Love’s Message

Love's Message

BY H. R. MERRILL

He

seemed no more than a boy as he opened the neat

littlegate that led up to the pleasant, .snow-covered cottage that

nestled under the protecting branches of a large tree. He walked

with the strange, halting step that is characteristic of the mendi-

cant.

He knocked on the newly-painted door in a half-hearted

manner, as if he were afraid that his knock might be answered.

The door opened, after a moment, and a rough-visaged, unshaved

man appeared.

"Mister, could I obtain breakfast from you?" the boy be-

gan in a low tone, the tremble that he couldn't keep out of his

voice, indicating his earnestness.

"Certainly, certainly," the man replied, as he stood aside that

the boy might pass.

"I can't pay for it." the lad hastened to say, before he of-

fered to advance. "I'm broke, but if you have something I can

do, I'll be willing to work for it."

The man paused as he looked searchingly into the wan, hag-

gard young face. He leaned against the door, which the boy

evidently thought he was about to close.

"Please don't," he cried, "I'm hungry. I'll work."

"Work nothin' ," the old man bellowed. "You come right in

here." As he closed the door, he sent a blast through his nose

into his handkerchief that fairly shook the door frame. "I reckon

we're not too poor to feed a stranger, air we, Mary?"

An old lady came forward as they entered the kitchen. She

gave the lad a tender, though searching look a wounded, aching,

;

mother heart was revealed in the tone of her voice as she re-

plied :

"My boy, you're welcome here. Sit right down there by that

stove and dry them feet. Why them shoes is plumb wet through."

The young tramp took a seat by the fire as the old lady hur-

ried out of the room. In a moment she returned bearing a heavy

pair of woolen socks, and a good, heavy pair of shoes. Her eyes

were shining and her cheeks were flushed, as she laid them

upon a chair beside the derelict.

"Now vou git them wet things right off an' put these on this

minit ; you'll kitch cold."

The lad hardly knew what to do. He attempted to speak,

LOVE'S MESSAGE 939

but could not. The old lady and her kindly ways reminded him,

someway, of another lady he knew, one not quite so old. —

"Now, sonny, you jist put them things on," the old man said,

as he held out the socks. "They're warm."

"But they're new. I can't take them. I haven't any money."

The boy was overwhelmed.-

"Tut, tut, what's money Money couldn't by them socks

!

from my wife. There's some things money won't buy, my boy.

Now you jist put 'em on. It'll hurt her if you don't."

The old man picked a stick up from the floor and began to

whittle it carefully as the boy removed his ragged and badly

soaked shoes.

"You see, we got a boy about your age somewhere," the

old man said in a low voice. "We've been waitin' fer him for

mor'n three years but he hain't come yet. I've about give up

hope, but Mary ain't. She say's he'll surely come some day.

Women air funny that way. She keeps some socks knit up ready,

for she says he'll need 'em sure when he does return an' every ;

time a feller like you comes along she gives him a pair, an' it helps

a heap. She'll be quite happy, now, until she has another pair

clone. Every time she hears a knock she thinks it's him sure,. an'

she says to me, 'Run, William, run, it may be Willie

!'

It ain't

never been him yet, but I jist can't help but wonder, myself, who

it is knockin' as I open the door."

He whittled in silence for a moment.

"You see us old folks is a little lonesome here alone," he corir

tinued after a moment. "I wish he'd come, and I reckon he would

if he jist knew how things are."

He dropped his stick and wiped his nose, deftly wiping his

eyes at the same time.

"Hain't you got them stockings on yit?" It was the voice

of the old lady that broke in upon them. "Do hurry, your dinner's

waiting."

The lad looked up, and in his eyes were tears.

"I can't put them on."

His face was working and his voice was broken.

"Nonsense, why?"

"I

—

I have a mother waiting, too."

---

An hour later, the boy to the ticket office of a

walked up

near-by railway station, but in his eyes there was a new light in ;

his voice there was a new ring, as he asked the agent for a

ticket.

"Where to?" the ticket man asked.

"Home," the lad replied, unconsciously voicing the one

thought in his mind, as he laid his gift, a glittering gold piece,

upon the glass receiver.

PRESTON, IDAHO ...