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Show t Did Not Want f Liberty By JAMES BLACK T (. lm, Wului Ntwipapw Union.) uVTUU'KK a fsee man. 3923. The governor has pardoned you." T,ho trowel fell from the old convict's con-vict's hand. The wui'den's fuee wavered before bis eyes. His hopes of thirty yeurs come true at lust I Thirty years had passed since his sentence of death had been commuted to one of life imprisonment He hud killed in hot blood over the 'woman he hud murrled, who had proved faithless faith-less to him. That w as why they commuted com-muted his sentence. And for thirty yeurs he had dreamed of this duy. For ten years past he had been a trusty, in charge of the penitentiary greenhouse. He had done wonders with It made It an asset to the penl-tentiury. penl-tentiury. He hud forgotten It now. "I don't know who'll look after the greenhouse, Blake," said the warden. "Blake 1" Yes, he was Blake. He had almost forgotttn that "What are you going to dot" "Get a Job,; I suppose." Whut difference differ-ence did it make to him J He had no one left now no one. On the following day Blake, at- tired In a new blue suit, with a considerable con-siderable sum In his pocket departed for his old town. But it had changed beyond recognition, recogni-tion, the whole quarter where he had lived had been pulled down, everything every-thing wus different He stared In astonishment as-tonishment at the high buildings. And the motor cara they weut so fasti They went so fast that the end of the day found hun an Inmate of the town hospital, with a crushed rib and dislocated shoulder. As he had money, he was given a private room. A month later, when he was discharged, he found he had Just nine dollars in the world. All the rest had gone for the room and attendance. With the nine dollars he took a ticket buck to the penltentlury town. That was more like home to him. For three nights and days he roamed the streets. Who would give work to an old man with wild eyes and disjointed speech? And then the great resolve was born In him. The penitentiary greenhouse, which was barred on the Inside at night projected out of a corner of the grim building, so as to catch the sunlight. And Blake knew all about that structure of steel and glass. It was only to get a foothold on the brick bnse and pull up the catch of the side window that admitted air. The next night found him Inside the place. The moon was shining brightly. He uttered a cry. It wai all going to ruin. Nobody had watered any of his flowers since his departure. The begonias were shedding their leaves, ' those polnsettlas which he had been raising for the warden's wife were all drooping. The ferns were dying In the dried pots. And ruthless hands had cut away all the flowering African lilies that he had prtred so much. Forgetful of everything else, Blake set to work. He attached the hose, he sent streams of water over all the pots. He made cuftlncs and planted them In a little of that fine, soft sand that still Remained. He pruned, he gathered dead leaves and piled them In a corner to make compost The sun came up and found the old man hard at work. He labored on, forgetful of the passage of time. Now those peonies, In which he had taken such pride The warden and the chief keeper found him kneeling In a pool of muddy water, busy at work. A glance at the open window told them all. The warden stepped forward and touched the old man on the shoulder. Blake looked up and uttered a startled cry. "For God's sake don't send me away 1 I couldn't get work. I felt like committing com-mitting another murder to get back hcrel" "Blake, this Is lucky for both of us," the warden said. "The commissioners commis-sioners were talking of trylns to get a man from outside to take charge of the greenhouse. None of our men are able to. How would you like the Job?" A slow smile dawned over old Blake's face. ' "Like It?" he stammered. "Warden, I believe I'll have some better polnsettias poln-settias for your wife than ever." |