THAT LOTTERY TICKET.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume V, Issue 44, 1 November 1890, Page 16

THAT LOTTERY TICKET.

N one those cities where lottery tickets are Sfc-jjTV bought and sold without either shame or secrecy, a crowd of persons had ranged theni- •»!&. selves before a large window, in which, by a curious mechanical arrangement of some sort, ft.” jp a series of numbers began to appear, one after b-g'/b the other— 4s - 87 > 43 °- S Bs ’ 740 ’ and so oniw \ The window was protected from those with- “ out by a strong iron railing, breast high. To this a slender young girl was clinging with both hands. Every now and then some one pushed her violently from one side or the other, and the pressure upon her delicate shoulders frequently became painful, but nothing could force her to move from the spot.

A young man, who was also watching the numbers with deep interest, noticing this, quietly placed himself so that his arm and shoulder protected her from the crowd. He did this quietly and without even looking at her ; but she was aware of it, and lifting her eyes of baby-blue to his face, said, very gently : ‘ Thank you so much, sir.’ The ciowd increased. The girl, worn with fatigue, apparently ready to drop, ■clung to the railings. ‘ My father has drawn a blank again,’ she sighed suddenly, and burst into tears. The next moment the number 9999 appeared in the window. ‘lf 1 am not insane,’ said the young man, ‘ I have drawn a tenth of the capital prize. ’ ‘ If I could but get out of this crowd,’ ■said the young girl. ‘ I’ll help you,’ said the young man. In a moment he had pushed his way through the throng and stood in the purer -air beyond it, with the girl at his side. ■She was trembling and sobbing. ‘ You must think me very silly,’ said she, ‘ but my father has been buying lottery tickets all his life, and hopes at last to make his fortune. This time he was sure. He has a system of numbers. He bought whole ticket, a five-pound ticket, and now we shall be turned out of our house, and -what will happen Heaven knows.’ ‘ I have bought the tenth of the principal priz i ; one thousand pounds is coming to ■me,’ said the young man. ‘ I can’t believe it. It will give me a new start in life. Don’t go, miss—wait a moment. Tell me .about your father. Is he old ?’ ‘ Yes,’ sighed the girl, ‘ very old ; and my mother, who is much younger, is an invalid, and there are four children. I ought not to talk to a stranger about all this, but nny heart was so full.’ Meanwhile she walked on, and the lucky holder of the fortunate ticket kept pace with her.

‘ I cannot bear to tell father,’ she said, stopping at the door of a dingy little yellow frame house. At this moment an anxious face framed in white hair appeared at the parlour window. ‘lt is father watchingfor me,’ said the girl. An emotion of supreme pity suddenly filled the young man’s soul. ‘ Young lady,’ said he, ‘ will you give me your father’s name ?’ ‘ My father is Mr Orrin Palmer,’ replied the girl. ‘He was once a well-known •merchant. If he failed, it was honourable.’ ‘ Tell Mr Palmer that you met a fortuneteller,’ said the young man, ‘ who told you that in three days the lottery would indirectly bring him a slice of good luck. Kemember, lam sure of it. Good-day.’ The girl looked after him with wide open eyes as she put the pass-key, which she •drew from her nocket, into the key-hole, and to temper the news she brought, she ■gave the message to her father. The old man —nearer his dotage than those about him guessed—seized at the straw held out to him, with avidity. ‘ That means something,’ he sail!. It meant this. When the lucky winner ■of the portion of the prize drawn by 9999 had cashed his ticket, he took from the sum of £l,OOO, the other sum of £lOO, wrapped it in a paper, and late at night knocked at the door of the little yellow house. The old man opened it himself, holding a tin candlestick, in which Hared a miserable tallow candle, above his head.

‘ Who is there ?’ he asked. • I am the capital prize of the lottery drawn three <iays ago,’ said the lueky man, in deep and affected tones, ‘ and I think you ought to have a slice of me. ’ Then he thrust the package into the hand of the old man and ran away. The one hundred pounds seemed to the recipient to have come from Heaven. The girl with the blue eyes knew that they came from the impulse of a generous man in luck. She ha<l seen him from the window and recognised him. That night, without knowing his name, she prayed for him with the fervour of one who believed that prayers will l>e heard. Meanwhile, without even pausing to buy himself the garments he so sorely needed, the young man had walked to a railway station in the city, paid his fare, and was whisked away to a little country place, some fifty miles distant, where in the dawn of the morning he walked across the fields, sparkling with dew, and along a road bordered with

golden-rod and neptune’s trident, until he came to-an iron gate set in a stone wall, which inclosed the garden of a curious,old-fashioned mansion, probablya hundred yearsold. Opening the gate, he walker! up the path between the Hower borders and knocked at the door. After some delay an old woman, with the sleeves of her calico dress rolled up and a large crash apron on opened the door. On seeing him, she lifted her hands, rolled up her eyes, and cried out: ‘ Why, Arthur Berryl, is this you?’ Her tone was not particularly cordial, and her glance ran over his person, taking in the items of his dress, and ending at his boots with a little groan. ‘ Come in,’ she said, solemnly. ‘ I’ncle and me is in the back kitchen eating breakfast, and no doubt you’ll find some acceptable.’ ‘ I am hungry, Aunt Doble,’ replied Arthur, ‘ and I am glad to accept your invitation.’

The old woman sighed again and led the way to a low hung room, garnished with tin utensils as bright as silver, and copper kettles that shone like gold, where a table was set with old ‘ willow pattern ’ dishes placet! on a cloth as white as snow, and an old man stood before the fire stirring a mush pot. He was more genial than his wife, for he said : ‘ Why, how d’ye do, Arthur ?’ and smiled as he offered his hand. The old woman, meanwhile, had brought another plate and cup and saucer anti took her place behind the tea tray, and at this moment Arthur put his hand into his pocket and tlrew out a leather pouch, from which he took a quantity of bills and silver and laid them on the table. ‘ Aunt Doble,’ he said, ‘ yon told me.when I was here last that I would never have a pound to my name. There are nine hundred all my own. What do you think ot that ?’

‘Seems to me I must be dreaming,’ said Mrs Doble. ‘ Where did you get it, Arthur ?’ ‘ Lucky speculation,' said Arthur. ‘Well, some folks do get along that way,’ the old man said. ‘ I’m afraid of speculation ; but you seem to have hit the right nail on the head this time. I hope you’ll do well with it.’ * I shall try my best,’ said Arthur. * It’s a start in life.’ ‘To be sure,’ said the old man, counting the money as though it pleased him to handle it. ‘ Your aunt and I have plenty, and now we know you’re getting steady we’ll know how to leave it. A man that’s got money likes to put it in a warm nest, when he has to let go of it. But you haven’t diessed yourself up yet.’ ‘ No,’ said Aithur. ‘ I wanted to show you the money before I spent it. I haven’t bought anything but the railway ticket. I shall look liner when you see me next.’ ‘No matter about that,’ said the old man. ‘ Money is a better lining for pockets than silk is. We don’t dress much, but there’s plenty tucked about the house, one place or another.’ ‘ls that safe, uncle, in this lonely spot ’ asked Arthur. ‘ Yes, yes, safe enough. I have a dog and a gun,’ sairl the old man. At this moment there was a knock on the door that startled them all. Arthur gathered up his money and returned it to the bag, and that to his pocket. The old woman put her head out of the window. ‘ One of those tramps,’ she said. ‘ Well, I’ll give him some bread, there is plenty ; but I never give money—never. ’ Shortly the tramp passed the window, tucking some bread into his pockets—a slouching fellow, with a rascally face. After this cordial beginning the day passed pleasantly, and at nightfall Arthur took his leave, returning to the city. In the morning their neighbours noticing something unusual about the house, and seeing nothing of the old people, went to make inquiries. They found them hideously murdered in their beds. The place had been ransacked, evidently in search of the money which the Dobles were always supposed to have upon the premises, and which it seemed likely the wretches had found and carried away with them. ‘ It is that nephew of theirs,’ people began to say. That Arthur was the murderer of his old aunt and uncle was an established fact in the village where they lived before many hours were over, and that day, before he had been able to provide himself with new clothes, he was arrested. When the policeman’s hand first fell upon his shoulder he was so innocent of any crime that he merely laughed, and asked : • On what charge ?’ When he saw that the arrest was made in good earnest, he believed that it was a case of mistaken identity, but when he heard in this sudden manner that his uncle and aunt had been assassinated, and that he was suspected of their murder, the shock overcame him utterly. Then when he was searched a large sum of money was found upon him. He had had no employment for months, and his story that he had drawn a portion of the principal prize in the lottery was not believed. The company kept a record of the names of those to whom they sold tickets. His name was not amongst them. He had bought it of a man who had offered it, with his last half-crown—a man he did not know and had never seen before. In fact, to cut a long story short, he was tried for his life, and all the evidence being against him, there seemed no doubt that he would be condemned to death, when, on the last day of the trial, a new witness was announced—a girl who had visited one of the lawyers on the previous evening, saying she had important evidence to give. As Arthur Berryl saw her ascend the witness stand, he suddenly remembered the day on which he stood watching the lucky numbers appear in the window pane, and the blue-eyed girl he had protected from the crowd. This gentleman, she said, was one who had stood beside her at the window of Lottery Hall. She remembered the number of the ticket he had taken from his pocket—9999. He had drawn a portion of the principal prize, and afterward been very generous to her father. She had known him when he came to the door, watching him from the window. He had given her father £lOO and her father was ready to swear to the fact—which he did. The girl’s evidence carried conviction with it, and when the prisoner, crying ‘ God bless you ! ’ burst into tears and wept before them all, a total revulsion of feeling took place, and the jury gave a verdict of ‘Not guilty,’ without leaving the box.

Later on a tramp was discovered dead by the roadside, where he had fallen in a lit of apoplexy, and in a belt he wore were several thousand pounds and jewellery known to belong to the Dobles, and marked with their names. But meanwhile, Arthur, released from prison, had gone to the Palmer’s home to express his gratitude. An earnest affection soon existed between them, and as the heavenly sweetness of Lily Palmer’s blue eyes had been the real cause of Arthur Berryl’s generosity to her father, no one will marvel that the story ends with a wedding, and that Arthur, fell heir to the Doble estate. A grand housewarming was given to celebrate the new regime, and Lily’s dress of valuable old lace, discovered amongst a lot of miscellaneous heirlooms in a long disused lumber-rdom, was greatly admired by the numerous guests who Hocked to welcome the couple whose marriage had been effected by a lottery ticket.