Yale Class 5 Internal Combustion Engine Trucks A390 (GPGLP040MX GP050MX GP060MX) Service

Yale Class 5 Internal Combustion

Engine Trucks A390 (GPGLP040MX
GP050MX GP060MX) Service Manual
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**Yale Class 5 Internal Combustion Engine Trucks A390 (GPGLP040MX

GP050MX GP060MX) Service Manual** Size: 55.8 MB Format: PDF Language:
English Brand: Yale Forklift Type of machine: Yale Class 5 Internal Combustion
Engine Trucks Type of document: Service Manual Model: A390 (GPGLP040MX
GP050MX GP060MX) Content: Section Presentation Installation and Setting
Diagnostics and Measurements Electrical System Hydraulic System Basic Truck
Mechanics Mast Assembly Mechanics Reducer Braking System Routine
Maintenance
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 He paused and looked back toward the bench where the woman
and the children sat.
 Mr. Winthrop's face had taken on a look of distress as he
recognized William McCord. He turned to his companion and
explained in a low tone, "This is the man who brought me the
evidence."
 Mr. Van Rensselaer regarded the man with keen eyes, and
decided at once that any word from a man with such a face was as
good as an affidavit.
 When William looked toward the woman her worn face flamed
crimson, then turned deadly white again. She must have been
unusually pretty not so very many years ago, but sorrow, toil and
poverty had left their ineradicable marks upon her face and stripped
her of all claim to beauty now. Her dress was plain, and as neat as
could be expected under the circumstances. Her roughened hair
showed an attempt to put it into order, and her eyes looked as
though she had not slept for many nights. In spite of her shrinking,
there was a dignity about her. The bony hand that held the youngest
child wore a wedding ring, now much too large for the finger.
 The oldest child, a girl apparently of five, had yellow hair and
rather bold blue eyes that reminded Mr. Winthrop startlingly of his
eldest son's when he was a small boy. The youngest, a sallow, sickly
boy, looked like his mother.
 The kindly face of Mr. Winthrop was overspread with trouble,
but he grasped the humbler man's hand warmly:
 "That's all right, William," he said heartily. "I suppose she felt
she must come, and there's no harm done. Only, for our friend Mr.
Van Rensselaer's sake, keep the matter as quiet as possible."
 "Certainly, certainly, Mr. Winthrop, and thank you, sir," said the
old man gratefully.
 Then he looked questioningly toward the woman, and took a
step in her direction.
 "Alberty, this here is his father," said William McCord and
withdrew hastily.
 Mr. Van Rensselaer at once engaged him in earnest
conversation, giving the other man opportunity to talk with his
unknown daughter-in-law without being observed.
 The woman looked up abashed into the kindly eyes bent upon
her. Yet she felt the right was on her side, and she had no need to
quail before any one.
 "It has given me great sorrow, madam, to learn of my son's
behavior," he began. "It is particularly distressing to us because he is
our first born, and deeply loved by us." He paused, overcome by his
emotion, and the dry-eyed woman, who looked as if she had long
ago shed all the tears she had to shed, glanced up wonderingly and
said in a voice that betrayed her lack of culture:
 "Yes, that's one trouble with him: folks always like him too well.
He thinks he can do anything he wants, and it won't make no
diff'runce. But he can't go no further with me. I've jest made up my
mind to take a stand, even ef I have to go to that rich girl and show
her them childern."
 The father in him almost shuddered at the vernacular. Of what
could Harrington have been thinking when he married this woman—
Harrington, who had been brought up amid the refinements of life,
and been almost too sensitive to unpleasant things? It was the old
story of a pretty face, and a boy far from home and acquaintances,
with no one to advise, and no danger of being found out.
 "I used to like him a lot myself," went on the tired voice, "an' I
might even yet ef he'd behave himself and stay home, an' pervide
good fer us like he used to." There was a pleasant drawl to her tone,
like a weary child's. The father's heart was touched.
 "Has my son sent you money during his absences?" The
question had to be asked, but it cut the old gentleman to the heart
to speak the words.
She turned dull eyes on him.
 "Never a cent! He always said he was havin' a hard time to get
money enough to keep goin', business was so bad, but I look notice
he was dressed up good and smart every time he come home, which
wa'n't often." She sighed as if it did not matter much.
 "I could stand it all," she began again in her monotonous tone,
"but I can't stand him gettin' married again. It ain't right, and it ain't
the law, an' I knew ef I didn't stop it, nobody would, so I come on."