THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 324, 25 January 1908, Page 3

THE STORYTELLER.

JfOߣ LEAVES FKOM A LADY DISPENSE!! S DLASY. BIBIILKV DADM. Kvtra.tcl .ml 11-1....1 by Hill, |i,in„,n. I have Ik-. 11 looking i-ii.-i-ii an ~|.l diary ; 1 u-til t.. k.sp . ii.'. i.:.l '~iiii.-ti.ii then. ■«, not u.-arli i--c.i 1 ■ : .ili I wan ed In -.1.1. 'lint I, ..■ aii.| Hi. 1. are hi); I.lank- 1 haw ju-t 1..1111 '. on--L-tiug fur almoM a year! .M.• -: •■:

that I inn ua- -prut di-|N-n-ilig i-r a llr. Mn.lair, in a dear "Id. rambling country hoii-e at We-ibury. aU.itt twenty uiihs from l...|ibn. It is not beiau-.-at Wfstbury, that nothing ►- writ! n in my diary. I l«-li.-ie, at the time. I Mt'it Has too -.1.1 1.1 make litth- JO. tings of in a hitU- yellow ls~.k- hut I rmiembrr trom the tii-t day. when a t-uily haired baby Is.y i.uiu' running to hie ,i.*,r a, the maid an ssrred niy kmnk, and I h.-ai-l hi- lead • hisper: " _ Hh. U.llrey—l- it daddy t-uniin'?" tn thus*.fiumnier day- uh.-u But I must not -kip on like llii-. I uill write it d»un ju-t a- it all 11.1pp.11.-,!. The eurlt-haired l«.y «a- .all. ,1 BuhMra—l -up|»i-e he had another lLiiml«t I never heard it.

In the drawing room, over the piano, ami bokinj; out un t» the ro-e----g»rikn. »*. a piilme of a lau-hiny. Wu**y»U lii.y; at hr»i I thought it maBubUrs until that .tear little man by lay tide clambered on to the ehair, and patting the fare on the wall, cried: -Uuikiy! Uaddr! S»e my daddy r" TVn I saw the ryes looking so s»ei t I) inlo mine were deep hazel-brown—n»t .ue, but that I think was the only difference in the two face*. Alaott from the nrnt this little tive-jreai-okl boy looted upon me as his apeual property. It was "Hastin'-. HaatiftV >U da)' long; he never could BkUUge a ~ ili*s Htotiny-," though Iwlb kin grandpa ami hi* granny, Dr. and Mrs. Sinclair, Often told him be mu-t. Uttt 1 tared hi* way of calling me, and *a» glad he never altered. Tkr »urj;rry 10 him »j- a very -11 1 periur nursery, ll only he !i. would >pend hour- tl»-ri- »ith me, and. M kiag a* there w-- no infe. liou- illana about, be was all..««isl to i-oni.-. I thuogh, of course, only lietw.en "•.ur- | gery ' tiaet, when he na- hi|«jiii.— itadf, always provided that Dr. Sinrlair ! wa» out. j

For the child stood in great awe at tin* big. grave man; he in hi* turn •carrrly ever spoke to him. and a! first I thought hr even disliked him. lie would MM mention his name if he could poMtblj kelp it—he seemed to -hun all thought of the hoy. and yet i couldn't help thinking that be really loved him. and that tor some reason he wanted to kid* it!

Hot the "granny " wa* very dillerent: Mr*. Sinclair openlv and unaffected! v UouW Bobble,, and I think would have spoilt kim if old Mr*. Ureen, the bou-e----kevper and family factotum, had not bad a voire in the matter. She it was who drew the silver haired lady away from the piano, vbere she would play vn and on lor Hubbies, though the sound of the notes ai, a pain to ker -why, 1 did not know then—and she who stopped sometime* the child's continual questions about iLi L dy," when she »aw the tears come unbalden to the kind old blue eyes. It »a» Jin. lirern. too, who told me a little about Owen Sinclair, Bubbles' "daddy," how he bad been the spoilt darling of thai home—and tnen in the cad be bad broken two hearts when be grew up so wild and <rratic, and no oar, not even his ninth' r. could restrain kim; and bow the cri.sk iud come when he had suddenly married—but all this 1 heard much later, when old Mrs. (jrecn wa* down with rheumatics, and I uiis-t not Keep running on like this.

So when 1 urst went to We-tbury. and knew none of these ihing-, I u-ed to weave stories round the i-urlv-headed boy ami the two sad old people! I could •ec there was some grate trouble, and '* was easy to gue-s thai it centred lOUnd Hubbies' father.

How be longed jot his daddy to nunc! Aad il only someone would talk about kim, bow be loved it!

His granny, or perhaps Mrs. i.r.en. kad told him that when his daddy wax a little buy be aad plated in the surgery, now bring a patient, now a doctor, anl bow a dispenser, and this all thrilled Babbknt, anil be wa» never so happy as when be wa* playing the same game himself. And sometimes, in the middle of it, we would hear the door suddenly open, and a man's footsteps coming down the long passage. Then he would •ton his play, listening intently, with a fat little finder in the air, and say: - S»a, iiaatinV— 1 fink it's daddy!" But it sever was, and it was difficult fat or, who "knew Bulbing then, to explain »h> he didn't come.

Ilia devotion to the father he had never known was to him tie was the one perfect being in this little workl—a being created lrom all that granny and Mrs. (Jreen could telL Alter a time 1, too, began imagining stories of Uwen Sinclair, to please little Bubbles; and his favourite game—reality to bun, unfortunately—was one i invented.

>'ir»t, a patient conie a to the door with a tore Uiruat. "Ihu is Bubbles, making a great lues, croaking ami coughingthen the doctor, ~ lUslin'»'' tor tne time, looks seriously at him, and linaliy order* a very special paint to be made lor the bad throat.

the dispenser (1 rapidly transform ■yactf) tuoka very emuarraased, and tin ally admit* that she canl make it! \\ no cam! ihen the ucilement begins, i«r Bobbin, ao lunger a patient, but daddy, gru*a into a real, live doctor, struts lato the room, and, ol course, be will ■lake it! Then such a weighing, and awaatuug, and bulling, not to mention cakalatwiia! And at but a bottle of {•rat u produced warranted to cure any throat!

And Dr. Owen Sinclair, Bubbles' daddy, is the only uian who can make it, and (be only man who can paint it on the bail inruat, too!

1 womkr huw ullen we played that (tot! Time alter lime, until we both knew exactly what the other one would •ay and Jo, and until 1, 1 must coulee, grew heartily tired oi iiOf course there were days when there was no time to play with Bubbles, lung days uf real dispensing and eurgery work, with plenty of turuat paints and other nasty things to make; but this nit not odea. The Sinclair 3 were people oi uiear-s, quite apart iroiu tuc practice, and tindoctor, who most lute been about riny year* old, had no wish to exfud mCTHUectioli, so thai, compared with other poets 1 had held, 1 had a very clack time. On one days, Bubble, and 1 would

play in the garden, however cold il was. It wan a dear place, and, like the house, large and rambling. All round

it was a high, brick wall, m some places quite hidden by the thick trees and hashes; here we had wonderful games oi htde-and-seek, and when the snow came 1 remember «o well the huge snon-mau we made —and how very hard de..r Bubbles tried to give bun daddy'- la.-.-!

When Mr-. Sinclaii and her hu-lund were both out. it would go and ■■[•t. the big [.lauo. and then I played to a.j little companion, or he would -di "ii lue music stool, and, waving hi- Jim- up and down the ke\ a , would e\plam to uithat thia wan bow daddy played! tor some mum, 1 alujy.- connected music with Owen Sinclair, perhaps localise his niotlier looked -.. pained and agitated when she heard iii.it pi.ieo played, iet she begg.-d me to u*e it. to please her little grandson, 1 think. bat 1 won diseurered that, when 1 did, •he went iar'away, out uf doors, if possible, and always out of ear-shot.

Bo 1 war very careful al«.ut when I played; uileu ("would till Bubbles that 1 was too tired, or that i!h- drawing-room was cold, or thai 1 »«-. Im-y rather than bring tint 1.-..C of utter sadness over his granny - dear old la.--. One "pring afternoon, when the laburnum hung heavy on the hrau.-h.-H and a scent of lilac filled the air, 1 found myself with an idle afternoon on my hands.

Aln. Sinclair wai out. driving «i'!i itulihlei, and tin- doctor had gone l<> town. Tin- hooking \vx* all <|oin-. thmedicine* finished, and tin- ii!, that much talked o( " »■» |, m .' ... . wandered vaguely »nl in:., th.- -hi. :. feeling that 1 could not j»> —il>l> -it ■:• •.-. n to «w, ur cv.n while, tin- lini.- .i»j\ i» th a book. The garden »a- the plm i!. t «eenied inviting- the -rein of lii" daino earth and tin- .I*l tl..«.i- -11 ■> a contrast to all the •1 I rau-t have r.n.n.1.,! almiit i "■.i r- : j« quite au hour. «l»n I >■.'- -ruii.l >■; Vl nound i|tiit«' .111 unii-m! - ' •■" ■ itmelodiev i;el - ■< I- 'i-'.nii '[through the air. II >.i- ..11.11:1 ■ 'piano, but where: And " '•<■■ »•■- ;■'■'. 'inn? There wa* 11 !•■ in.lo-.i- '■"•' '' Fnuida—and 11.. other J I listened again, an.! I '. 1 jt, tbit tiuw louder.

l walked ton-itvi-. llie house, and Hoods ni mii-ie poured mil to greet me! Jta.l Ml-, siii.-i.iii come home! Hut, no v v,u ii -in- had. | "' l ' playing wa- nor like ilii-. I hi- »a- mit playing -it v.* magic: rli. note- wore u.i longer IMI-, diet «fif i «.ryiny and -illyilly and -..bi.ing. I m-led ii|> ill.' -t-iif -I'd" 111,1 •'" through tii.- ~.ii-.n.itniy ami into tin-drawing-r.niiii: it »•<- ■'- 'l' —menne "'•■ .i-t.iii ».•! ■ .aliam and t-iilliii", ami I ,Oill.| ,|. nothing iillt obey. ! A figure 1., ut iiwr I In- pi.iu.i. —•m....ii<- ' mil in.ii -ri-v hair ami a shabby «'"•■»« - ii.- .li.iii'r -<•"• • ;""' l, <' i ,la . w '' l ' ;| j like a 111.11. ill .1 dream.

Ili:.- in-iriitiii.»t wa- a liu- ereauiro. 1..,•.i11.'. .111.1 car.—ed hy 111111-. anl all ■ i\. 1 ,r.- -j'.ving »<-ii: 1.. a pa--ion.ile !»,.n»ini- I 1 in a storm, here, there. and everywhere, hut always heard, riling higher ami higher, until it broke i' -•ll r.t la-t in iiiie great ery. Tln-n t!i.-..- wa. -lime, ami I wa- glad. Alter a moment the man rai-ed his h-.id and our eve- not. Hi- were de p l.lue-hnt 101 lie-, h- war. l'.tihhl-. ••r..»iinp. of eiuir-e I gin—cd directly h.- «a- tm- |.-iigc,ll..r daddy, come at h-t and linding everyone out. he «> plaving while he waited. -Mr. Mn.-l.iir. i-11't ii:" I -aid. laking

.1 -tip t".i> l!.k- Unit. II- -;.>.. d b\ tin- pian... leaning a»ain-t i: 1„-.imIv.

-ii.-, .seihl ...u know.." he -aid. II med very -tartbd. I >np|».-ed at meet'ii;; a -tranter in 1 lie room. Without meaning to, I looked at the pi.-ture on the wall, and Ik- -aw nie. - You're i|uile ri^ht.' he »aid. " 1 am Owen Sim-lair. I wa- pa-in» the old place, and the thought or my piano drew mc in. 1 thought the hou-e was empty. 1 t-aught sight of my father at the »tation—and I know my mother is out—l saw the carriage. I hid in the bushes till 1 knew the servants had all gone to tea. Hut it was risky." He had rambled on like this, watching me; now lie stopped. Evidently he mypo*ed 1 knew hk, story, perhaps because 1 bad recognised him. Hut surely Inhad come on purpose to see his mother and his own boy! Why hide! For a -tii prise! -Mrs. Sim-lair will lie in 'pule soon n..w. 1 eai.l. 'and Hubble-, too. He will He delighted to =ee you." •■ Bubbles!" he murmured, staring at me. " Bubbles—who is he!"

For a moment I was diinifoimded. Then I rciuemticred it could only be a pel name. -I ve always heard your little Iwy tailed th.it." i explained. The man's ha mi fell with a crash on to the note*—the noise was like a desolate *hrick whistling through the room. "Is my little l«>y here!" he said it last. -Here with my mother and father, who turned me away, and who hate me! And does lie hate me. too? Tell me that—have they taught him ;« ■ :-.• me!"

He stiode up to me, his eye- dancing madly. 1 wa» rather frightened, but i managed to find a voice—it was not like

"No one hates you here," I said. • Bubbles worships you. He talks of no one else. You are his hero, his idea of perfection—his god." The nian'r lips were quivering. " Hero," I heard him whisper. Ktmorse was written in every furrow of his face—the anger had disappeared. Tears .stood in his eyes, and 1 wished to Heaven 1 could do something to help him. lor wai-n'l he Hubbies' daddytile Hubbies that I loved! Suddenlv he held out his hand to me. -Oood-bye," he said. " I mustn't wait here now, not even to see Bubbles. J don't know who you are, but thank you lor loving my boy. I will come back again, when 1 am a little more of a—a—hero."

I could scarcely nuke out all he said: he walked towards the door, the gardendour, then turned to me. •What's he like!" he asked. 1 looked again at the sweet face on llx- wall. " Only brown eyes, not blue." I said. "Poor little Nell!" lie murmured, and I thought he had gone, but on the step he turned onw more. -ioull forget you've -een me here!' - Ve«. 11l forget," 1 answered. I watched him go through th" bright conservatory, and down the old stone step-,; be went as if he were anxious to hi<le himself, and in sympathy I left the window, I shut the pi.uio-1 didn't want _to plav it ever again, and went upstairs. W'iit did it all mean! \\ hy should this man come to his old home like a thief in the night! And how could he not know where hi* darling Hubbies lived? As I was going into my room, I thought of Mis. Ureen, who had been ill tor some days with acute rheumatism. 1 was .sure she must be lonely, so 1 climbed another flight of stairs, and went to see her. The servants' quarters seemed a long way otr; such a funny, rambling old house it was. She was delighted to have a visitor. - En, niisaie,'' she cried. " 1 could hear you playing this afternoon, and it did «o remind me of Master Owen!" She looked at me with admiration. " You young ladies can play," she went on. -1 wished 1 couM come down and listen nearer, and I would if it hadn't been for the everlasting passages, and my old bones!"

1 was grateful to the passages and <i!Z bones, but, having mentioned Owen Sinclair* name, J led her on, and it was on this day she told me what you already know, and a good deal more, too.

As a boy, Owen Sinclair wa-- very cit\er, with a wonderful talent fur drawing and deigning. Added tu this, be • a.- brilliant in lualheuiatics, and so had chosen to beeome an engineer. But ■niuic possessed mm—and drove every - tiling eLe out oi bis head. To his lathers disuiay, his work was all thrown to the wind., and he devoted himself with a feverish ardour to what lie then tailed the only thing worth living for. Looting back on it all now, 1 can see how this love ol music undermined his character; 1 believe it took his thoughts 100 much away from practical, everyday iiie, and kept him soaring in clouds of mystery and wonder, a fairyland of hi> own, very beautiful, but very impossible, so long as he bad to live in this practical, everyday world. Hut 1 don I want to moralise about Owen Sinclair; the lact-, arc that he would spend days and days, just dreaming, in ecstasies over lus latest treasure, il might have been liccihoveu or Chopin, and often the old house rang with wonderful music till long alter midnight. But this wouid all have been forgiven—it might have been a passing phase—but be threw money, his father's ni"Qey, away, right and left, on any impecunious iuu-niaus lie came across in I»i- wanderings, and linally meeting a pretty girl, wim a voice like the lark's, tell down belore her, and married her, with never a thought of bow he should keep her. According to .Mrs. Green, she ' was not tveu respectable, and Dr. Siu- * iair, in his lury, hail turned bis son 1 away from home, and forbidden him cu-r to return. I have pieced all this together—the 1 old housekeeper'* tale was anything but I a I'ouuevted one. lint she told ine one I '■ .hing nwre. wltieh war that "the liUs.-y Nell.' a- -no called her. had ii.it cared l.i i.i;. L.r Ma-ter i1w.,11. -1..- knew, and u!h-o tie- . ti-is cani.- at home, übu-ed . iniri l.in.ilv. and left him. And one ' .lav. Mi-. Mmlair had received ill a little , basket liilbblc-. lil-n-lit by Nell. who , had lle.er r-.1l llilll -ill. v \ I ua- viy unsettled and wretchi'd lor the next lew day-. | avoided the pi-ill"-and the .iranimj-rooui: I loiiinl niy.-cll a hundred tiling- to <lo to oeeiipy my mind, but 1 cml'ln'l drown the memory of that -Irangc inn-ic. and. every time I -hut my eyes. I could see Owen Sinclair- pale lace, with the i-ad blue c.vcs. Iluhhh- followed me about ju-t I lie -.line, and I tried hard to play with liim. but it w.i- ditliciilt. "Daddy" had :.<-/ii ju-t a myth to me. and then it ridti't iiuttei what we made him do. Inn ii.m tliat I knew -ii imicli. awl had .-..•ii ii him. I siniply couldn't play tiio-e ;ratn,-- in the old way. We went tor more w.ilU in-te.nl, and .mi.' I wa- .(iiite -lire I -aw him. Hubbies' daddy, turn down a (!iecn lane a« we ..line iilmig. And whit mole like ly than that lie -liould want to see lii-.-liilil. having ..in e .li-eovcred him r I hoped he would come boldly to tile '..•.ii- pia.iii" Tli.it l.c-oiie- wi.uld he ■v;,.i: ■ fan- even prepared for J'.nb:.l.- t . -,. av..iv with liini'-bnt dav- Hew ov. ~l„l -|. a 1,, « eek-. and Oleic UMs ■I" -i-ll ..[ llilll. The ii,., ||,i,io that I remember. I i.-rv .learii lui.peiie.l ab.mt a month !..!.-,. ..il b.v.-lv ,lav ill .Inn,. Il u.i- -i>. n'-loek. .ml I Wil- ill the -nr-.ry. ,|..lin- „i,i m-diem,- to a few | n!. ~..ti-li:-. Hi. --ill, 1., i, had imt eolllr .ii. a..!. I. nin- 1i1;..,| ~!i i|,e Lottie-. I I -...'- in-- -in- :., ~,L,, ~ !,„,e ;lll ,| ,-,,„! unto : . ■■ :iline,i. when 111 u.i- a • ' - ' '■■' 'io.-r. in-: .i -ill •■.line in. ' r ..,.1i':- , ;it:i- .■!,,!,,. |,-i'! ...a 1-,! .'■ i:..-i --!' t"i.,-.!. r .T'"'' "'' j I i.o-l Ii T -:■■■ li.-.-> .-.ail lor ]l„. ,|„,.. |'.'jr. uho wo'.il'l --.-on be in, and a- I

I talked I noticed liow ill the poor mite

.looked. The «irl wanted to toll me all (aliiitit l!o-ic. ami jn-t as -lie was de-a-rih--1 in« Hi.' throat, tlu. ilnor burst open, an I j Hubble- rushed in! I -hall lu-vor know I uliv hi. iliil it -hi- knew In. was breaking |tllr\:lil.-t I-llll' Hi' tllr llOllsC. I "(lii iiniiv, directly!" I died, lint tin' child ha.l li'i-anl tln-'la-t word-, ami in-

stead 11I' going, walked straight up In 1!..-i.' ami -uiil inquiringly: •• llavi' y.m got a ha.l tiu.UV I am

11.. -I I i-1.-i' id lh. ; little girl, -larinpr int..|illy at IIIT. hut I dragged him away, picked him up. ami mari-hcil him to tin' door.

" You're naughty, Bubble*." I said. " Von know you must never, never i-nnio ill here like that'."

1 dropped him in the hall, hut he i-lung to me ami whispered loud: ••Ha-tiuV, dear, let'.- pl.iv daddy with that little girl!" The verv idea made me shudder, though it seemed si. delightful to the hoy, and 1 turned away and left him I here. I had a sickening feeling thai "thai little "hi" was really very ill, and 1 eoiihln't l.ear to think thai. Unhides had heen near In 1. and had perhaps iuealheil her breath, and would be ill. too.

Well, niv feelino was a true one. Itosie had 'diphtheria, and a iortui»ht after that day. in -pile of every preeaiirion I for 1 fold Dr. Sinclair exru-tly what had happened), Hubbies had it, too. And then eanie an awful day and nijrht

in which the child'almost exhausted liim--elf by resisting every effort made to touch his throat. A pall .seemed to hang over the hou>se, for the lioy was dangerously ill, and wc all knew it. Then it was I wished 1 had never heard of Owen Sinclair—never let the child play with me in the surgery—for not one of us, Dr. Sinclair, his granny, Mrs. (jreen, or myself could persuade

him to let us paint his throat; coaxing*, entreaties, bribes, and threats were one and all Useless; his fixed idea was that onlv daddv could do it, and no one else ehould try-

How 1 hate the thought of that sense- ! le-s game 1 had invented! Jt had become reality 10 him. and he seemed to think me ijuite mad to attempt to come near him with a brush. Surely 1 understood ': All dav long a piteous cry for "daddv" could he"h-ard, and wh-n h'i- throat was 100 had for talking, that wa- the one wor.l he would try to nay. Somehow, by sheer force. Dr. Sinclair managed to get a little paint in the right spot, but he admitted it was so little that it was practically Useless. He uiue to me in the drawing-room, where I had wandered, to inistrably stare at the little face on the wall.

'• Hubbies will die." lie r-aid very quietly, "and—l ean't spare hi in. I'ray to Cod—r can't, hut you can—ask Him to s-'nd my son Owen home." I dared not look at him—his voice was not as steady as n»ual. and my ever* were full of tears. He went away, lack to Bubbles, I think, and ten minutes later 1 was walking through the liavh'elds at the back of the house.

I could do nothing indoors—there was no dispensing to bo done, for. rather than send the little patient away. Dr. Sin<!jir hail engaged a "locum to do his work, and the medicine* were made up at the chemist's.

| I thought I would crnss the )>ri<l«o at | l!u» bottom oi the fields. and walk by [ tin* little river. There I should be alone, for all the villagers were away on the other side, making nav, with no time for loitering, and 1, having come from an infected house, must be careful to keep away from everyone. My thought* were centred round Owen Sinclair; 1 thought bitterly, if prayers would bring him back, he would liave come yesterday or the day before. And yet lie might be in Westbury all this tune—i knew 1 had seen him once in the green lane. Suppose he were so hear, and yet iSubbles died because he didn't coiue? 1 walked on rapidly—l felt a* if a black demon hunted me. My foot Hicked agaiu-4 a sheet of paper as I passed, and mechanically I stooped to pick it up. It was covered with rough drawings—little sketches of what looked like parts of machinery—here and there were figure* and numbers, and some fine writing. 1 was still looking at it. when a shadow downed the paper, and someone said:

" Kxeiise me, but 1 think that is what I have just dropped." It was Hubbies' daddy! In my joy I grasped his arm. He recognised inc. "Come quickly," I said, without any preamble. "Come to your little boy. He will die if you don't." For 1 saw hesitation on his face. He turned without a word, and together we hurried through the lields and home.

I left him in the hall—he knew the old house better than I—and he went straight upstairs to where he guessed he would lind his parents. 1 shut myself in the surgery. Who could remember the past at such a time! Not Dr. or Mrs. Sinclair 1 felt certain, and 1 tl ought then, if only Hubbies grew we'.l again, perhaps his illness would prove a blessing. The door opened presently and Owen Sinclair came in.

"Will you be mjr good angel again?" be said, " and show me how to make the paint!" 1 sprang to my feet, and in a uiumeut had the little poison bottle from its corner, the scales ready, and the glycerine poured out. He was an apt pupil, though his lingers did seem to be mostly thumbs, and a great deal of a very precious drug was wasted.

But what did it mattery In U'li minults it was ready, and it the ckiid liim»«'lt liad been lucre, lie would have agreed with, uie thai it was daddy thai made it entirely!

Bubbles didu't die. Day aud night his father oat by his bedside, aud nursed him better than all oi us put together. The boy's approval aud delight were something too wouderiul for me to attempt to describe, and, when once the crisis was over, he grew strung rapidly, his one idea being to play in tiie garden with daddy, or drive with daddy, or, best of all, play the daddy-game in the surgery, with tlje original!' But Owen Sinclair was not born to be

a doctor, aud instead he drew wouderiul drawings for hit little boy, and showed him how engines worked, and gave hiiu an old one of his fur his owu.

Later on the very piece of machinery he had designed un that day 1 met him, and of which 1 had picked up the first sketch, was patented, and daddy's career, which I'm sure will land him at the top uf the engineering tree, was begun. He conhded in me that he had «o hated to feel how unworthy he was to l.e Bubbles' hero, that, from the day we nut iiL the druwiiig-rooni, he had thrown himself heart aud soul into his old studies, aud had huped that his possible success would be a way of reconciliation with his father.

1 duu't know anything about his pa t lit'i', e.iccpt thai lie liud found his wife -Nell, about a year after she kit him, touring with a provincial company, and

had persuaded her to come back to him Mie died a year later, so Bubbles neve knew his mother—and it was only oi tier dealh-IK-d that she lolil her hus'ban ol the birth of their little boy, lenviu, him in entire ignorance of the babv' wlien.Ml.oul-!

1 can't till ymi imicli about tlic old people either I mean jn-l how ihoy fell and what they did when their son «a- with them again -because at that time I kept out oi the way all 1 could, Inn their happy faces told a very true laic, I fancy; and as to Bubbles—no, it's no line, 1 can't describe Bubbles when itia daddy came back!