Jasper County Democrat, Volume 19, Number 103, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 March 1917 — Then I'll Come Back to you [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Then I'll Come Back to you

By Larry Evans

OF ONCE TO EVERY

SYNOPSIS Caleb Hunter and his sister Sarah welcome to their home Stephen O Mara, a homeless and friendless boy, starting from the wilderness to see the city. Stephen O’Mara catches a glimpse of Barbara Allison. The girl is rich. The O’Mara boy falls in love with her. She la ten, he fourteen. Tne boy and girl are in a party thaj go to town. The old people watch with concern the youth’s growing attachment for th e girt Caleb is much impressed with the boy’s ideas on the moving of timber. He predicts a great future for the lad. Jhere was a seething pack of children around two writhing figures upon the ground; they were all shrieking in soprano panic—all save Garry Dever

eau. He, standing a little to one side, was smiling his queer, crooked, handsome smile, while Stephen O’Mara mauled the Honorable Archibald Wickersham with true riverman thoroughness, which meant the infliction of the greatest possible damage in the least possible time. It grew very quiet when Caleb whirled the boy around and stood peering sternly down into his battle streaked features. Allison strode quietly up in that moment. “Well?”x Caleb didn’t know just how to begin, but his voice was cold. “Well, young man; can you explain just what this means?” “Nothin’—nuthin’ much,” Steve replied, “only we was goin’ to play King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. He wanted to be her knight”— an uncomplimentary thumb indicated the Hon. Archie—“and—and so did I.” This time his eyes went to Barbara, who was listening, her teeth sunk in / < her lip. “He wanted to be her knight, wn’—nn’ he ain’t got no call to be, because in case of trouble or anything he couldn’t purtect her. He couMmt fight good enough to take good keer o'., her, because I kin fight better. I—l just licked him to prove it” “But in the days when knighthood was in flower, Steve,” Caleb explained ponderously, “the —the fair ladies always chose their own knights, didn't they?”

And just then the little girl, her eyes twin shafts of searing scorn, curled her lips at him and fairly spat out the words in her shaking rage. • “You —you—my knight?” she half whispered. And she turned her back and went solicitously, toward Archie and his rumpled clothes. Even Allison stopped smiling, even Devereau forgot his • curious amusement at the livid change which dime over Steve's face with that answer which she flung at him. The boy fell away a step before her fierce little visage; he crooked one arm over the cheek where her fists had beaten the • skin pink a moment before. And then her meaning struck him like a blow between the eyes. ■ ' “‘I ain't good enough to be your knight, am I?” he accused her in a hushed and vibrant voice. “I—l don’t know enough, ner I can’t talk good enough to be your knight. I ain’t good enough fer you. But I’m a-gojn’ to be —do you hear? I’m a-goin’ to be. An’ when I am—when I am—then I’ll come back to you!” • . ‘ This time, rigid as a lance,Tie disap- ! peared from sight. Caleb stood ing at the ground. Allison stood and atared.at the horizon. Steve did not come downstairs for supper that night, and when he failed to appear at the breakfast hour both Caleb and Sarah mounted to his room, fear in their hearts. The bed had not

oeen siepc in. The sheets were not even disarranged, but there was a scrap of paper pinned to one pillowy slip. It wasn’t written in “book language,”' that short message, for it was not his grain, but his heart which had phrased it: Fm a-comin’ back—l’m cornin’ back to you some day when they won’t be no need fer you to be ashamed fer me. I’m takin’ my new clothes with me because I knowed you would a-wanted me to —and the shoes too. I’m askin’ you to take keer of ole Samanthy til I come fer her—and Miss Sarajp ain’t got ho call to worry, fer I could always take keer o’ myself. It was signed “Stephen O’Mara.” Sarah’s face went white when she had read it through. Her knees weakened under her, and she had to sit down. “Why, Cal—why, Cai, he s—he’s gone!” she quavered. And Caleb nodded down into her stricken face. “Yes, he—he’s gone!” he breathed. Sarah swallowed hard. Then two bright tears crept out from under her eyelids and went coursing down her cheeks. She rose and groped her way to her own room. ■Caleb found Barbara Allison waiting in the living room when he, still numb from the shock, went back downstairs. She came up to him and stood a moment, twining the fingers of one hand within those of the other. “I want to see Stephen, please. Uncle Cal,” she faltered. Caleb drew a deep and unsteady breath. “StevC isn’t here, Barbara," he said as gently as he could. The child didn’t understand. “Father sent me over to apologize,” she explained slowly. “I’m to tell him that I’pa sorry. But I—l want to tell him, too, that if I couldn’t have him for my knight I—l wouldn't ever have any knight at all!” Caleb felt a tightening at his throat which made speech difficult. “But Steve has gone away,” he managed to gulp. A shadow came into the big dark eyes lifted to his. “He’ll be back for breakfast, won’t he?” she asked hopefully. “I’m afraid not, Barbara. I’m afraid now that he may never come back—again.” v She didn’t understand what he meant at first, so Caleb tried to explain. But when his voice broke and trailed off into a husky whisper there was no further need of explanation. She ran then and threw herself in a passion of tears upon a window seat in the corner. Caleb found his chair. And after a time he felt a small hand touch nis sleeve; he felt a wet cheek pressed tight to his own. “Oh, don’t you feel so badly, jtoo, Uncle Cal,” Barbara sobbed. “Ptease, please! Because he is coming Back! He told me he would; he told me he would himself!” (To be continued.)

"Why, Cal—why, Cal, he’s—he’s gone!” she quavered.

O'Mara Mauled the Honorable Archibald Wickersham.