The Re-Creation of Brian Kent

de out of sight, Auntie Sue turned slowly back into the hou

silently looking at each other. Then Auntie Sue nervously crossed the room to lay th

followed her, watching

untie Sue stood, still speechless, cla

ve sure fixed hit this here time, hain't you? Can't you-

e Sheriff an' that there deteckertive man. I was plumb scared to death a-listenin' ter you through the crack in the kitchen door. I 'lowed every minute they'd ketch you, sure. My Lord-A'mighty! ma'm, can't you-all figger what'll happen ter weuns if they ever finds out that weuns done had him hid right here in this here hous

a thing before," said Auntie Sue in a tremul

f man. Just look what he did ter my pap! He's jailed pap seven times, that I kin rec'lect. God-A'mighty kno

Auntie Sue. "It seemed as if I simply could n

continued reviewing the situation: "An' jus

uestioned

'd a-been as much, maybe, as what was in that there letter you-all done sent ter the bank an' ain't never heard tell of

pirit suddenly flashed

est such a wicked thing? Why, I would-I would-DIE be

tood silent and abashed bef

emember, we must be more careful than ever, now, not to let any one-not

how the feller's name was Brian Kent,

name is Brian Burns, and you had better remember it! You had better remember, too, that if

orgit that," replied the humbled Judy

ted. Had he heard? The Sheriff's voice had been so loud. She feared to enter, yet she knew that she must. At l

ce to the wall,-to all

r whom, without a shadow of reason,-one would have said,-she had vi

nd that to save a man of whom she knew nothing except that he was a fugitive from the law. And the strangest thing about it was this, that she was glad. She could not feel one twinge of regret for her sin. She could not even feel that she had, indee

currents, amid which the individual must live;-the river symbolized, as truly, the individual life, with its ever-changing moods and motives,-its ever-varying and often-conflicting

honesty and truthfulness and law and justice? And this stranger,-this wretched, haggard-faced, drunken creature, who had been brought by the mysterious currents of life to her door,-what was there in him

's life-long habit should lead her to kneel beside the stranger's bed and pray for under

r head still bowed. The hand that touched so reverently the silvery gray hair trembled a little. Slowly, the old teacher raised her face to loo

ed. "You wonderful, wonderf

r knees to sit beside hi

ad, not trusting

Sheriff talked t

you do it?"

her little chuckling laugh. Then she added, seriously: "How could I let

, sadly, "that what the detect

e answere

e money,-for nearly a year I stole,-not large sums, but a little at a time. Then,

said Au

I am a thief?" he qu

e all right. Your being a thief is so small in comparison with other things which you might have been, but which you

,-my condition when-

l. THAT was something that the accident of your being a thief did to you,-l

, when he is caught, says the same thing; but I really never wanted t

ike?" asked Aun

d his fac

circumstances' nearly always mean a wom

. "Some day, perhaps, when I am further awa

eason, brought a flush of pleasure

returned. "I only wanted you to know that, ev

went to attend to her s

ewspaper which Sheriff Knox had given her. Judy had retired to her room,

making some little repairs in the way of darning and buttons. She had finished, and was putting her needle a

Empire Consolidated Savings Bank, and gave, so far as was then known, the accumulated amount which he had taken. The dishonest clerk had employed several methods in his operations; but the particular incid

e's hand. Mechanically, she finge

that way; but, this money was in Argentine notes. Her brother from far-away Buenos Aires had sent it to her, saying that it would help to keep her during the closing years of her life; and she had ad

mbled so she scarce could distinguish t

he had told him her name, and she seemed to hear him say,

;-whom she had nursed through the hell of delirium tremens;-whom she had yearned over as over her own son, and for whom, to save from the just penalty of his

ch loving care, with the rest of Brian Kent's clothing, on the nea

ng bright and clear, and she could see the river where it made its dark, mysterious way between the walls of shadowy h

e shining worlds are scattered in such lavish profusion, she listened, listened to the river that, with its countless and complex currents, swept so irresistibly onward along the way that was set for it by Him who swung those star-worlds in the limi

, she took the garments in her arms and pressed th

d in that darkened chambe

leeping companions in the house might not hear her, she went to the kitchen, the paper in her han