WEST SHORE.
atcd. Tlii'n, quickly, " We'll go right home as soon's
tin) rain holds up; we'll"
" No, I can not go back there again," said Marie.
" Kverything in dark and Iiojh'Ichh More mo, but I can
nut go back with you."
" Mother won't he cross any more, I guess," said
John, but then- was considerable hesitation in his tone.
Then, brightly, " I'll tell her I won't sign no more pa
lters if she plagues you again."
Little John apiearcd to think that a threat of this
nature would give projNT protection, for he smiled and
nodded and looked as cheerful and happy as though
everything was satisfactorily settled. Hut Marie shook
her head. Little John lieeame grave and thoughtful
attain. Finally he burst out in some petulance
" Twas that llawkes. If he'd 'a' let you alone
mother wouldn't 'a' had nothin' to scold alsmt. You
didn't want him to talk with you, did you?"
Marie's only answer was a quick, burning blush.
She was looking steadily into the tin1.
" Where's yer father an' mother ? " Little John
anked. lie had forgotten that he had put a previous
Ui'Htion.
" I am alone in the world," Marie answered. The
Hindi had not left her check, neither had she ceased to
study the glowing coal. " I do not remember my fa
ther, but I sometimes think that my mother loved me,
and that wherever she is the separation from me is a
pain to her. I sometimes think I rememlier her face,
hut again I fear it is only a dream. Where I see her
it is all water altout us, ami it seems that she took me
in her arms and kissed me. I hope it is not a dream,"
in a low, half audible voice. " 1 could le happy, even
in my present misery, if I could know that the haunt
ing vision was a reality, and that some day, even if
not till I die, 1 shall meet a mother who loved me."
" There, there," said Little John, wiping his eyes, for
he was crying copiously, " don't ye talk so, deary. I'm
goin' away pretty soon," smoothing her hand. " I'm
old an' ain't god for nothin' here, an' they don't want
me I'll take all my money an' won't let 'em have a
cent. Hut what'll we do with the big house?" stop
ping and looking puiilcd as this obstacle to the total
demolition of his family presented itself. " I'll make
a will an' leave it to you, an' then you can let me live
with you. an' you'll read to me. Yes, that's what I'll
dV rubbing his hands in delight, " an' we won't never
let that llawkes man come in the house, an' you won't
have to cry any more."
At that moment the latch on the door rattled loud
ly, and Marie started up in affright.
" It's only some o' my old friends," said John, in a
whisper, " I won't ht 'em in."
John oeneJ the J.r a crack, but his intention of
concealing Marie was frtMratrd, Ar whoever it was
without gave the door such a push that the little man
was almost thrown on his back. . The next instant Old
Tom, his clothing drenched, was standing in front of
the salamander.
" What do ye want here ? " asked Little John. He
had closed the door and was standing in front of Marie.
There was something like determination in his weak
eyes.
Tom's hands were clasped behind him, his face
wore a smile so broad that it resembled a grotesque
mask. The tone of his voice was particularly friendly
as he answered
"Hello! "
John seated himself, and drawing Marie close to
him, looked up into the visitor's face in a relieved, if
not to say interested, way.
" I ben a-walkin' a little fer exercise," said Tom,
" an' the rain corned down nn' wet me through an'
through," examining closely the tails of his dripping
coat. " I knowed ye was here, 'cause I Beed the smoke
a-eomin' from the chimbly, an' I thought I'd come in
ter see ye. Didn't know as how there was ladies pres
ent." He bowed to the lady, with a smile intended to be
reassuring, then he began to scowl. Next he fum
bled in his pockets.
" Here's a dollar I've got," he said, exhibiting the
piece, " so ye see I don't want ter rob ye. A friend o'
mine gin it ter me. He gins me money every time I
amies 'round. He likes me, he does' an' I think more
o' him 'an I do o' my own son." Tom moved his lips
to such an alarming extent that Marie crept closer to
Little John. " Don't be afeard," cautioned Tom, with
a grin, " I wouldn't hurt a hair o' yer purty head fer
nothin'. Ye're awful purty, an' I'm a-goin' ter tell
the man as gin me this dollar about yer, an' he'll come
an' marry ye," with a leerof bulky playfulness. ''His
name's llawkes, an' hey?" The last exclamation
was caused by an interruption from Little John.
" Where's he live ? " John repeated.
" Lives up in Hoston. He's a banker, an' he's got
! rojx-s o' money."
j " He's a very bad man," said Little John, sulkily.
; "He makes Marie cry."
j " How's that ?" Tom asked, thrusting out his lips
in his championship of his friend.
" He follers her 'round when she don't want him
to," complained John, "an' her mistress makes her
cry a-tw ittin' of her. She was a-goin' ter run away."
" Please don't say any more," whisiered Marie, in
great distress.
" Mr. llawkes 'a a gentleman, he is," said Tom.
I " I'll tell him not to bother ye no more," with a real
; suring nod.
" Tlease say nothing about inc." Marie pleaded.