Came his cronies; some to gaze
Rapt in wonder; some
Free with counsel; some with praise;
Some with envy dumb.
"May he," many a gossip cried,
"Be from peril kept;"
Father hid his face and sighed,
Mother turned and wept.
A Workingman's Home-Life
(From "The Ragged-Trousered Philanthropists")
By Robert Tressall
(The life-story of an English house-painter who died of consumption,
leaving behind him a manuscript portraying the pitiful lives
of the half-starved English artisans. Published in book form, it
proved to be one of the literary events of the year 1914)
"Hark!" said the mother, holding up her finger.
"Dad!" cried Frankie, rushing to the door and flinging it open.
He ran along the passage and opened the staircase door before Owen reached the top of the last flight of stairs.
"Why ever do you come up at such a rate?" exclaimed Owen's wife reproachfully, as he came into the room exhausted from the climb upstairs and sank panting into the nearest chair.
"I al—ways—for—get," he replied, when he had in some degree recovered.
As he lay back in the chair, his face haggard and of a ghastly whiteness, and with the water dripping from his saturated clothing, Owen presented a terrible appearance.
