished him with small sums of money. He told them that he had some money, but did not wish to break a bill. Seeing that they would get all his bills in time to come, they were not re- luctant to humor him in this, as also they did in many other things. Indeed, if anything were refused Uncle Abe, he would begin to make preparations which, the startled Bragg family thought, were signs that he meant to remove himself and the square box to some other place. This would never do, of course, and after a sound ing from Silas they would again be whipped into the line af obedi- erce and homage to the ex-soldfer. In the course of time, as was natural, Uncle Abe died, and Mr. Bragg, In a last splendid burst of generosity, gave him a fitting burlal. When the sad rites were over, Mr. Bragg hastened to return home. Followed by Mrs, Bragg and Naucy Bragg and Martha Ann Bragg, he' un- locked a certain room, unlocked a cer- tain trunk, and unlocked a certain box, and a cry of joy died half-uttered in, his throat. He got upon his feet and kicked the cat and dog into the yard, then cursed till the very walls of the bullding trem- bled. Neighbors heard the shrill voice of Mrs. Bragg and the deep curses of Silas, and wondered what the trouble could be. The box was full of Confederate bills. On top of them lay a little note, which read: - “I think—1 always did think—this money ought to be worth a good many thousand doliars. But it is not.” Palace or Windsor, and the draft is laid before him. It is a mistake, it is said, to suppose that this is a mere formality, and that the King assents to the spesch as a mat- ter of course. On the other hand, the King makes it his custom to go most carefully through the draft line by lin: With his chief Minister, often pausing ta discuss the principal peints of many of the measures referred to. The para- sraphs which deal with relations with other powers and forelgn policy recelve specfal attention at the hands of the King, since it is a subject in whicn the King takes the greatest interest. On mere than onme occasion since he came to the throne the King has entire- Jy remodeled references to forel] pow- ers and has written suggestions on the draft with his gwn hand. When Meajesty” thus suggests alterations in the text of hig speech it Is -once more con- sldered by the Cabinet, and. if it seems better to their collective judgment, the al- terations are allowed to stand. . Tt hv no means follows that the Cabinet SUDDEN NOISE As e TED AT THE L N THE SOMEBOD Y AST REmar= [C BY A. M. DAVIES OGDE! y T looked very pleasant and homelike . | in the>studic when all was finished. The girl, a brown-eyed, slender creature, with masses of soft brown hair around a small oval face, smiled con- tentedly as she surveyed the results of three days’ labor. A few pretty rugs were scattered over the floor. Plctures in various stages of completion leaned against the wall. And on the hearth a cozy wood fire sparkled cheerily. Beyond was a glimpse of tiny bed- room and a kitchenette. Miss Vandervier drew a long breath. It w what she had been dreaming of for vears, this re- turn to New York to a studio of her own. Now she could show what the hard work in . aris had done for her; now she could prove what was in her. The janitor, watching her with his shrewd. kindly old Irish eyes, nodded a slight approval. She would do. Pat was father, friend and counselor to all the cager, ambitious young hearts gathered under the roof of the big studio building. And it did not take him long mentally to fix the status of each newcomer. But to Miss Vandervicr, for some reason, he vouchsafed a pecu..ar attention, studying her face, whenever unobserved, with sharp intentness. He nodded again. “I hope you will find it agreeable, mi he said, as he gave the fire a rattling poke. ‘‘We are rather a nice lot,” judi- clally, MARING A KING'S MESSAGE will adopt a suggestion because it has been made by the sovercign, and on more than one occasion the Ministers have found it necessary to stand by their orig- inal text. A serious deadlock once took place in this connection. Once Queen Victoria resolutely declined to pass a paragraph inserted in a royal speech by the Prime Minister of the period—Mr. Gladstone. Neither the Queen nor the Premier would budge an inch from the positions they had taken, and it seemed as though the dissolutiun of Parlfament were the only manner in which the difficulty could be overcome. - Ultimately, however, a group of Cabinet Ministers managed to effect a ‘compro- mise, and the crisls came to an end. When the final draft of the speech has been pre- “FW*“pared the Premier once more conveys it to. the King, who then signs it. Neither the Great Seal nor any other seal is at- tached to this; simply “Edward Rex” in the King's bold handwriting. and the document is ready for presentation to Parliament. § 3 . § : ® “He do \be calling all the time,” ex- one but the Desmond. girl since she got her money." “Most like 'twis but forty shillings in the stead o' pounds,” said Mary Ann con- solingly. “Well, an’ what happened then?" “T'd given him no promise,” said Ellen, more sadly still, “except 'twis in me own heart. I think I'll never see annyene in the world like Danny; an’ he had the lovely patience wit’ me for a grand while, till T plagued him too far an’ we had = smitch o' tark that day on the road. All the way we didn’t stop a bird from sing- ing, we were so quiet ourselves, till I t'ought I'd tease him; an’ he pled with me then lke a priest—would 1 turn away from him altogether and misthrust him 80? An' I don't know ever since why didn't T give in, but T didn’t, an’ I turned an’ walked off. down the road from him, an' T thought jvery step I took he'd be after me, Wil I'd changed me mind so much I demeaned meself to look over me shoulder, an’ he wasn’t stopping where I left him at all, but going off like a soldier, most out o' sight. An' he wouldn't look ba an’ thin I called loud enough to him, and afterward I went back of the furze bushes, so none o' the market folks GOLEOGENNG: Pat’s Memory for Names D) - would see me, an’ I cried till was gome. So that's the :nds aln't the first girl, cither, that was such a fool, but I wish I'd be the last.” : An’ what made ycu come off then an rave him? All the while since you come out I've saild to John you wa happy: ‘twan't Ameriky displeased you, but own was on your something of your mind.” You might have had the sinse to speak,” said Mary Ann, with awful se- verity: “an’ John makin' things worse with writin' home what admiration all the b’ys had for your looks an’ your dancing.” “I was full to the hgad o’ mie wit’ pride an’ sorrow. an’ I wouldn't let on I'd got hurted,” $aid Ellen, n' [ came out (o hide away from ivery ona there, an' now T've told all. Ah, 'tis all done an’ over Folks would try to tease me, an’ thers was those would both fetch a lie an’ car- ry one, an’ fan the fire o' throuble. [ listened for him whistling by night whin ‘twas fine an' dark, as he'd always done when he'd waited a while after our little pets before, an' I'd run out to him then, an’ we'd make up lovely what troubles had been between us. But this time he'd no whistle left, an" they told me he was seen a good deal up to Desmond's, an” all thet. Sometimes I'm glad I came away, an’ sometimes me heart's broke that I was fver such a fool. He'd mever speak to me again anny way; but I don't blame ‘im ayther.” Ellen had now come to the point whers she couldn’'t do without the help of much-fufnbled little handkerchief. “He didn’t come with all the neighbors to say §oad-by to me, an' I was lookin’ for him to come an’ stop me from it, an' I pre- tindin’ to pe full of laugh and very gay fiearted, so nobody’d carry him word, an I thought the first month [ was here I'd be getting a letter from him -ivery day or a word in somebody’s letter to wish me luck; two or t're times I sint word to him with the rest, wishing him happiness and not making him anny joke at all.” You were the big fool,” promounced Mary Ann celdly, as she tried another iron with her wetted finger. “I've got no word meself but that for yez.” She tried to look harshly at poor Ellen, who-still sat crying. “Coom now, Elleneen, don't cry, Elleneen dear. This is the last irou, an’ then we'll sit down an’ make Hinry his two little petticoats when I've done me last pieces here, an’ I'll make the tay early for the two of us. You'd better think of some o' the other b'ys. now that's all past.” But Ellen only cried the more. Tis plain enough now he don’t care very muel, for anny ome,” said Mary Ann with cold decision. There was a sudden noise in the room beyond; as if somebody protested at the last remark. “Run quick for me, Elleneen, ex- elalmed Mary Ann; “’tis the little dog in there tipping everything over.”. Elecncen ram, and Henry toddled after her, and the inroeent puppy after him. There was a shriek of joy and the sudden appearance of a big. hearty voung man with bright curly hair and a wistful face. Danny had been wait- ing all the time, a suffering captive the inner room. “She! saw you coming.’ humbly ex- plained the lover to his happy Ellencen a minute later. “'Twas Mary Ann seen you coming on the street, sure, when [ Wwas just getting me directions how I'd g0 find you. An’ she said if I came out before she'd give me I'ave, she'd have me heart’s blood. I t"ought fvery nix minute she’d break the mews for us. Sure I worked iver since to get the money for me passage. Don’t mind me harkin’ to all the poor little sorrows, darlin’; sure ‘tis meself only loves you the more. Don’t mind me for stayin’ in the room.” “Ah-h!” said Ellen, returning to her old sports as soon as she could speak, “‘twas just like a stupid man! Sure, T'd been out o' me cage like a wild blackbird the minute I got sound o your voice. Anny way, I've got the lovely pinance after me confession.” And Elleneen hid her face agaln in the rough frieze coat, which still car- ried a homelike fragrance of turf smoke, though mixed with the duller and more recent odors of tobatco and the salt sea. in > “Thank you,” responded the girl, grate- the flickering log, wore & changed ex- fully. It was a bit lonely—this much pression. Bob Lawrence upstairs—and beasted independence. ‘“Are there—are {ll! That in all the big city of New there many other girls here?” Pat waved the poker. “‘Well, there's Miss Delano,” he reflect- ed aloud. “She’s water; and Miss Brown in oils, and Miss Merriton, who charcoals. All nice, quiet young ladies as you'd wish to find. But the young gentlemen!™ lift- ing eloquent hands. “Them’s the nolsy lot. All but Mr. Lawrence, that is,” con- sideringly. “Mr, Lawrence ' she echoed, faintly. The old Irishman nodded. “Mr. Robert Lawrence. You'll no doubt have been seeing his things. Some\likes ‘em. But as for me, [ likes a bit of or meself,” gazing admiringly at a fragment of vivid blue Venetian water and sky. “But sure, Mr. Lawrence ain’t troubling the paints much these days,” harking back to his subject with a sigh. “But, well, well,”” suddenly changing his tone, “I must be going. Good evening, miss. Aund if there’s anything you want, don't hesitate to call upon old Pat for it.” But the girl had drawn near the door. “Is—is anything the matter with Mr. Lawrence?” she asked, in a carefully in- different voice. *“I—I think I used to know him in Paris. “Did now?” The old man shook his head. Tis very sick I fear he is,” he answered, soberly “I'm thinking that if no one comes to nurse him it's to the hospital he will be going. We've written his family, but they must be away. The doctor said that if no one came he’d most *Tis sad to hear *Sad? face, repeated the girl, with averted plained Pat. ‘Marion, Marion,” 'tis that he’s whispering. “ ‘Marion?" ' faltered the girl. She bent forward. *“You are—you arc sure?”’ she demanded. tensely. “Marion, or Maude or maybe 'tis Mar: returned Pat, indifferently, “I'm not good on remembering names. But it must be some one Le’s terrible fond of. His whole bstudio is filled with pictures of one young lady, drawn every kind of a way. "Twould fair surprise you. He's sure got his eye on some ene,” 2 droll smile tightening the corners of his mouth. “Well, [ wish she’d come, then,” the sigh returning. 'd have a job for her. But good-night ‘again, miss,” recollect- ing hjmself with a start, “here I am, gossiping away when I should be doing my work. And don’t trouble your hecad about/Mr. Lawrence. He'll most likely pull through And with a final clatter of the poker he was gone. But it is very easy fo tell a person not to trouble. To follow such an in- junction is a different matter. Miss Vandervier's face, as she turned back to York she should have happened upom the very building which sheltered Bob. ‘What could be more unfortunate? This had been the first thought which leaped to her mind as the old man chattered on; followed. however, by the consoling reminder that they need not therefore necessarily meet. And then, with a shock, the unexpect- edness of which set her a-quiver, had come the news of .us illness and delir- jum. For a moment a cold finger seemed laid upon her heart. Beob 1IN, and calling for another girl? Yet why should she care? She did not, she told herself, with a quick toss of the head. She had taken that chance when she sent him away. He had beem hers first, hers utterly. A sudden wvision of those old Paris days rose before her mind, when Bob bad begged her to marry him and come home, and she, trying her wings and rejoicing in their strength, had only laughed. Give up her work and go home? How could he ask it> But he had asked it and then gonae away. And mow he was upstairs 1l and calling for another girl. Her mind reverted constantly to that thought. Naturally she had led him to forget her. But equally naturally, with the fine self-confidence of I%r sex, she had never belleved that he would. With a determined effort Miss Van- dervier flung hersedf into a chair and tried to absorb herself in the cherished studio—out to no avail. The thought of that lonely, ill figure upstairs persisted to the exclusion of everything else. HHe was {Il, very ill, and they were going to take him away. And all he needed was nursmg. The girl caught unstcadily at the arms of the big chair and half sprang to_her feet. But that other girl! Could she, oh, could she? Perhaps it would be unfair te acedse Pat of ‘“‘smooping™; mothing might have been further from his thoughts. But be the truth as it may, the indisputable fact is that when a few minutes later the door of Miss Vandervier's studio opened and -a slender figure uitted un the stairs Pat, unobserved In the dark hall, uttered u smothered soumd. n breathless interest he wai Tes ted. Then came to him & lght knock. - & low exclamation, and thes a feeble, yot thrilling. joyful ery, “Miriam. oh, Mir- fam!™ Pat. his lids snddenty w lonz. satisded si “Mirlam. is it>” he muttered, “Mir- jam, aha,” with a sy twingie. born of his knowledze of womin. “Maybe Fm not much good af names. Nyp u': sure the fine eyes I have for a like. ness.’ 23 And picking up the . Scuttle he went down the ;Sf.‘;’ - emitted a )