eye."

"Yep, she was on the warpath all day after I mentioned it. How
much did you give her for it?"

"Six dollars."

"Robbery--it ain't worth it," Tom groaned. "It's all cracked at
one end and as old as the hills."

"I'd have given ten dollars for it. I'd have given 'most anything
for it, Tom. It was mother's, you know. I remember it in her room
when she was still alive."

In the woodshed Tom resurrected the hidden treasure and took off
the wrapping paper. Appeared a rusty, steel-scabbarded saber of
the heavy type carried by cavalry officers in Civil War days. It
was attached to a moth-eaten sash of thick-woven crimson silk
from which hung heavy silk tassels. Saxon almost seized it from
her brother in her eagerness. She drew forth the blade and
pressed her lips to the steel.

It was her last day at the laundry. She was to quit work that
evening for good. And the next afternoon, at five, she and Billy
were to go before a justice of the peace and be married. Bert and
Mary were to be the witnesses, and after that the four were to go
to a private room in Barnum's Restaurant for the wedding supper.
That over, Bert and Mary would proceed to a dance at Myrtle Hall,
while Billy and Saxon would take the Eighth Street car to Seventh
and Pine. Honeymoons are infrequent in the working class. The