Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 295, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 December 1913 — ESTHER’S PRODIGAL [ARTICLE]

ESTHER’S PRODIGAL

By CLARISSA MACKIE.

When Esther Trent’s Aunt Judith died and left her the little white house on the corner, Esther gladly left the home of her father, where a stepmother ruled supreme, and went to live alone • the little white house. Eather carried with her all the belongings of her own mother ps well as her girlish trinkets and keepsakes. In time the little old-fashioned parlor came to look exactly as had the parlor of her own home, even to the ancient square piano that filled one corner. , “For land’s sake, Esther, are you going to settle down here -and be a regular old maid?’’ demanded Loretta Camphell, who was prematurely gray and sewed for a living. Esther laughed. ' “I always wanted a home of my own, and if I waited till I got married, maybe I’d nev.er have one. I can be just as young living here as if I stayed at home.” “I don’t know, seems awful oldmaidy to me.” insisted Loretta; “just like my having white hair when I’m only thirty-five—seems as if I had to stop expecting to get married.” “I’m thirty-nine,” said Esther gently; “I don’t believe it’s any too young to set up housekeeping.” Loretta Campbell was thirty-nine, too, and she knew that Esther ’ aware of It, but she had a cheery boldness that carried her through very embarrasing situations. “I’m never going to be any older than thirty-five,” she said significantly. “Now, Esther, how you going to have this neck fixed? High or low?" After this Important item had been discussed and Loretta had returned to the sewing machine, the little dressmaker paused in her furious pedalling and turned her sharp face over her shoulder. . ' “Did you know Emmy Slocum was going to be married?” “Yes —some time this month, isn’t it?" “The nineteenth.” Then after a perceptible pause Loretta added: “I wofkder if Ed Slocum will come hanffi to the wedding?” “Im sure I don’t know.” “I heard they didn’t know what part of the world he was In,” pursued Loretta, now that the delicate topic was opened. “Indeed?’ “Yes. I heard his father told him he neqdnn’t never come home until he’d made enough money to pay back some of that he'd ill-spent. I call that pretty hard of old Jim Slocum —Pa says he was a limb when he was a boy aqd made no end of trouble for his folks—yet old Jim is hard as nails on poor Ed. Why, Ed can’t be a boy any longer—he must have stopped cutting up tricks long ago.” 1 Esther was silent. "Ed wasn’t what you’d call bad —he was just full of cutting up, but it seemed to cost his father a lot of money. Well, they drove him from home and I guess his ma broke her heart over It. I blame it all on old Jim Slocum —mean as all get-out!” “I wonder what Mr. Slocum will do after Emmy's married?” said Esther. “Nobody knows—Dexter won’t have him live with them —he’s as much as said so. Keep house for himself, I guess." “Why, he can’t do much. He’s real feeble —he must be seventy yqara old.” protested Esther. “Don’t seem to make any difference how old one Is—they get trouble just the same,” remarked Loretta. After Loretta had gone home that night, Esther washed up the supper dishes and then sought her little parlor, where she lighted the lamp with the dangling prisms and sat down by the marble top table. For a long time slfe sat lost in reverie.- She was thinking, of old Mr. Slocum so soon to be left alone. She, was thinking of the prodigal, Ed, who had run away from home twenty years before. She looked back on her own girlish grief over that event as one reads the story of a stranger. Once she had sat in the parlor at home, when Ed Slocum used to call upon her three times a week, just as she was sitting now. Then she was waiting for him with fluttering heart and eyes, that Were tell-tale. How .handsome Ed was—black-haired, blackeyed, light-hearted—the best fellow in the world, and it was this very easygoing nature of Ed’s that had led him - astray. She still treasured the hasty note in which he had taken leave of her. It seemed to be the delicate rosy thread that held her to her youth and hope. Some day come back. Some day he would return. He had loved her. Esther’s brown head drooped a little wearily at these sad memories, but. she was a brave soldier and she lifted her chin and took up the photograph album and turned to Ed’s picture placed there opposite that of her mother. Her eyes were dim when she laid it aside. "He’s my poor prodigal just the same,” she murmured to herself as she blew out the light and went upstairs to bed. Two weeks after that Emmy Slocum was married, and all Leavenmill was interested in the masculine housekeep* Ing of Mr. James Slocum. Of outside help he would have none. Emmy and her husband had gone west, and the prosperous Dexter had offered to pay the wages of a housekeeper for his father-in-law, but Mr. Slocum had eurtly refused. Ono December day Esther met old

James Slocum hobbling toward ‘ nomei carrying a heavy basket of groceries. "Can’t I help you. Mr. Slocum?" she asked tinddly. . -■» “No, thank you, Esther—when I can’t carry my own bundles it’ll be time for me to lay down and die,” he said, not, unkindly. “I’m sorry you are all alone,” ventured Esther, feeling very sorry for the harsh old ffian who had driven his son from his door, and whose* daughter had left him to make a home for herself. 7 / „ “’Taln’t any matter!” muttered Jim; then, with a sudden change of tone he added in a broken voice: “ *Tls some matter—Esther, I’d like to see my Ed before I die!” Tears came into Esther’s brown eyes. “Of course you would,” she said gently. “Have you any idea where he is now?" .“No —I reckon he’s dead,” said the old man drearily. ' . “What makes you think that?” “I ain’t heard from him for a long while. Last time there came a letter, it was for my wife—he didn’t know she was dead, and if just cut out the newspaper notice of her death and wrapped it around the letter and sent ’em to the address on the outside of the envelope. Some place in Kansas —and I’ve never heard a word since, and that seven years ago—but I. think he’s been here —I think he keeps track of us.” “What makes you think so?” “One Sunday Emmy and I went to the cemetery to my wife’s grave and it was covered with beautiful white flowers—like "nothing that grows hereabouts—and ever since then on her birthday there’s always white flowers on the grave. Emmy and I don’t know, but we guess Eddie did it It hurts me, Esther, that he’s afraid toemeet me face to face.” He sighed heavily. “If he only knew, Mr. Slocum, I am sure he would cdfce.” “We can’t find him, Esther. I can’t remember the name of that Kansas town and there came a wedding present for Emmy—a beautiful set of knives and forks. There was no name attached and the postmark on the box was blurred. We could only guess it was from Eddie.”" It was after that that Esther Trent took upon herself a mighty task. She bought postal cards* by the dozen and on each one wrote an appeal to Edward Slocum to return to his aged father, who needed him. These she sent to many towns and cities in the state of Kansas, in the hope that she might by chance strike upon the place where Ed Slocum made his home. These postal z cards she carried to the postoffice in the next village. Weeks passed and there came no response to Esther’s anonymous appeal. There had been one town which bore her own name, “Esther,” and she had cherished a fluttering hope‘that Fate might decree that there was magic in the name of his old sweetheart. No news came from her dear prodigal, and at last Esther gave up hope and turned her attention to making James Slocum as comfortable as he would permit her. There was not much to do, for the old man was proud; he had plenty of money to keep him in comfort. One bitter night when James Slocum, almost helpless from an attack of rheumatism; had been compelled to accept Esther’s aid, the Slocum kitchen was aglow with warm light from the stove. Esther was moving around bent on household tasks, and Mr. Slocum, his helpless foot propped oa a chair, was reading by thd light of a green shaded lamp. The supper dishes were washed, and Esther had prepared,the old mah’s bed in the little room off the kitchen. She untied her apron and reached up to the hook for her knitted shawl when there came a knock at the door. Esther answered it to admit a slencfer, erect man, whose sparkling black eyes searched her face eagerly and then darted to the wrinkled face.pl the old man. “Father!” cried the man, and he went past his old sweetheart and knelt beside James Slocum. It war several moments before the old man could command his voice to speak. "Son,” he said, “it was Esther Trent who brought you back.” “I know it, father,” said Ed humbly,. But when they looked around Esther had disappeared. “Never mind. I’ll go around after her In a little while,” said Ed. are a few things that must (be discussed first —and I want your biasing, father.” Esther was putting out the light when there came a ring at her / doorbell. Trembling in every limb she turned up thewick of the parlor lamp and went to the front door. Ed Slocum stood there; his keen, eager face upturned to hers. “May I come in, Esther?” he asked. Esther smiled tremulously. What could she say to him after all these, years of waiting? Within the little parlor, familiar because it held so many well remembered things, Ed Slocum's face worked strangely. At last he held out his hands to Esther. “Esther, I’ve meant to come back all these years; I've kept myself straight for you and mother. I—l went to a place In Kansas—l picked it out because Its name was the same as yours, and your postal card reached me at last. I thought they didn’t w®t me here, and I stayed away, but when the card came, I knew. I disposed of my business. I am here. Are you going to welcome the prodigal son?” Ho smiled down wistfully, at her. * l -. “I knew you would come back some day,” whispered Esther, her head oa his shoulder. (Copyright, WU, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicated