The Pathos of Simplicity.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVII, Issue 7995, 6 December 1905, Page 4

The Pathos of Simplicity.

The daj bad been fair, bat the night, with its promise of cold and storm, yielded not a grain of hope or consolation to the woman who sat alone in the cabin watching, with tear dimmed, sleepless eyes, by the bed of a little one. The old, deep, hopeless heartache had just begun to grow deeper when there came a rap at the cabin door, a short, gentle, bat distinct tattoo. The little wasted form on the pillow over which Polly Wiikinj was bending moved slightly and gasped. The rap was repeated a moment later, and Polly stirred in her chair, but hesitated a moment before rising. "Could it be Jim corns back after all T " was her thought. It was two years since Jim went away, leaving her with the babe at her breast. He had gone to search for a new home in a new country, in a land of plenty; for times were hard. Polly was young, she had beeu brave, and had promised to be of good heart till Jim came back for her. But two years had passed, and he had not returned. Times had grown harder. Polly bad managed to live; bat the ploughing was hard and the hoeing was hard, the weeding was laborious, and the returns were small, scarcely enough to keep body and soul together. And now the child hid grown sick, and she had no money to pay a doctor. When she drew open the door, and the insweeping gus* fanned the flickering blaze of the fagots in the fireplace into a brighter flame, the saw standing on the threshold, not Jim, but a big, tall, smooth faced young stranger. " la it Polly Wilkins that lives here? " he •iked from the doorway. " It is," was the answer, and as a fiercer gnat swept into the cabin, Polly turned her face quickly towards the pillow where the •hildlav. • " Will you let a chap come in out of the storm?" was the next question from the stranger; then without waiting for her answer, he closed the door and strode across the floor to the bedside where i'olly was again bending over the little sufferer. He gazed Into tbe child's face a moment, then stooped down on the hearth and passed bis hands three or four times through the blaze, rubbing them together to warm them. Arising, be felt the child's limbs, and shook his hod.

" It's cold," b* (aid, and his eyes began a hasty search of the room. " I s'ppose you haven't an axe " was his next utterance as be thrust his hands into his pockets and looked steadily into Polly's eyes. "Yes; what for?" Polly trembled a little as she spoke, though somehow sV.» did not feel afraid of this man. Stooping, she dragged the axe from under the bed. " It's a little one," she said; " because I couldn't chop with a heavy one." The stranger looked at the hands which beld the axe handle, then he looked again into the eyes ot the woman. " I'm going out to get some wood." he declared, taking the axe. " This needs to be warmed up for the little un there." "Bat the wood is out," said the woman, shivering a little; "and I,couldn't leavfc little Jim to go after any—it is so far." "So far?" "Tea, I have to bring wood from Mr. Winkler's new ground, more than a mile over the hill." " Smoke 1 Why, there's a belt o' timber right here at your door." " Yes, I know, but this Is rented ground, and the owner won't let me get wood there." "Won't let you, eh?" and tho stranger glanced towards little Jim on the pillow. " Say, I'm Tom Bolus," he added a moment later. "I knowed Jim Wilkins. I'm goin' oot there to get some wood; nn* more'n that, I'm not goin' a mile after it." He took a small torch from the fireplace and went out, closing the door after him. Polly Wilkius dropped upon her knees and tested her head on the pillow by the side of the child for a moment. "The man lias seen Jim," she murmured to herself; hut she realised in the same moment tint siie was jifraid to ask about her husband. In a few minutes Tom Bolus returned with un armful of wood. He had found a dead tree and felled it; and a blazing fire soon drove the shadows from the cabin. "Where's the kettle?" he asked, and Polly brought it to him." " There's not much water," she said. "Thespring is so far away, nearly half a mile down the hollow." Tom gazed up at the woman for a moment from where he was kneeling on the hearth. " Well, some women do catch it in this world," he blurted out. Drawing the kettle up between his knees, he pushed aside th-; lid aud ganged the water in it with his eyes. Then he drew a bit of some dark herb from hispvkct, and began to shave it of into the kettle with a blade of almge knit*- he carried.

"Jim Wilkins saved my life once," he saidwtiile he was eng'.ged in chipping the herb ; but this was as far as he went with the story. The kettle was placed on the fire; then Tom arose. "S*y now," he commanded, "you lie down over there and go to sleep. You need rest—l'll take charge ot the little un. I'm half a doctor, anyhow." Polly hesitated a moment; then, with a strange sense of well placed confidence, she did as she was told, and her tired eyes soon closed in sleep. The big nun stopped and lifted the kettle off the 6re. Going to the bed, he took the child in his arms and turned back to the hearth. Pushing back his coat sleeve, he quickly ripped the knitted cuff from a sleeve of his flannel shirt and dropped it into the steaming kettle, from which arose a strong, pungent odor. With rapid movements he stripped the child; and with the bit ol flannel, frequently saturated in the liquor of the kettle, he began rubbing it vigorously from head to foot until the little body glowed from stimulation, This done, he rolled the child up in the bed clothing and laid it Dick on the bed. Then, pulling off his coat, he laid that, too, over the little bundle, anil, thrusting his hands into his pockets, stood there a moment looking into the face of the woman. It was a young face, a pretty one, bat it had such tired eyes and was so thin t Tom want back to the hearth and sat down Co think.

It iu almost morning, and Tom had been thinking for a long time. " No," he muttered to himself, " I don't think it'll do to tell her right now, for she's got trouble enough for the present. I'll jest stay around awhile first and help her to get the kid on hisjiegs."

It was mora than an hoar later when Polly Wilkins first stirred. Raising herself on her elbow, she looked over into the infant's face, and a smile sprang to her lips—little Jim was sleeping as he nsed to sleep; and the stranger was smoking his pipe contentedly by the fire. More than a week passed before Tom again mentioned Jim Wilkins; and during this time Polly had learned to depend upon her new friend. There was a strong arm coming to the honse daily, and it was a restful thought, even though it was not her husband's arm. • Little Jim had grown bright and playful under Tom's care, and rapidly grew strong. "Pew, I I'ppov Vrt bean alow a comin' to it," Ike atianger laid ono day, between

pulls of h!i pipe, u he tat at on* corner H Ihe hearth; but I have to tell you now. You won't ever see Jim again." An exclamation formed in Polly's throat, but hung there and choked her, forcing tho tears to her eyes. Tom did not look up, but continued slowly: "It was this way.« Jim had been knockin' around out there trying to strike something, always figuring on fixing up something snug for l'olly and the kid. But somehow ho never had any luck. Struck dirt once, and the clouds had begun to wear gold lace to his eyes when a fever caught hiin ; and he lay in my tent sii weeks, out of his head sometimes, talkin' about Polly and the little 'un an' gatherin' beans and potatoes>" The tears were streaming Bilently from Polly's eyes while Torn talked ; but he, seeming to know this, did not turn his head. " Jim lived through the fever," ho went on, " an' got stout an' went back to work, but that dirt turned out to be only a small pocket, an' another chap had got the cream of it while Jim was on his back. The next time Jim went to work for wages in the Blue Bottle hole, an old, played-out lode the company was tryin' to squeeze a profit out of on the home strotch. Jim hadn't worked there three days till the slide came, and ol course it wasn't anything else but Jim's luck to get caught. We got him out alive, but he didn't last more than an hour."

Tom laid his pipe in the corner of the fireplace and went outside ; and it was half an hour before ho returned with an armful of wood. Seating himself again by the fire, he nubuckled a leather belt from about his waist, and with some effort laid it over in Polly's lap, for it was heavy. "It's a lilllo o' the shiny I've saved," he explained; "an' it's for you an' the littln 'un over there, whether—whether it suits you about Jim'B last request or not." There was silence for a moment; then Polly spoke. "Did—did Jim send a message ?" she asked. " Well, not a message exactly," answered Tom, slowly moving his chair around until his knees were close to Polly's chair. " You see, Jim didn't have time. He didn't speak but p few words, an' I had to get down close to his lips to hear 'em. 'Tom,' he said, when I was close enoug, an' then it was ever so long before he said anything else, l l—l want you to go back there and hunt up Polly and—and tell her about it,' he went on at last; an' then, Tom, see if you can't fix it up with her somehow S3 that you can take care of her an' the kid—you know what 1 mean, Tom.' " " I told him I understood, and would do it. He looked happy after that, and felt about for my hand; but in a few minutes more he was gone." Tom waited a little while, then looked up Into Polly's face. "Will you marry mc, Polly?" he asked. A long silence followed. A log in tho fireplace burned in two and fell apart, extinguishing the blaze and leaving the room in shadow. Then Polly leaned over and laid her head upon Tom's shoulder. "Stay, Tom," she whispered, "We need you, little Ji.u an' inel "