Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 138, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 June 1912 — An Intermediary [ARTICLE]

An Intermediary

By Nellie Cravey Gillmore

(Copyright, Ml 2; by Associated Literary Press.)

After an hour’s attention to the flying landscape, Billy’s interest abruptly collapsed and his curly brown bead sagged against the brown plush corner of the seat. He was roused suddenly by the sound of a voice—it sounded very close —addressing his pretty young mother just opposite. . “Anything I can do for yon or the kiddie? I’m going Into the smoker for a little—” ; Billy sat up and rubbed his eyes. He turned them eagerly toward his mother’s face; then up to the pleasantlooking man who had addressed her. “Want to go, youngster?” Mrs. Harcourt shook her head and smiled. “You musn’t annoy Dr. Steel, Billy. I’m afraid—” “Oh, that’s all right. Come along. We’ll have a change of scene, eh, kid?” Mrs. Harcourt cast an appreciative glance into the doctor’s kindly gray eyes, and when they had disappeared hand in hand, she leaned back with a half sigh against the cushion, her lids drooping wearily. Dr. Steel found. Billy a comfortable seat on the arm of a great chair near the window and was soon immersed in the animated political discussion he had temporarily interrupted by his entrance. Presently, one. of the men, having “had his say,” withdrew and sat down In the big chair by Billy. “Hey—what’s your name, little fellow?” he asked, pinching the plump leg that dangled over his shoulder. “William,” was the dignified rejoinder. ---■ ' —- “That your papa over there?” “Oh no. That’s only Dr. SteeL I haven’t any papa. Have you any little boys?” “Yes —one.” Billy was too young to notice the tone and he laughed and clapped his hands. “I’m so glad. We can play together. Is he here?” “No. William; he Isn’t here. He—he’s at home you know. I haven't seen him for a long, long time. I suspect he’s such a big man now I’d hardly know him." “Do you live in New York, too?” “I used to. I live mostly in hotels now and on railroad trains. I’m what you’d call a ‘knight of the grip’—Just a plain old everyday drummer." “But you come to New York sometimes? You’re going there now, aren’t you? Perhaps you’ll bring your little boy to see me one of these days!” “I hope so. Who knows? That would be great fun, wouldn’t it?” “Bully. Is he as big as me?" “He’s seven.” "Do you know any good stories?" Somewhat to the stranger's -surprise, Billy suddenly slid from his perch to the man’s knee. “Tell me one,” he wheedled. But at this juncture Dr. Steel rose tc go and Billy ruefully took leave of his new friend. Tho latter watched him out of sight with dreamy, wistful eyes. A little sigh escaped him. The clouds, briefly dispelled by Billy's bright chatter, returned to his face. He rested his chin in one hand and gazed wearily through the rain-streak-ed window.

"Am I very badly hurt, Mamma?” Mrs. Harcourt bent and kissed the small, flushed face above the cover; “Your arm Is broken, dear. It will be tedious, but you il be all right in the end. Dr. Steel gave you some ether and eet it nicely.” Billy closed his eyes drowsily. Suddenly he opened them wide and looked around. “Where are wo, anyhow? I don’t remember anything that’s happened since—since we ran Into the freight train. Mamma, I wonder if that nice gentleman we saw In the smoker was killed?” “No one was killed; some of the passengers were very badly Injured though. Perhaps we might ask Dr. Steel?” “I wish he’d hurry up and come. Mamma,” he asked abruptly, “why haven’t I any papa—like other little boys?” “You—we lost him, Billy. Let’s not .talk about it now. Walt till we get back home. Some day I’ll tell you all about it.” "When will we get back home?” he insisted. —rt—"ln a few days, I think. Meanwhile we must be satisfied to stay here. This is a country hotel about a mile from where the wreck took place. I think we shall be very comfortable — ah! here you are now, Doctor. Billy Is very much concerned about a gentleman he saw In the smoking-room—” “Laid op. kiddle —badly bruised. Nothing serious, though; I expect he'll be out tomorrow." ' “And you’ll bring him to see me? He knows some stories and —” "Yes. yes; certainly. By the way, he was inquiring about you: *tbe little tad’ be called you." Billy’s fees rippled. And presently be slept. / -V/s-r' ’i's ; V' *-'X. Dr. Steel came early the following morning. "I think you need a hit of fresh air," he said to Mm. Harcourt,

"would yon care to walk down ths road? Billy's pal ia on bis feat today and be will gladly come In and sit with him for a half hour. Corns, what do you say?" - --M Mrs. Harcourt glanced dubiously toward the cot. “Shall I, dearie T’ she asked. “O, please do—ls the nice gentleman will come and talk to me!” And so Billy’s mother rather reluctantly donned coat and bat and went down on the piazza to wait for Dr. Steel. When the stranger came In. Billy was propped up on snowy pillows, his eager, flushed face turned expectantly toward the door. “Well, well, little man, this won’t do at all What—a broken arm? And what do you think is the best cure for a thing like that, eh?” He fished a square white box from his pocket as he spoke and displayed It to Billy’s curious gaze. “Marshmallows. But only a dozen at a time, you know," he cautioned. “You’re going to tell mo the story now, aren’t you?” he questioned anxiously. The other sat down by the cot; drew a deep breath, nodded and began: “Once upon a time there was ths most beautiful little home you ever could dream of —all green and white and pink and gold with roses, in summer. There were great velvet lawns reaching down to a hedge in front, and great, broad fields at the back, full of big, gnarled old trees that hoys love to climb and a little amber creek running through, for boys to go swimming In. There were cows and horses and cats and dogs— ’’ Billy’s steady glance gave a flicker of suddfen delight “And a Shetland pony like Jim Bailey’s?’’ he interrupted breathlessly. “Yes; a little spotted pony—for my boy.” The words slipped out unguardedly, but he hit his lip and went on: “But one day something happened—it was little aid trivial, It wasn’t really anything—but it broke tip everything. The little boy’s mamma went away to live with h§r people^—and his papa went away by himself." "I’m so sorry.” The moisture gathered in Billy’s eyes and ran in crystal tracks down his cheeks. All at once he looked up and said earnestly: “I wish I was your little boy!” The stranger laughed heartily and reached over and patted his chubby hand. “Do you really?” he asked. Billy nodded. “Tell me another story,” he begged. “That one didn’t have the right ending.” The other took out his watch. “I wish I had the time, but I’m afraid It’s getting too late. You see I must catch that down coming train; I hear the doctor and your mamma coming now, and I’ll run across the hall and pack my grips.” “Wait till they come, please. I want you to —Mamma!” he Interrupted himself, “hurry up and come see the bjee, gentleman. He’s going away on the train and you might not get another chance.” Mrs. Harcourt entered the room with cheeks glowing from her brisk walk in the biting morning air; her eyes shone as they rested on Billy’s beaming face. She turned a smiling glance to greet Billy’s "nice gentleman.” She half expected to see a battered old hero of two wars with apple cheeks and silver hair. What she really saw was a man just verging on the prime of life —talk bFoad-sttoul» dered, strikingly good-looking. ■ “Will!” The name broke in a little quiver from her white, trembling lips. The stranger took a quick step forward ; hts own face had grown white. But the old smile, vivid and compelling. leapt to his lips. Ia silence he held out his arms. In silence she went to him and he held her there, as though he would never let her go. Suddenly they remembered and turned to Billy. But only the outlines of a tiny form appeared beneath the close-ly-drawn sheets. * v*Billy understood.