Chandler Daily Publicist. (Chandler, Okla. Terr.), Vol. 3, No. 162, Ed. 1 Wednesday, October 5, 1904 Page: 4 of 4
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In the German
Capital
■ ..
Vncle Bob's Hope
"Hope!” Reproof, love, horror—all
were in the cry, anil the little child,
who but for a strong hand might have
been lying lifeless on -the platform,
stood unhurt at the assistant baggage-
master's feet.
The trunk, so violently hurled
aside, had burst Its fastenings, and
now from a gap along Its length was
displayed an array of pink and white
finery.
But It was not toward this that the
man who had wrought such mischief
directed his attention. For a mo-
ment he held the little one close, and
then putting her gently out of harm’s
way went on with bis duty of load-
ing the luggage.
"(Had I’m not In your shoes, Bob!”
commented his fellow-workman, as
together they hurriedly tried to repair
some of the damage to the Injured
trunk. “Don't blame you a bit. That
was a mighty close call for the kid.
All the same, you’ll catch It. S’pose
you know who this trunk belongs to?"
A quick, Inquiring glance was his
only answer.
”8ome of the Wentworth tribe—his
niece, 1 guess. 1 saw him with her
up at the other end of the train.’'
"Uncle Bob!"
It was a small voice to bo heard
through the din of the station; but
the assistant baggage master bad
keen ears.
"Yes, Hope,” he said, and taking
the child tenderly In his arms he
boarded a car and found her a seat.
"Now, remember, you must not stir
from this place! The conductor will
come for you when you get to Al-
toona. Promise me that you will Btay
right here!”
"I won’t move the leastest step,
truly I won’t! I didn’t mean to be
naughty that time. I only wanted to
kiss you, and—and 1 guess I forgot.”
The little face was sober, and peui-
tence clouded the bright eyes.
Meanwhile President Wentworth of
the I. & O. road had learned of the
accident to his niece’s trunk, and was
looking for the assistant baggage-
master.
"You're the man that smashed that
trunk, I believe?”
"It was through me that It happen-
ed, sir, and I'm very sorry; but If
you'll let me explain-”
”1 don’t want any explanations or
excuses. I’ve heard all I care to
know about It. You've no business to
have your young ones around here—
It’s no place for them!”
"But the child-”
"I can't stop to hear any long
stories. Report at the office for your
pay. We’ve got to have a man here
who will handle baggage carefully,"
and the President swung himself on a
passing car.
"Got your walking ticket?" asked
the baggage master, anxiously.
Robert McElroy nodded. His face
was white, and his lips were hard-set.
"It’s too bad! I was afraid of It. I
tried to get hold of him before he
tackled you. I thought perhaps I
could explain matters, and cool him
off a little; but I couldn’t leave."
“It would have done no good. He
wouldn’t hear a word. Thank you,
all the same. I shouldn't care for
myself, you know; but Grace and lit-
tle Hope--"
The baggage-master shook his head
sympathetically. "I’m mighty sorry!”
he said, as Ills assistant turned
abruptly away.
President Wentworth found the
south bound train crowded when he
boarded it at Shirley. At last he se-
cured a seat in the rear car beside a
little girl.
The child looked her big seat-mate
up and down; but the man behind his
newspaper took no heed. She waited
a few moments, and then gently-
pulled his coat sleeve.
"What do you want?" with a glance
in her direction.
She smiled, and held up a small
doll. "See?” she raid.
"Very pretty,” he nodded, and turn-
ed back to the market report.
"Aunt Jessie gave It to me ’cause
it's my birthday,” she chirped. "M-m,"
from behind the paper.
“I’m five years old!” No response.
A long sighing breath proved futile
against the attractions in print. A
second tug at his elbow arrested the
president's attention.
"Is It most done?” the little one
asked.
“What?”
"That," pointing to the newspaper.
“I’m so lonesome!”
“Oh, you want me to talk to you.
Is that it?” and a smile of comrade-
ship blotted out the stern lines of his
face for a moment.
The child nodded Jubilantly.
"Then you’ll have to tell me who
you are, and why you are traveling
alone.”
"Why, I’m Uncle Bob’s Hope, and
I’ve been at Aunt Jessie’s all day, nnd
mamma couldn’t go, ’cause she’s sick,
and Uncle Bob couldn’t, and there
isn’t anybody else.”
"Who’s Uncle Bob?"
"Don’t you know Uncle Bob?”
"I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleas-
ure of his acquaintance. What’s his
other name?”
"I guess he hasn't any.”
"What, what does he do?" persisted
her questioner.
"Oh, he puts the trunks on the cars
and takes them ofT.”
"So, Uncle Bob is the baggage-mas-
ter. is ho?”
"No, he isn't the baggage-master—
he's the—the cistern baggage-master.
That’s what he Is!"
"Oh!" grimiy.
"He was sorry with me this morn-
I in*. *raui?e I got In his way, and wade
him break a trunk. I forgot he told
me to stay back where I was, and I
* wanted to kiss him. Do you B'pose
he’ll be sorry with me when I get
home?"
"I hope not.”
"I hope he won't too. Couldn’t you
ask him not to be?”
The president changed the subject.
"You haven’t told me your name yet.”
‘T've got two. One Is Uncle Bob’s
Hope, and the other’s Hope McElroy
Vernon.”
“McElroy! And your mother’s
name?”
"Mamma's is Grace McElroy Ver-
non. It’s 'most like mine; Isn’t it?"
The president did not heed. “Grace
McElroy!” he repeated, under his
breath, “Grace McElroy!”
"Mamma makes poetry," Hope prat-
tled on. “I like ’Kisses Ten’ best.
Do you want me to give you ’Kisses
Ten’?”
“I should like very much to hear
it.”
“I'll have to get up In your lap to
do them.”
As soon as she was In the desired
position, she began, matching kisses
to the words as she went along:
"One for the lips, that they may say
The kindest things In the pleasantest
way;
Two for the cheeks, that they may
smile,
And never need blush at sense of
guile;
Two for the eyes, that they may see
The sweetness of love and charity;
One for the forehead, that you be
wise,
And never earth’s poorest ones de-
spise;
One for each hand, that they may do
Only the deeds that are good and
true;
Two for the ears, that all day long
They may be hearing the angels’
song;
And, wishing you happiness once and
again,
There is the end of the kisses ten.”
“Don’t you think it’s lovely? And
doesn’t It make you feel better right
away? Uncle Bob says It does him.”
“It Is very nice indeed,” was the
non-committal answer. “And your
mother wrote it? I wish she’d write
some poetry for me."
"She will, If you want her to. She
always does things to please folks.”
"Not always, I’m afraid.”
"Oh, she does! And I know she’ll
make you some poetry, unless—un-
less,” and the bright face grew trou-
bled, “she has to go to Heaven or to
California before she can get It done.
But I guess she’ll have time. We
can’t go to California yet, because
there Isn’t money enough. Uncle
Bob’s been saving up for ever'n ever
so long. We’re going without butter
now, to help. Do you ever go with-
out butter?"
A little shake of the head was the
only answer.
Hope chattered on, while the presi-
dent took a little book from his pock-
et, and after writing a few words tore
off the page and gave it to Hope.”
"There’s a picture for your birth-
day.”
“Oh, thank you! It’s a train of
cars. And what does It say? I can’t
read."
"Your mother will read It to you.
And here’s another picture to keep it
company,” writing a line or two on a
card. "I'll put them both in your
bag.”
“This is a train, too; but it’s dif-
ferent," and Hope scanned the en-
graving before it was tucked away
with the aprons and the cookies that
Aunt Jessie had sent to mamma.
"Won’t mamma and Uncle Bob be
s’prised!" she laughed, as the bag
snapped over her new gifts.
The man smiled, and then led her
on to talk of her mother, until he
was in possession of the pathetic lit-
tle story of their privations, their
bravery and their love for each other.
“Hello! Here you are! We thought
you must have taken an earlier train,
till Rand said you were in the rear
car.”
The seat In front, now being empty,
the newcomers had It unlocked,
whirled the back over, and sat down.
“Whose kid is this?" queried one of
the men.
"She says she’s Uncle Bob's Hope,”
answered the president. “Miss Ver-
non, let me make you acquainted with
Mr. Parish, the superintendent of the
road,” at which both men laughed,
and the one whose name had been
mentioned shifted awkwardly in his
seat. "And allow me to present Mr.
Tyson, also," the president went on.
"Oh, I know about him!” Hope
piped, with a merry little giggle.
“Uncle Bob said he liked Mr. Tyson
because he was so straight."
"Much obliged to Uncle Bob for his
good opinion,” returned the man,
when the laugh had subsided.
A business matter came up for dis-
cussion, and Hope’s gaze fell upon
one face after another as the men
talked. Finally she came back to the
superintendent, and the serious brown
eyes seemed to study his counten-
ance.
Suddenly the man turned to the
child. “What In the world are you
punching me for?” he asked.
"Oil!” cried Hope, her face all con-
trition. "Did I hurt you? I didn’t
mean to. 1 only wanted to find out,
so's to tell Uncle Bob. He said one
day that the superintendent was a
hard man; but I thought you looked
as soft ns anybody—and you are.”
A roar of laughter greeted her
words, led by the man who had felt
the force of Hope’s little forefinger.
They were good friends after that,
and Mr. Parish learned all about the
birthday and the birthday doll and
the pictures in the bag, and then the
big man slipped a bright coin Into the
Mtiffe hand that rested so confidingly
in his.
"Oh, a penny!” cried Hope. "A
beautiful new penny!”
"And here’s a silver penny to go
with it," said Mr. Tyson, holding out
a shining coin.
The child eyed It doubtfully. "1
thank you very much,” she said
gravely, "but I think you’re trying to
fool me-it’s bigger than any pen-
ny I ever saw,” and she turned an ap-
pealing glance to the superintendent.
“It is a dollar,” he responded, "a
silver dollar."
“A whole dollar?" she exclaimed.
"A dollar Is a great deal of money—
Uncle Bob says so. I shall give It
right to him, and maybe—oh, maybe
it will make enough so we can go to
California! Do you think It will?”
It was President Wentworth who
answered: “I think there will be
enough,” he smiled.
"Are you sure?” clapping the coins
ecstatically together.
“Quite sure.”
“Oh, I'm so happy!” she sang. "You
are good to give me such a splendid
birthday present,” directing her
thanks toward the donor of the dol-
lar. Then, as if in apology, she
turned to Mr. Parish:
"But the penny’ll help!” she said.
“Every penny helps—Uncle Bob says
so.”
Hope wondered a little why the men
laughed; but she was too full of Joy
to care much about it, and then the
announcement at the ear door: "Next
station Shoreham!" set the people
astir to have wraps end luggage In
readiness for departure.
•
Then all in a moment, Hope had
said good-by to her friends, and was
being borne away in the conductor’s
arms—and there was Uncle Bob on
the platform waiting for her.
The little girl talked all the way
home, filling her young uncle, who
that long day had carried so heavy
a heart, with alternate joy and dis
may. He well knew how fond of
wagging was that innocent little j
tongue; and what family secrets j
might it not have disclosed? Yet, ac- j
cording to her glad story, the railway
officials had been kind, and had even
contributed toward making her birth |
day happier. He wondered if the j
President had identified "Uncle Bob" j
with the man whom he had discharged ]
that morning.
At home Hope at once produced ;
the birthday coins; but her delight i
in the discovery that her bright pen- |
ny was a five-dollar gold piece was
somewhat clouded wheu Uncle Bob’s
opinion in regard to there being {
enough for the California journey dif- j
fered from that of the President.
An exclamation from the couch ar- !
rested the attention of the two who
were preparing tea.
Robert McElroy dropped the slice
of bread he was toasting, and darted
to his sister’s side.
The invalid was sobbing over some
papers which she had taken from the
little black shopping bag.
'Oh, my pictures!” cried Hope. "I
forgot to show them to you. Did
they make you sorry, mamma?"
Uncle Bob caught up the "pictures"
and held them to the light. What he
read made his face for a moment al-
most as white as hl3 sister's: a pass
for “Miss Vernon and two" to San
Francisco, and a check for one hun-
dred dollars. Both were signed:
Dudley Wentworth."
"Why, Uncle Bob, you’re crying,
too!”
For answer the young man clasped
the child in his arms. "You were
truly Uncle Bob’s Hope to-day!" he
said. "Uncle Bob’s blessed Hope!”
•
The happy talk over the tea table
was still in progress when a knock
announced a visitor. Hope opened
the door, and she gave a little shriek
of joy as she recognized President
Wentworth.
The eyes of the woman fell before
his earnest gaze, and he did not wait
for an answer.
”1 recognized your features in
Hope’s face, even before she told me
her name and yours.”
The little girl, who had been anx-
iously awaiting her chance, now
made the most of the instant’s pause.
"Did you and mamma know each
other once?" she queried.
“Yes, once on a time we were very
dear friends, and then—well, we had
a little quarrel, and we haven’t known
much about each other in eight long
years.”
"Mamma says quarrels are dread-
ful things until you make up. Have
you and mamma made up now? And
are you dear friends again, just as
you were that long time ago?"
“I don’t know’, little one. Ask your
mamma.”
The child ran to her mother's side.
"Are you, mamma? And, oh, mam-
ma—I forgot to tell you—he wants
you to write him some poetry! Will
you?”
"Hush, dear! You must keep still
now."
“But, mamma, I should think you
would—he’s so nice! Anyway, you’ll
give him the ‘Kisses Ten’; won’t
you?"
Mrs. Vernon’s answer was drowned
in the burst of laughter, and as Uncle
Bob slipped away, and Hope nestled
down in the fatherly arms and went
to sleep, whether the little song held
the correct number or not is unre-
corded.—Sunday Magazine.
Babe Sneaks Three Languages.
The latest prodigy is Rejane Lea,
who lives with her parents in York
coad, London. She is not quite 3
years old and prattles fluently in thpee
languages, French, Italian and Eng-
lish. Within a few weeks she will be-
gin to learn German. Her father is
an accomplished linguist.
The narrative of my experiences in
Berlin may be of interest to those
who are thinking of a journey abroad,
says Benjamin P. Wall, in American
Grange Bulletin.
On my arrival there I was disap-
pointed in failing to find friends who
had not yet returned from America,
and who had a residence in Berlin. So
I found myself unexpectedly in a
strange city, knowing no one, and un-
able to understand or speak a word of
its language. My first desire was to
find a hotel in the neighborhood of my
friends' residence. With my only
baggage, a gripsack, In band. 1 started
in search of a temporary home on a
principal street. I Inquired of a Ger-
man, who kept a fruit' stand, if he
would kindly direct mo to a hotel. I
will say right here that I received the
utmost kindness and- polite attention
from everyone I met during the whole
of my Journey abroad. The good-na-
tured German not understanding a
word I said, stopped everyone that
passed and asked of them If they could
Bpeak English, but no one could. By
pantomime I was made to understand
that If I would cross the street and go
up to the third story of the opposite
building I might possibly find some
one who could. 1 went as directed
feeling very doubtful as to the result.
After crossing the street I stood wait-
ing and considering the possibility of
success by climbing up to the third
story, when an exceedingly beautiful
young lady approached me nnd said,
"Sir, I can spoak a little English.” I
asked her if she would kindly direct
me to a hotel; she said that she was
going that way and would conduct me
to one, insisting upon taking my hand
bag which, of course, was refused. 1
learned while chatting with her on
the way that she was from Poland and
was in Berlin to secure an education.
Soon she stopped In front of an im-
posing building, and said, "Here is
the hotel.” She lightly tripped up the
steps, touched the bell button, re-
turned, clasped my hand with a “God
bless you,” and was gone. She disap-
peared from my sight as suddenly as
if she had been snatched up to heav-
en, where she seemed to me to belong.
I have since cherished her memory as
my angel of light. I found the hotel
satisfactory, except that I could neith-
er understand nor be understood, and
after the first meal at the table, they
sent outside for someone to take my
order who could speak a little En-
glish.
The custom In Germany is to sleep
in single beds, and the bed covering
is a tick filled with down, which when
on the bed looks like a partially filled
balloon. My first night’s experience
was quite notable.
I looked upon the balloon with some
misgivings, as the tick Is just the
width of the narrow bedstead, and
only as long as to reach from the
footboard nearly to the pillow. In
getting under it I was careful not to
disturb its equilibrium. After a while
I wished to cover my shoulders a little
more so I gave it my customary
"yank” and my bare feet were uncov-
ered to an alarming extent, which
caused me to suddenly give the thing
a push towards the foot of the bed,
when I found the upper part of my
body much more exposed. This made
it necessary to get up and rearrange
the whole business. After again get-
ting carefully adjusted in bed and
nearly asleep, as is my custom I made
a sudden turnover, and flop it went
on to the floor and then I was under
the necessity of another rearrange-
ment. Moral, when you go to bed in
Germany keep still and the downy
bed cover will settle about you like
the atmosphere, giving the delightful
sensation of being tucked in by your
mother.
The goose Is to Germany what the
turkey is to New England. It is not
only the principal dish on festival oc-
casions but great quantities are in
daily use. In Berlin from fifteen to
thirty carloads of geese arrive daily,
each containing twelve hundred geese.
These are largely imported from Rus-
sia under very careful inspection. If
a single goose is found diseased the
whole carload is quarantined at the
expense of the snipper for a limited
time. Such as are not fitted for mar-
ket are kept and fattened until they
are. Others are nailed through their
feet to the floor, crammed with con-
centrated food, and in about two
weeks they become very fat, with
greatly enlarged livers, which, though
diseased, command the high prices
that epicures are willing to pay in or-
der to gratify their abnormal appe-
tites. There Is expended annually in
Berlin for geese the sum of $3,500,000,
thus making the common use of downy
bed covering possible.
In passing a fine store with large
plate glass windows, in which was a
beautiful display of large fat geese, I
noticed several two bushel baskets,
one filled with the heads of geese, an-
other with the feet, one with huge giz-
zards, and still another with the sec-
ond joints of wings. These excited
my curiosity. I went in and was po-
litely received by one of the salesmen.
I told him I came in not to buy, but
to look about his beautiful store.
Pointing to the baskets of offal, I
said, “Of course you don’t sell those.
What do you do with them?” He did
not understand me any more than I
understood him. This we do not al-
ways consider. He, supposing that I
wanted to buy, began to fill a paper
bag. From the first basket he took
a goose head, looking up to see if I
wanted more. I shook my head, pro-
testing that I did not want to buy the
stuff, so he went on putting one from
each basket Into the bag, then did it
up Into a nice package and offered It
to me. With considerable vehemence
I again declared that I did not want it.
He thinking I came from the country
at some distance and wanted a strong
package, went and put on an extra
wrapping, and again the third, not-
withstanding my protestations, and
then he made out a bill for ninety
pfennigs (22'/& cts.) which I took to
the cashier's desk and paid without
further parlance, leaving the bundle
behind and feeling quite satisfied with
my experience.
There is no better way for a farmer
to judge of the products of a country
than by visiting the markets. Berlin
has fourteen market halls maintained
by the city. One of the most Import-
ant is the Neue, both wholesale and re-
tail. It is a very large two-story build-
ing divided into small stalls for the re-
tail trade, mostly in charge of women,
and devoted to every kind of produce.
Here are flowers, fruit, vegetables, fish
which are sold alive, game, and meats
of all kinds. In every department may
be found a great variety and of all
qualities and the stalls are crowded,
making it quite difficult to get about.
They have here what I saw nowhere
else, a clearance sale. About noon,
goods that are a little passe are placed
in a sizable space with a long bench or
counter in front. An auctioneer stands
behind and offers the goods, from a
single duck, or goose, to a box of
game, to the crowd of buyers. The ar-
ticles are passed rapidly along the
counter for quick examination, being
bid upon at the same time and sold.
A clerk takes the buyer’s name and
the price for settlement and delivery
after the sale. Thus In an hour large
quantities of goods are sold to the mu-
tual advantage of both parties. The
seller disposes of what might be lost
in another day or two and the buyer
gets for a low price what Is yet good.
The river Spree is used as a canal
for the cheap transportation of prod-
uce from long distances In the coun-
try to Berlin. I noticed a canal boat
about one hundred and fifty feet long
and twenty feet wide, deeply loaded In
bulk with pears and apples. They
were in bins of different sizes, In the
hold, apparently belonging to ditfenvat
producers, and put In charge of the
captain, who seemed to act as their
agent for the sale of the produce. The
fruit was taken from the hold in lary:e
baskets holding about a barrel each,
handled with very little care, and sold
from the desk to hucksters and other
dealers. Of course, this fruit although
coming directly from the orchard
would soon decay and never be in its
best flavor. This description may be
applied to other farm products. There
are, however, some choice fruits to be
found In fancy stores. The demand
for near by products is largely sup-
plied by hand wagons drawn by a
woman and a dog, or a woman and two
dogs, which seem to be a whole team.
It is astonishing what large loads they
draw.
Family bread making is unknown In
Germany and I think in all Europe.
Milk is sold about the city from
tanks on wheels. These tanks are di-
vided Into three parts from which
cream, skimmed milk, and whole milk
are drawn from faucets as called for.
Dwelling houses are warmed by the
same style of heaters that have been
in use in Germany for centuries, con-
sisting of a piece of masonry, two
feet square and six feet high, covered
with tiles more or less ornamented.
This encloses a fire box very incon-
veniently arranged for use. There Is
very little wood in Germany and it Is
cared for with the strictest economy.
Coal Is used, and also peat, com-
pressed with hydraulic pressure into
brick forms. These are sold for $1.75
per thousand, seemingly a very low
price, but labor is cheap in Germany.
There are In the German empire 4,-
942,000 acres of peat bogs and in Ire-
land 12,000 square miles, covering two-
fifths of the whole surface of the
country, apparently an Inexhaustible
supply.
The Same Cat.
B. V. Wolf, agent of the North Ger-
man Lloyd Steamship Company in
Middletown, N. Y., has a cat that he
has for months been trying to get rid
of. She has been given to farmers
who have taken her miles away to
their homos, time after time, but she
has never failed to put in an appear-
ance again at the Wolf mansion, after
brief absences. The other day Mr.
Wolf went to New York. He put the
cat in a bag and placed it under the
seat of the car. When the train
reached Sterlington, Mr. Wolf dropped
the cat out of the window. Sterling-
ton is forty miles from Middletown.
Mr. Wolf transacted his business in
New York and went home. This was
on Tuesday. When he went home to
supper on Thursday night and sat
down by his hearthstone there was
the same cat. She got up, rubbed
herself on her master’s legs, and
purred in u way that showed how she
appreciated his little joke. Wolf sat
down and seemed dazed for a minute.
Then he stroked the cat fondly, but
respectfully, and said, "You can stay
here as long as you live, if it’s a hun-
dred years. I’ll get a gold collar for
you and tie it full of red ribbons.
Pussy, you’re a dandy.”—Exchange.
Let the Little Dogs Alone.
A man set out to walk a Hundred
miles. Two days later another man
followed on the same road and on the
fourth day overtook the first man. The
latter remarked: "This is the worst
road I ever traveled. There is the
greatest lot of barking little dogs I
ever saw, and it has taken half my
time to drive them off.”
“Why,” said the second man, “I
didn’t pay any attention to them, but
came right along as if they weren't
there.”—Exchange.
The Spy in
Vanity Fair
Those who talk much are Bure to
say something best left unsaid.—Con-
fucius.
They had just finished supper wnen
there came the knock at the back
door.
The tender-hearted one rose and,
passing into the kitchen, opened the
door. We heard a murmur of voices.
Then the tenderhearted one come into
the dining room and began to heap a
plate with food.
“What are you going to do?" de-
manded the unbelieving one. “Not
feed tramps, 1 hope.”
"That’s just what I am going to do,”
was the calm reply.
"Now that is very foolish," returned
the unbeliever. “You will have a
string of them bothering the life out
of you.”
An ominous glitter came in the eyes
of the tender-hearted and rigid lines
settled about her mouth. “This is only
a boy,” she said. “I shall give him
something to eat."
The worldly one understood. Years
ago there was a boy who was all in
all to the tender-hearted. The grass
grows on his grave now, but for the
sake of that boy she is good to all
boys. Hence the heaped-up plate of
savory food she now carried to the
boy tramp.
The unbeliever arose and followed
her. It is, perhaps, just as well to let
these tramps know there is a man
about the house. This tramp was not
very formidable in appearance. He
was a boy of 16, possibly, with a nice
face, dark, penetrating eyes and a
pleasant smile.
The unbeliever began: “Well, what
are you driving at now? What kind
of game Is this?”
The boy told his story straightfor-
wardly. He had come from Chicago
Yes, he had beaten his way east on a
train. Had been to Buffalo looking
for work. Couldn’t find any. Was
now trying to get back to Chicago.
“That's a pretty good story,” jeered
the unbeliever. “Now you know you
have run away. Why don’t you tell
the truth?”
The boy stuck to his story as he ate
his supper like a ravenous dog.
Meantime the worldly one surveyed
the juvenile tramp through a window.
What she saw made her go to her
room and look up her pocketbook.
That dead boy under the swaying
grasses reached out and touched her
heartstrings, too.
When she joined the others the un-
believer was still catechising the boy.
“Why don’t you go to work?" de-
manded the unbeliever.
"How is he going to get a job?” in-
terrupted the worldly one. “Will you
recommend him?"
“Why, no,” hesitated the unbeliever,
“how can I? I don’t know anything
about him.”
“Just so,” returned the worldling.
"Who does know him? And who is
going to give an unknown lad a job?”
"Where will he sleep to-night?”
drawled the worldly one.
“He might sleep in the lockup,” said
the unbeliever.
The boy’s face became terrorized.
“I never was locked up,” he gasped.
"Well, you would have a good com-
fortable bed,” said the unbeliever.
“But I’d be behind bars,” said the
boy.
After that he was in a hurry to be
off. The worldly one, waiting until
the unbeliever’s back was turned,
slipped some money in his hand. He
thanked her and started off.
“I ought to have asked him more
questions,” said the unbelieving one.
“I am convinced he was lying."
“Yes,” said the worldling, "you
showed your convictions very plainly.
You went at him hammer and tongs
from the .start. If the boy was not a
liar your manner would have made
him one in just about two minutes.
That’s no way to talk to such a per-
son--”
"Oh. you are so easily taken in--”
“Ah! Am I? Let me tell you one
thing. I have had a great deal more
experience with people from the
slums of big cities than you have. My
work has often sent me among them.
And 1 know it is no way to approach
them as if you considered them liars
and knaves. They are human as
much as you. I don’t believe that boy
was lying.”
“And if he had a decent, pleasant
home,” spoke up the tender-hearted
one, “he wouldn't have run away.” She
rose and looked out the window at the
black, threatening sky. “I wish we
had not let him go. Poor boy! I
should like to take him, give him a
home and make him happy.”
"You gave him his supper,” snorted
the unbeliever. “I should think that
was enough.”
"And tbe worldly one gave him
some money when you were not look-
ing,” chuckled the tender-hearted.
Then the unbeliever turned upon
the worldly one. “You gave him
money," he ejaculated. “Well, I did
not know you were such a fool.”
“1 may be several kinds of a fool,”
returned the other, "but a boy who
docs not wish to have a comfortablo
bed behind bars is a boy over whom
I am perfectly willing to be a drivel-
ing imbecile.”
The unbeliever stared incredulously.
"Well,” he said, after a pause, “I
yield to no one in sympathy for the
unfortunate. But you two beat me. I
can't see how you are so easily gulled.”
But the tender-hearted and the
worldly one looked at each other
They understood. The dead boy In his
grave had reached out and touched
them.—Edith Sessions Tupper, In Chi
ergo Chronicle.
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French, Mrs. W. H. Chandler Daily Publicist. (Chandler, Okla. Terr.), Vol. 3, No. 162, Ed. 1 Wednesday, October 5, 1904, newspaper, October 5, 1904; Chandler, Oklahoma Territory. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc911133/m1/4/: accessed April 18, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.