Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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THE WEEKLY LEDGER; GAFFNEY, S. C., NOVEMBER 28, 1895. “O' see yo c!Sa oftwfa ^ Hr CoPy0H.HT »K -n.* 0 m ft iiAv, yOu n.i*C V < wmCI 1 *111 hare done for you. You will sock another home this day month. Miss Whitford.” “No, madam, to-day.” ‘Oh, yes; go oft at once and leave me with those tiresome children. Then I suppose you will pose as a martyr be fore Uncle Woodgrove, and I shall never hear the last of it.” ‘Do not fear that, Mrs. Grindlay. I will not stay another night in your house, but I will not carry my griev ances to that good old man.” “And as for money. Since you arc so reasonable, I will gladly give you— v “Just what yon owe me; nothing more. - “Then, I think, Miss Whitford, it would be as well not to say good-by to the children; it is no use stirring up ■ fuss over such a trifle.” “Not the slightest use,” Elsie as sented, and left the room dismissed. Back to her old lodging again. Then came a time of adversity, of perpetual daily disappointment, enough even to crush the high hopes of this courageous girl. Advertisements she answered by the score. Now it was n public speaker who wanted an amanu ensis, an office that needed an attend ant, a correspondent for a new com pany, but the burden of their story wai always the same—the advance of a few hundred dollars as an assurance of good faith—not on the part of the bogus enterprise, but on behalf of the unfortunate applicant, who was to em bark her services with very dubious chance of ever receiving payment. To add to her trouble her stock of money was getting daily more and more attenuated, and in the midst of all these worries an adventure occurred to her which only plunged her deeper into difficulty. One cold,, blustering day she was re turning from a fruitless hunt after em ployment when her eye was attracted to a tall, slouching man, apparently a tramp in a very dilapidated condition leading by the hand a very tired little boy. The child looked at her with a pitiful glance which went straight to her heart. Notwithstanding his dirty clothes and unkempt hair it was appar ent that he was a lovely boy. The man noticed her wistful glance, and looking round to see that no po liceman was in the neighborhood, be gan to whine forth a tnlo of f ulTering. “Is this little boy yours?” she asked. “Well, no, miss. I’m a keepin* the kid for a gent as was to meet me here •n’ pay for ray trouble, but he ain’t come, an’ if he don’t turn up afore night, by thunder, I—" The little fellow had never taken nr, •yes off the girl’s face. Sudd mly he snatched himself free from the manV grasp un«t Slung ni.n..< ; . i. g apo:» Elsie. “Oh, don't you know me—don’t you know me—I’m Willie Wilders, of Ore- ft ^ |e cried, In ic man for in was feet dis- Mr. Woodgrove! I’m so glad to ” and the poor child’s eyes danced utyh unfeigned delight. Then aVvhite-haired eld rly lady came forward and took the girl’s h m l with such a sV^eet look on her benevo lent face, that Elsie involuntarily raised herself on tip-toe and ’.i.. . I. ■. a proceeding which seemed to hugely delight Mr. Woodgrove. “Didn’t I tell you so, mar" he chuck led. “Told you you'd take to uy little governess the moment you set o\ es on her, didn’t I?” Mrs. Woodgrove laughed. "He’s quite in love with you, dear, so you must excuse his gushing manner, •he said, sweetly. “Now tell me, haw you secured any other position?” “No,” Elsie replied with tears ’.veil ing. “Hurrah!” cried Mr. Woodgrove, “that’s all right then, so all yoa ve go; to do is to pack up your traps and com 1 along with us,” “Go with you, sir —where?” “Why, where would you go but horn \ of course. To Buffalo, my dear. Vv e il leave by this afternoon’s train, for I “IS THIS LITTLE BOY YOURS?" dare say you’ll be as glad as I am to get away from the big city.” “Oh, but I’m afraid I cannot go with you.” Then Elsie told all her troubles from beginning to end, winding up with the exciting recital of her discov ery of Willie Wilders, vho was forth with fetched downstairs and exhibited to her wondering visitors. Mrs. Woodgrove, of course, fell in love with him at once and kissed and crooned over him, as though he had been her own little lost darling, a course of petting to which 1 he young gentleman took with^fntensc satis faction. “You say he comes from Michigan?” Mrs. Woodgrove asked. “Yes, from Oretown, in the upper peninsula.” “From Oretown!” ejaculated the oM gentleman. “Why, that's the very pki > from which Frank Grey hailed.” “Frank Grey!” Elsie cried, blu .bing crimson. “Do you know hi/ii, Mr. Wood grove?” “Do we know him? liar iua! Do we know Frank (' F .gress we do. Why. tn ■■ 1 what?—the future was so lull oi late, so big with doubt. Nevertheless the dream was a golden one. c: T A.l'T"U XVIII. noDD PAYS A DEBT. Of course, a! tlrs season of the vear the train which bore Elsie and her for tunes westward was snowbound; and, ; equally of course, instead of reaching | Buffalo in the small hours of I he morn ing, it never rolled into its destination | till the day was well-nigh spent. As Frank Groy knew nothing of their ; intended arrival, he was not at the sta- j tion to meet them; so that sly old gen- j tleman seized upon his absence to make , his preparations to explode that glo- j rious jike on his young friend he had | been chucklingover ever since it entered | his head. Thus, when the home was reached, I and they had all rested and refreshed ; themselves after their long trip, he set i about putting his plans into execution. ’ Willie was tired out, and was put to | bed forthwith. Elsie was consigned to : a cozy breakfast-room at the hack of ! the house, where she would he out of the way till the critical moment arrived —told to rest; but you may be sure her little heart was beating too bois terously for any chance of her obeying Bueh thoughtful orders. “Now, my dear,” he said to his wife, “you come with me, for I can't trust you out of iny sight. You’ll go and spoil it all by telling him. I know you will.” “You dear old goose. I shall enjoy the ftiM as much as you will. I wouldn’t spoil your plot for a farm.” It was lucky that (Irey was promnt in his return from business, for Mr. Woodgrove fidgeted up to the window a dozen times to see if h > were coming. “lie's here, my dear! Now, Dolly, behave yourself.” The young man burst into the room v. ilhu cry of welcome: “I’m so glad to . ee you. When did you arrive? It has he He u. governess, how dare you go on like this?” A pretty picture presented itself. Grey stood with his arm round Elsie’s waist, utterly unabashed at the pres ence of his friends, while she, all blush ing, hung down her head and hardly dared to look at anyone. “God bless you both!” cried Wood grove, his face exuberant with delight. % When did you arrive? >n so dull without you.” rasped the old man hand and Mr. Woodgrove cried, ap- “ re member your promise. -t h- .i i. one co i i r uvo.j. a soil rove :>s- ien he hiNnSCSiTto k tent she counted her money forth to purchase suitable clot her poor little pensioner. Not tilfThcn did she begin to ply him with ques tions. He oould not tell her much. The bud man, he said, seized him when he was walking in the woods ever so long ago, and had brought him by boat and train a great distance. Oh, no, the bad man had not been very cross with him until quite lately, nor had they wanted food until a few days ago. The next thing to do was to telegraph the prospector; but hero another ob stacle was in the way. A terrible storm had swept off miles of wire, so no mes sage could be got through; nor was >t likely, the clerk said, that communica tions could be made under a week at least. She could write, of course, ho suggested, but he was pretty cer tain that the railroad was blockaded, and he did not think a letter would fare > much better. This would not have been ho-serious, only the poor girl found that after her recent ontlay she had only four dollars V remaining—not a very princely sum on nsrhich to keep two persons in a city like New York, where everything is always at war prices. Next d»y was Sunday. Early on Monday nforning Elsie was trying to resolve herst'Vf into a committee of ways and meansN The more she puz zled her brains the'greater seemed her dilemma—dollars wor? pot elastic, and the wisest head could not make more than a hundred cents out of them. “There's * lady and gentleman down in the parlor for you, miss.” It was the friendly handmaiden who bore the -summons. Yuliy believing they were some peo ple whoee advertisement she had an swered, die bade Willie keep out of mischief and tripped downstairs for the interview. Bat she had hardly entered the room than she found herself in the grasp of * friendly hand, and a pleasant voice finer in Kev mm, “So we've ran you to earth at last, but, dearie me! How pale and out of aorta you are looking, what a naughty, had, wished ftr! ywi art ta rra away i't he, Dorothy?” "Indeed he is,” Mrs. Wood; sented, warmly. “And he once lived with us,” El ie murmured. “In a large wooden ho ■ ,? on the top of a hill near a. diva-ifal i d - v” Mrs. Woodgrove asked, to Elsie';; a.,‘;>n- Ishment. “Yes, indeed. Those were very happy days.” V “So he seemed to think. Oh, now I 4tS.it all. If iny stupid old ; r.m had just condescended to give u, v < ;.- name, he ir ;t b v.n to r ivn about you—Syr rave he di!, my e i-— instead of coir^antly alludhig t >y • i as his ‘little gowner.V how mu h mystification wc^jght have been spared.” “ ‘If’ is a big word, tlfiug’u it has only two letters,” Mr. Whit fund sontentiou ,- ly remarked. “However, a?Fs well that ends well. I have to do some busine s In the city, so I’ll leave you *-j ir.ak preparations for the j >nrn my wife docs not want to eo.n me, for she’s done nil her shoppin. shook it warmly, but he took the old lady in his arms and kissed her loving ly on both cheeks. “Oh, Frank!” she cried, all radiant. “Wo’ve such a surprise f >r you.” “Dolly,’' pealingiy. Come and sit down. Grey. I've some thing of consequence to say to you.” “A surprise for me!” Frank said. “I hope it is a pleasant one.” “That depends on your own good sen ,o. I've brought my wise little gov erness home with me, Frank.” “Oh, I’m so glad.” “And ma and I think that if you are only amenable to duty she need never go back again.” “1. sir?” “Yes, you, sir. Frank, it is time you were thinking of getting married, and now is a splendid chance for you.” “You mean that I should marry this lady?” “If she’ll have yon, yes.” “But, sir, I cannot.” “You mean you will not.” “Well, if you choose to put it so «*t-ongly. T v/Pl not. There Is nothin** ::: thb> world I would not do to show r. y gratitude and a ff - -tion for you : no noble wne—nothing but this one thing.” “Because with all my heart and 1 love another." "1 don't believe it.” “Ob, sir.” soul o yon ^3^ \ V / * »£• ;ji' l cV'i ' - m / > . . ■ . .vr.- ,r.~_ .. , ,gi5f» : ' tit' f,». j IT SF.r.MHS TO El.' !". - ■.. ' I.IKK A DREAM. nothing will pleas'-her nuuv than fix ing you and the little ehnp for tli . long journey." Ar he left the room ! ; . wif - run Into the hall to have a w<>r 1 v.d 1 h hi i. “One moment. M u -u - he eried, laying her hand on hi. a r i. “What is it, litih’ woman?” Then with beaming e,\v •» - h • i ip.irt- ed the momentous • • Ti t sh * \v. . burn ing to toll him. “Oh, my dear old nrm, h ih<- v< ry identical girl that Frank Is in ho -v. i'.li. Think of that imi,!” “Nol” “I'm certain of It.” “Why, that’s the grandest | I ever heard of. Won’t v.-e have some fun, Dolly? The young dog. to think he turned up hi* nose at my pretty ;-ov- erneM! Eh. but I'll pay him out f >r It when I get home.” It seemed to Klee liken d r-i. ns the train bore the happy | u-ly far away from S city, where she had seen •q Buob disappointment to—n.yo, to distinctly and absolutely re fuse to ask my little governess to marry yon?” “I do.” Here Mrs. Woodgrove could control her good nature nc* longer. “Oh, Frank, wait till von have seen her.” “Bah,” shouted the old man. "I’m not going to have my little governess put on exhibition for approval.” “Nor would it be of any use, for il she were as charming as a fairy, she would not turn my brain.” “Very well, then it is quite under stood that you will be out of the race. There won’t be any chance of second thought altering your opinion. You won’t, when you have seen her, by changing your mind and wanting me to let you have her?” “Not the slightest chance of it.” “Well then, Dolly,” said the old man, turning to his wife, “it seems we must give up ihe project.” Grey fell very miserable. Mr. Woodgrove continued, severely: “So we quite underatard each other. You are to treat her as distantly as though she were old enough to be your great-grandmother.” “Certainly, if you wish it so.” “That’s a bargain. Now, my dear boy, would you mind running into the breakfast room and fetching me a parcel you'll find upon the table there?” “With pleasure, sir.” In a moment he was gone, and the old people were alone. “Marcus, how could you tease him so?” “Oh, what a glorious joke it is,” chuckled the old man, in keen ecstasy. “I wish we could see him when he opens the door and finds the parcel— the parcel, ha, ha, ha!” Then this fond, happy old couple stood hand in hand rejoicing in the pleasure they were giving—happy in the thought that they were bestowing happiness on others. The world would bo better and brighter if there were more of such noble spirits in it—they wove among the rich who would go through the eye of the needle. Minutes sped, and still they waited. As the time flew by the old man’s ira- paticnco became unendurable, “I can’t stand it any longer, Dolly; I must go and sec what they are doing.” "For shame, Marcus; you shall not sllr." But Marcus was beyond restraint. Putting his wife gently on one side, ho strode along the passage, making much clattering and unnecessary noise, and opened the breakfast-room door. "Come hero, Dolly, come here,” he cried. “Here’s pretty goings-on in a quiet family. Oh, you young rascal, wlto turned no vour nose at mv little ‘GOD BLESS YOU BOTH. “This is the happiest day of my life. Now, Dolly, we have a daughter as well as a son. Heaven has surely been good to us.” Meanwhile a sadder scene was being enacted in the prospector's cottage on the distant shore of Lake Superior. The house of mourning had become more and more desolate, for father and mother seemed to have utterly brokr-i down under the weight of their sorrow. “Day and night,” groaned the unhap py man, “that little child's figure F be fore me. Millie, lass, I cannot say any thin’ to cheer you up, yet I see you a- fadin’away before my eyes. You had hope enough once for both of u-u but the light’s played out now, an' there’s nothin’ but darkness around us.” “Still, dear Jack, I do not give up all hopes of seeing our little one again; but if it is not to be we must meet our I fate witli resignation.” “An’ that's just what 1 cannot do. j Do you think, Millie, that in the next world, about which you seem so cer tain, that we shall know him again?” j “Yes, that I do, Jack.” This very ' fervently. “Well, there’s some comfort in that for you, at any rate.” But it didn’t seem to bring much sol ace to the prospector, who sank again into moody silence. “Hark, there's some one at the front door.” “Don’t stir, Jack, I’ll go,” Millie cried, springing from her scat. She returned with Corporal Whitford at her heels—Corporal Whitford i:i evi dently a great state of mind, so excited that he could hardly speak. “I've come to tell you that, we've just received a telegram from Elsie.” “Ah!” “She’s iu Buffalo.” “Coming home. I suppose? Wei?, I’m glad you’ve had news of her, for she’s a dear, {food girl we love dearly.” “And say, Jack,” the corporal drew nearer to the prospector, and his voice sank to half-whisper, “I think that I wouldn't—that is to say, I only think, you know—but I really wouldn’t quite give up all hopes of seeing Willie again.” The prospector sprang wildly to his feet. “Great God! You have news of him? Spe ik out, man; I can bear the strain no longer.” The honest corporal had been thor oughly impressed by his ‘wife with the necessity of breaking the news by de grees; and here was this provoking couple working themselves into hys terics before he had said a dozes words, or, as he tersely put it, “going off half- cock before the game had risen.” “Well, there’s a telegram—read it for yourself. I did my best, but the fat’s all iu the fire now.” The prospector took the paner in his trembling hands, and, with an effort, read the blessed words aloud: “Willie Wilders is with me safe and well. Break the news to his parents, and tell them to come on here as soon as possible. I found the child acci dentally in New York. Reply. Elsie Whitford.” A bright gleam of ineffable joy spread itself over the prospector’s face. lie was like one drunk with ihe delirium of delight. “Hurrah!” the corporal shouted, catching the infection of joy. “Three cheers for Elsie, and ‘a tiger’ for the boy!” But Millie, after the manner of her sex, when the trouble was over, of course broke down, and, to the dismay of the gallant corporal, fell into a dead swoon at his feet. We will not attempt to depict their joy on meeting their child, such scenes are better imagined than described, for words can paint events but not emo- tion«. Of course the Wood groves were in mgn gice; incir Utnaiy !i -urts were touched to the depths at tl: ■ joyoi::; e - mosphere they breathed. >. .T.„. s in-* sisted on Elsie receiving the thousand dollars reward, which he k..d brought for her in crisp new bills, and, as the prospector showed signs of o cer.se at her refusal, the happy girl took the money, to Jack's entire sat!. ! >.i. Meanwhile Jack and his buy I. .1 leg coinmunings together. From these lit tle conferences the prospector picked up several bits of information which he pieced together, and was enabled to arrive at a tolerably accurate guesr; as to who was the originator of the out rage. Of these suspicions he said nothing to his wife until they reached home, but then his wrath broke forth. The first thing he did was to send for Susan Green, who, now that the boy was found, had hoped to be spared fur ther explanations. “When you took Willie awav from Alma Miggs,” Jack asked, judicially, “had you been talkin’ to a man—walk in’ with him, in fact?” “Lor’, no.” “Now, think, Susan. Think again.” Susan scorned reply. “Did you meet that fellow Dodd, there?” “Man, you said—he’s not a man; he’s a parson.” “Oh,” Jack grinned, for he had a strong sense of humor, “so you confess that j r ou did meet him?” “Confess, indeed. I’d like to know what you mean by confessing? Of course I met him. Did I ever say I didn’t?” “Had you an appointment with him?” Susan’s wrath was rising. “That’s my business.” “So you decline to answer?” She remained silent. “Did Dodd hand you a package that afternoon?” Susan's nose was d'.arp, her lips were thin and her anatomy of bony procli. '- ties not wholesome to look at, but. . Jack put this question she seemed to shrivel up into ten times her natural ugliness. A leaden hue spread over her face, paling all but the tip of her nose, which was a flaming, scorbutic red. Without a word, she dashed for the door, but the prospector’s bread back was against it. “No, you don't, you vixen! By thun der, if you don’t behave yourself I'll have the constable in in less than three minutes. Did you take money from that man?” “No!” “You lie!” The man's passion was terrible, the swollen veins in his forehead stood out like whipcord, as with towering form he stood over the trembling girl “You sold my little one to my ene mies.'" he cried, hoarsely. “Like Joseph’s brethren you sold him into bondage.” Susan's limp figure bowed to the blast. “Oh, Mr. Wilders, dear Mr. Wilders," she cried, flinging herself on her knees. “Don't kill me! I'll tell the truth! I will indeed! I'll tell the truth! Oh, good ness gracious me, do have pity on me.” Jack paused. “Wife,” he cried, as though struck by an inspiration. “Give her pen and paper. She shall write her confession.” CHAPTER XIX. MR. DODD APPEARS AGAIN. "It shall be a legal document,” the prospector said solemnly. “Wife, keen your eye open on errors, fbr I alnt much of a hand at literatoor. Susan, prepare to write.” The meek-eyed girl meekly took her place at the table pen in hand: Jack dictated: “/ Susan Grctn, spinster, being qf sound mind, do hereby affirm before all conditions of men, regard’ess of sex or color—” Here Millie interfered to ask how many sexes a man could be, but was promptly reproved and told that no woman ever could understand law terms. “That I was hired by one Dodd afore said—” “Dear Jack, you never said one word about Dodd before.” “ To lay out and do up one Jack Wilders bv putting up a plant to rob him of / •'• rhdd- ” “ 'Lay out’ and 'do up’ are not law terms, are they, Jack?” “If you don’t hold your tongue, Mil lie, wo shall never 'get there.' Go on, Busan.” “And I received— n “How much did you receive?" “Twenty dollars,” Susan sobbed. “Great Scott! Twenty dollars onlyl To think that a boy like my Willie didn’t fetch the price of a Newfound land pup! Go on.” “ The sum of twenty dollars sterling—* “‘Sterling’ is wrong, I know," pleaded MUHe, ‘It Is only applied to silver.” Her husband dared not debate this shaky question, so he simply ignored it. “ To do so, which I accordingly and fe lonious’,/ did—” “Did what, Jack?” Jack glowered. “How often must I tell you that there never was a woman critter born, as could get within a mile of a legal document.” “By enticing him from a female person one Alma Miggs, and handing him over to a thundering, dough-faced sneak, one—” “Jack! Jack! All those bad words cannot he right.” “Archibald Dodd. All which is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God. Amen. Susan Green.” When the prospector had pot his “legal document” signed and delivered, he turned upon the dismayed Susan, and, pointing to the door, roared in a voice of thunder hut one word: “Git!” “Now,” he eried, “for Mr. Dodd. Get me my coat, Millie, while I put Dandy in the cutter.” “Stop, Jack, you need not go on that errand. Here’s a cutting from a news-, paper my sister sent me this morning. 1 did not show it to you before because you are so very excitable. Now listen."- “A sad cad.—Our readers will remeip- ber the case of Archibald Dodd, who suffered so severely whilst driving to our city from Oretown some weeks ago. He died last night, a raving maniac, in the county poorhouse.” “And there’s no forty-bclow zero tem perature when he’s gone,” Jack sneered. “Don't jest, Jack. Lame, blind, mad!” Millie shuddered. “What an, end!” TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK. FOR Up-to-Date Job Print ing. call at the LEDGER Office. W. B. DnPRE’S Pharmacy. Evar/thing New and Fresh. Prescriptioos carefully Gompnded, A I A eleplionc IVo. 2i, T>it>r or DRUGS, MEDICINES, PAINTS, OILS, ETC, Sunday hours from 10 toll a. m. and 2 to 3 p. iu. You want good goods and low prices. That’s just what we want to give you, and will do it if you just ask for our prices before you buy Shoes, Hats, Jeans, Do mestics and Dry Goods of every descrip-* tion, Notions, Hardware and Groceries. Never come in town without getting our prices. Respectfully, SARRATT, SIMS & CO.