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Show little Sir Galahad fTK I A Story With a U "II I Blessing I R Jav r By PHOEBE GRAY j B w Copyright by Small, Maynard & Company SYNOPSIS. 6 "While trundltng the clean -washing up -Upper Hill Mary Alice Brown is set up-?n up-?n by some mischievous boys, who spill '.he washing into the dirt. She Is rescued nd taken to her home in Calvert street by Francis Willett, a Galahad knight, she Is punished by her drunken father for Returning without the wash money. Mary Alice wanders away from home, takes a trolley ride into the country and spends he night at the farmhouse of Sam Thomas. Thom-as. In the morning she meets little Charlie Char-lie Thomas, a cripple. Sam takes Mary Alice home and finds that he and Mrs. Brown are old acquaintances Sam takes her and Mary Alice to his home for a visit while Lem Brown, the drunken father, fa-ther, is serving a workhouse sentence. Charlie is made a Galahad knight. Francis Fran-cis visits the farm. i Do you know the value of f hardship in the formation of 4 character? Faith counts for so i I much in the performance of duty. ; f A sensible man can do pretty f I nearly as much as he thinks he I ? can that's faith in himself, f Mary Alice develops a faith in i f God, and she thinks that God I will give her the power to do ; j her work, no matter how big it ! i is. f l CHAPTER IV Continued. Francis Willett came out again, this time by himself. He arrived quite early in the morning and announced his intention of staying all day. The chauffeur set down a great basket of fruit by tbe side door before backing his car to the road. The children passed most of the forenoon in the orchard, talking of this and that, viewing the increasingly successful efforts of little Dick Brown to walk, discussing the honors and duties du-ties of a Galahad Knight. Francis showed his companions some marvelous marvel-ous feats of strength and agility, using a tree limb for a trapeze. After dinner, din-ner, when Charlie took his nap, Mary Alice and Francis wandered away from the house, along the old mill road leading to the pond. Here stood an ancient, long-idle gristmill. The log dam and the old mill seemed to sleep placidly among the elders. "This is awfully pretty, . don't you think so?" asked Mary Alice, as they stood at the end of the dam. "You bet it's pretty. Say, let's fish for shiners. Got a pin?" The boy produced a piece of string, cut a slim pole from a clump of yellow birches, caught a tiny grasshopper, and became at once a sportsman. The Bhiners were curious, but elusive. "Look out, Francis, you'll fall in," called Mary Alice; for her companion was creeping out along the dam. "This isn't dangerous. Come on. I'll let you fish. The shiners are bigger big-ger out here gracious, Mary Alice, here's a tremendous big something. I bet it's a trout. Come om out." But Mary Alice was timid. She stood on the bank and watched Francis Fran-cis interestedly. What a nice boy, she thought. He could do 'most anything; fie wasn't afraid. The old rotting planks along the top of the dam might crumble under foot and send him into the pond, but he went boldly on. The water in the flume was about ten feet deep. Francis reached the flume, whose lioxlike sides stood three or four feet higher than the dam. The boy drew l'ii iiimflfcHi ii iw-fci Her Arm Felt as If It Would Pull Out. himself up and sat comfortably upon a loose plank which lay across the flume. "Come on over here. Mary Alice," he called. "I can see lots of fish. Oh. look, I got one " ne jerked suddenly upon his pole. nd something shiny fluttered in the air at the end of his line. But the rotten rot-ten plank could not support so much excited, wrigglilfg boy and gave way. Mary Alice saw Francis' heels go up, and then he disappeared suddenly into the big bos. Mary Alice's heart gave a jump. She screamed, but that did no good. There was nobody to hear her. She could not run and bring help before Francis could drown. And she did not dare to go out on the treacherous old dam. One foolish word kept running through her head: "Gravity, gravity, gravity." Suddenly little Charlie Thomas' lovely love-ly oval face and big brave eyes floated into Mary Alice's mind. "Anybody that does the things God does can fix up a little pair of legs" Mary Alice stepped out on the shaky planking and began the passage of the dam. If she could get over to the flume, she could save the boy struggling strug-gling in the water. Anybody who could do the things that God did could help her to avoid the "holes and weaker places; she thrilled with that idea and was no longer afraid. Francis' fishing pole liad fallen upon the dam, alongside the flume box. Mary Alice picked it up; then she looked down into the flume, where it was so dark that her eyes, adjusted to the strong sunlight, at first refused t serve her. But she heard a cough and a splash. "Here I am, Francis," she called. She thrust the butt end of the fishing pole down into the gloom, through which now she dimly discerned a white face. Francis was a weak swimmer. His clothes and heavy shoes hampered him. The slippery sides of the flume box offered of-fered no sustaining hold. "Grab that," called Mary Alice. Francis grasped the fishing rod. "Now you won't drown." He clung to the fishing pole, keeping keep-ing only his head above water. Thus the water sustained most of his weight. "I could hold you like this a long time," said Mary Alice: "but who's goin' to pull you out? Besides, you'll be froze." Francis' teeth were chattering already. al-ready. "If I could get hold' of your hand, I might pull myself up the side," he said. Mary Alice leaned far over and extended ex-tended her right hand toward the boy, sliding it along the pole. Francis drew himself out of water and reached up until he caught her hand. The strain of his weight increased greatly as he lost the lift of the water. "Can you stand It?" he asked. "Come on," said the little girl, although al-though the edge of the flume was already al-ready cutting cruelly, and her arm felt as if it would pull out. '"Come on." She gritted her teeth. Anybody who could do the things God did could help a little girl keep her friend from drowning. "Come on, get your get your other other hand up there " Francis had now hold of both her arms, and the fishing pole bad dropped into the water. It was that -or nothing. As the boy pulled himself Tip, Mary Alice managed to seize his .coat. His feet kicked and slipped upon the smooth flume sides; there was no toe hold, no sufficient crack or protruding nail yes, a bolt with a nut on it caught the sole of Francis' shoe. This was about a foot under water. The boy put forth all his strength and pulled himself up until he could get a hand on the top edge of the flume wall. Mary Alice was sure her arms would part company with her shoulders. Now, relieved of that strain, she took a new grip on his wet coat . and tugged sturdily as be drew himself up until he could hook his elbows over the edge. Then he threw a leg across the top plank, and she knew she had saved him. Next morning, instead of being moved out into the orchard, Charlie asked that his chair be placed beside Mary Alice's bed; for the little girl was bruised and lame, and Martha insisted in-sisted that a day in bed would do her good. Mrs. Brown took Dicky out to see the "moolies." "I wish'd I could think of some-thin' some-thin' to do to amuse you, Mary Alice." said Charlie. "I can't read good enough. I know! I'll draw you some pitchers. Mummee!" "Yes, dear?" "Can I have a pencil and paper? I want to amuse Mary Alice." "I guess you'll amuse her. all right," said. Martha, producing the articles. "He draws just the cutest things, Mary Alice. Haven't you Been him do it yet? Well, you just watch." Charlie fell to work, his paper resting rest-ing on the hack of an old geography. "There," he said, "that's a cow." "Oh," said the invalid: "that's pretty good. Le's see you make a house, with a man and a dog goin' into it. with three strokes of your pencil." "Golly." said Charlie, "that's an old one; only I make him a soldier. That little crook makes the bay'net of his gun. Now I'll do you a engine." He went on. exemplifying his art to the great entertainment of his friend. Then he gave her a little sketch without with-out comment. "Who's that?" "Why, good gracious, it's Francis Willett It looks just like him: now do one of me." Charlie bent his brows and puckered his nose. He scrutinized the face on the pillow. "Turn to one side," he Bald. "1 have to make 'em all profiles. Goodness, Good-ness, Mary Alice, your nose is awful straight, and just a little curve makes your lips. Now, isn't that pretty? You're a turrible pretty girl, I guess. I never noticed It 'til I came to draw you." Mary Alice took the sketch. "Do I look like that? Really? Oh. it's lovely. Oh, Charlie, how'd you ever learn it? A little boy like you!" "I don't know, I just try it sometimes, some-times, when I feel like it. 'Most always al-ways I make 'em look awful nothin' like the folks at all. Then once In a while I get one that looks like this. I'm practicing quite a good deal; but a cow's horns is awful hard to get put on to his head where they belong, and when I try to make a kitty, it always looks like a dog. I'm glad you think this one of you is nice, and you can keep it to show how you looked when you were a little girl. Here's me." He produced a hideous caricature of himself, with prodigious ringlets, great staring eyes, and a wide mouth like a jack-o-lantern. "The boss says it looks exactly the way I do," he said. "Look at the curls. "There," He Said, "That's a Cow." Le's take yours and mine and have 'em framed together." "Don't, Charlie," protested Mary Alice; "I think you're horrid. You can make a lovely picture of yourself, I believe. be-lieve. Do it, will you?" "No," said the little boy, "I'd rather do somethln' interestin', like a duck or a a boy fallin' in the mill pond. See, Mary Alice, this is water, splashin'. And this is a fish." CHAPTER V. - - The Return of Lem. Mrs. Brown and the children went back to Sheffield on Sunday so that Monday morning work could begin early. She went out to work three days a week and on the other three did washings at home. It was the end of summer and school would soon begin; for another week or two Mary Alice could stay at home while her mother went out. After that a decisym must be made. Should Mary Alice forego further schooling for economic reasons and either Btay at home to enable Mrs. Brown to work out, or get a job herself her-self so that her mother could remain at home, doing such work as she could at her own tubs? The rent must be paid, Dicky must have milk. Mrs. Brown almost regretted the two weekj of idleness; she would have to work twice as hard to pay for them. One night Francis Willett met Mary Alice on Clipper Hill. As usual he took the wagon tongue from her hand and started to draw the load up the long slope. "I'm not comin' here any more," said Mary Alice. "Why not?" "And I've got a job; I'm goin' to work at Stacey's." "Oo, gee! You're goin' to work for Toots Stacey's dad? That's swell. I'd like to work in a store. How's Sir Charlie Thomas?" "I don't know. We came home the week after you boys were there." "Two weeks ago that was. Father's seen him since then." "Your father has?" "Sure. He drove out again to see Sam Thomas. He says he's goin' to have L'nele Billy Jackson look at Charlie's legs. He Isn't really my Fncle Billy he was father's college room-mate, and now he's a great doctor. doc-tor. My dad says Uncle Billy knows more about feet and legs and spines than anybody in the world he's a spe-ciallzer." spe-ciallzer." Mary Alice answered something very incoherent. Sudden tears blurred before her eyes. Suppose this great doctor should help Charlie? All tbe way up the hill she walked in silence by Francis Willett's side. "For goodness' sake, Mary Alice." the boy burst out, "why don't you talk? I never saw such a person as you." "Francis, would you do me a favor a real big favor?" "Bet I would. Didn't you save my life?" i i Do you remember your child- ? ? hood love affairs? The girls or i f boys you were "stuck on" from ' the time you were seven or eight i ? 'until you reached your early teens? (IO BE CONTINUED.) Dragging a congressman into a discussion dis-cussion is almost as difficult as teaching teach-ing a duck how to swim. |