"John, we both quit and went South. I got a job in Texas, and the Kid
was lost sight of, and Mrs. J. E. Wainright appeared on the scene in
tea-gown, train, and flounces. We furnished a neat little den, and I was
happy. I missed my kid fireman, and did indeed have an Irishman. Kid had
a struggle to wear petticoats again, and did not take kindly to
dish-washing, but we were happy just the same.
"Our little fellow arrived one spring day, and then our skies were all
sunshiny for three long, happy years, until one day Kid and I followed a
little white hearse out beyond the cypress grove and saw the earth
covered over our darling, over our hopes, over our sunshine, and over
our hearts.
"After that the house was like a tomb, so still, so solemn, and at every
turn were reminders of the little one who had faded away like the
morning mist, gone from everything but our memories--there his sweet
little image was graven by the hand of love and seared by the
branding-iron of sorrow.
"Men and women of intelligence do not parade their sorrows in the
market-place; they bear them as best they can, and try to appear as
others, but once the specter of the grim destroyer has crossed the
threshold, his shadow forever remains, a dark reminder, like a
prison-bar across the daylight of a cell.
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