HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Expositor, 1922-12-22, Page 71.10
4¢t►. of
0 and of
Late Dl..
•tory District,
Office hours at.�
nday, Wednaeday,
relay, from ,one to f
214-12
ff0Arl
it•4ga��e
ow Buba.
o bt carefnl7;
Ad .wan flowers a
ye :the moht d
t Lawrence -Co t ,, "te'
Gavage 4eep„ your.*yyf �bael
can't tell. Zeitey'll-..
en ye. Morr.boy8 have-,laaM daJ
away and tore to .pieces'em, than
by all the bears and panthers in that;
woods, When I was a boy I got a
cut acrost my legs. that made a. scar
ye can see:.now,, and it was a hair
cloth aofy that,, dope it. Keep' out
o' that old parlor;' 'to Might 'at well
o jute a 4age o' wolves. ''How be I
gain' to make ye remember it?"
• "I don't -know," I'. whimpered and
began to cry, out.in fearful' anticipa-
tion. "
Re.^set me in a chair, picked up
one of his old carpet -slippers and be-
gan to thump the bed with it. He
labored the bed with tremendous
vigor. Meanwhile he looked at me
and exclaimed: "You dreadful child.
I. knew that my sins_ were respon-
sible for this violence. It frighten-
ed me and my cries increased.
The door at the bottom of the
stairs opened suddenly.
Aunt Deel called:
"Don't lose your temper, Peabody.
I think you've gone fur 'nough,—
ayes!"
Uncle Peabody stopped and blew
as if he were very tired and then I
caught a look in his face that reas-
sured me.
He called back to her: "I wouldn't
'a' cared so Hauch if it hadn't 'a' been
the what -not and them Minervy
flowers. When a boy tips over a
what -not he's goin' it party strong."
"Well don't be too severe. You'd
better come now and git me a pail
o' water—ayes, I think ye had."
Uncle Peabody did a lot of sneez-
ing and coughing with his big red
handkerchief over his face and I was
not old enough then to understand it.
He kissed me and took my little hand
in his big hard one and led me down
the stairs.
After that in private talks uncle
and I always referred to our parlor
as the wolf den and that night, after
I had gone to bed, he lay down be-
ide me and told the story of a boy
who, having been left alone in his
father's house one day, was suddenly
set upon and roughly handled by a
what=feot, a shaggy old 'hair -cloth
sofy and an album. The sofy had
begun it by scratchin' his face and
he had scratched back with a shingle
nail. The album had watched its
chance and, when he stood beneath
it, had jumped off a shelf on to, his
head. Suddenly he heard a voice
calling him:
"Little boy, come here," it said,
and it was the voice of the what -not.
"Just step up on this lower shelf,"
says the old what -not. "I want to
show ye somethin'.'
The what -not was all covered with
shiny things and looked as innocent
as a lamb.
.He went over and stepped on the
lower shelf 'and then the savage thing
jumped right on top of him, very
supple, and -threw him on=to the. floor
and held him there until his mother
came.
I dreamed that night that a long-
legged what -not, with a wax wreath
in its hands, chased me around the
house and caught and bit me on the
neck. I called for help and uncle
came and found me on the floor and
put me back in hod again.
For a long time I thought that the
way a man punished a boy was by
thumping his bed. I knew that wo-
men had a different and less satis-
factory method for I remembered
that my mother had spanked me and
Aunt Duel had a way of giving my
hands and head a kind of watermelon
the nip with the middle finger of her
right hand and with a curious look
in her eyes. Uncle Peabody used to
call it a "snaptunue look." Almost
always he whacked the bed with his
slipper. There were exceptions, how-
eveh, and, by and by, I came to know
in each ease the destination of the
slipper for if I had done anything
which really afflicted my conscience
that strip of leather seemed to know
the truth, and found its way to my
person.
My Uncle Peabody was a man of
a thousand. I often saw him laugh-
ing and talking to himself and
strange fancies came into my head
about it.
Who be you talking to?" I ask•
ed.
"Who be I talkin' to, Bub? Why
I'm talking to my friends."
"Friends?" I said.
"The friends I erto have but ain't
got. When I git lonesome I just
make up a lot of folks and some of
'em is good comp'nv"
He loved to have air with him, as
he worked, and told me odd tales and
seemed to enjoy my prattle. I often
saw him stapd with rough fingers
stirring his beard, just beginning to
show a sprinkle of white, while he
looked down at me as if struck with
wonder at something I had said:
"Come and give me a kiss, Bub,"
he would say. As he knelt down, I
would run to his arms and I wonder-
ed why he always blinked his grey
eyes after he had kissed me.
He was a bachelor and for a sing-
ular reason. I have always laid it
to the butternut trousers—the most
sacred bit of apparel of which I have
any knowledge.
"What have you got on them but-
ternut trousers for?" I used to hear
Aunt Deel say when he came down-
stairs in his first best clothes to go
to meeting or "attend" a sociable—
those days people just went to meet-
ing but they always "attended"
sociables — "You're a wearin' 'em
threadbare, ayes! I suppose you've
sot yer eyes on some one o' the girls.
I can always tell—ayes I cant When
you git your long legs in them but-
ternut trousers I know you're warm -
in' up—ayes!"
I had begun to regard those light
brown trousers with a feeling of awe
and used to put my hand upon them
very softly when Uncle had them on.
They seemed to rank with "sofya,"
albums and what -nota in their capac-
ity for making trouble.
Uncle Peabody rarely made any
DR.. F. J. R., FORSTER
Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat
Graduate in Medicine, University of
Toronto.
Late assistant New York Ophthal- '
mei and Aural Institute, Moorefield's
Eye' and Golden Square Throat Hos-
pital's, London, Eng. At Commercial
Hotel, Seaforth, third Wednesday in •
'each month from 11 a.m. to 8 p.m.
68 Waterloo Street, South, Stratford.
Phone 267, Stratford.
..CONSULTING ENGINEERS
James, Proctor & Redfern
Limited.
86 Toronto St, Toronto. Can.
Bridges, Pavements, Waterworks, Sewer-
age Systeme, lnclneratoro, Factorial.
Arbitrations, Litigation..
Phone Adel. 1044. Cable: JPBoo"Toronto
OUR FEES—Usually weld on, of ,the
money we saes our cent/. .
I
MERCHANTS .CASULTY CO.
Specialists in Health and Accident
Insurance.
Policies liberal and unrestricted.
Over $1,000,000 paid in losses.
Exceptional opportunities for local
Agents.
904 ROYAL BANK BLDG.,
1778-50 Toronto, Ont.
LEGAL
R. S. HAYS.
Barrister Solicitor, Conveyancer and
Notary Public. Solicitor for the Do -
Minion Bank. Office i rear of the Do -
on Bank, Seaforth. Money to
.t_3 1
BEST & BEST
Barristers, So ibitors, Convey-
ancers and Notaries Public, Etc.
Office in the Edge Building, opposite
The Expositor Office.
•
PROUDFOOT, KILLORAN AND
HOLMES
Barristers, Solicitors, Notaries Pub-
lic, etc. Money to lend. In Seaforth
en Monday of each week. Office in
Ladd Block. W. Proudfoot, K.C., J.
L Killoran, B. E. Holmes.
VETERINARY
F. HARBURN. V. S.
Honorgreduate of Ontario Veterin-
ary College, and honorary member of
the Medical Association of the Ontario
Veterinary College. Treats diseases of
all domestic animals by the most mod-
ern 'principles. Dentistry and Milk
Fever a specialty Office opposite
Dick's Hotel, Main Street, Seaforth.
All orders left at the hotel will re -
give prompt attention. Night calls
received at the office
JOHN GRIEVE, V. S.
Honor graduate of Ontario Veterin-
ary College. All diseases of domestic
animals treated. Calls promptly at-
tended to and charges moderate. Vet-
erinary Dentistry a specialty. Office
and residence on Goderich street, one
door east r,f Dr. Scott's office, Sea -
forth.
--MEDICAL
C. J. W tIARN;
425 Richmond Street, London, Ont.,
Specialist, surgery and Genio-Urin-
ery diseases of mea and women.
DR. J. W. PECK
Graduate of Faculty of Medicine
McGill University, Montreal; member
of College of Physicians and Surgeons
of Ontario; Licentiate of Medical Coun-
,eB of Canada; Post -Graduate Member
of Resident Medical staff of General
Hospital, Montreal, 1914-15; Office, 2
doors east of Post Office. Phone 66
Heasail, Ontario.
DR. F. J. BURROWS
Office and residence; Goderick street
east of the Methodist church, Senior*
Phone 46. Coroner for the County of
Huron.
DR. C: MACKAY
C.. Mackay honor graduate of Trin-
ity University, and gold medallist of
Trinity Medical College; member of
the College of Physicians and Sur-
geons of Ontario.
DR. H. HUGH ROSS
Graduate of University of Toronto
Faculty of Medicine, member of Col-
lege 'of Physicians and Surgeons of
Ontario.; pass graduate courses in
Chicago Clinical School of - Chicago;
Royal Ophthalmic Hospitals, London,
England; University Hospital, Lon-
don, England. Office—Back of Do-
minion Sank, Seaforth. Phone No. 5,
Night calls answered from residence,
Victoria street, Seaforth.
AUCTIONEERS
THOMAS BROWN
Idcensed auctioneer for the counties
of Huron and Perth. Correspondence
arrangements for sale dates can be
wade by Halling up phone 97, Seaforth
en The Expositor Office. Charges mod-
erate and satisfaction guaranteed.
R. T. LUITIR
Licenaed auctioneer for the County
of Huron. Sales attended to he all
porta otAbe county. Seven -years' ex-
pert In Manitoba and flaskatelm.
reasonable. Phone No.
`Sateedom left at The Huron
IN TIM
Clearing'
EF
IRWING BACHELLER-
CHAPTERI
The Melon Harvest.
Once upon a time I owned a water-
melon. -..I 'say once because I never
did it again. When I got through
owning 'that melon I never wanted,
another. 'The time was 1881' I<,•w,p
a boy of. seven and the melon was
the first of all my, harvests. Every
night and morning I.wat,ed• and felt.
and surveyed my 'watermelon. My
pride grew with the fnelon,_ and, by
and by, my uncle': tried to express
the •extept and nature 'of my riches
by calling me a meIlionaire.
I didn't know much about myself
those days except the fact that 'ray
name was art Baynes and, further,
that I was an orphan, who owned a
watermelon arid a little spotted hen
and lived on Kettle -road in a neigh-
borhood called Lickitysplit. , I lived
with my aunt,, Deal and my uncle
Peabody Baynes on a farm. They
were brother and sister—rhe about
thirty-eight and, she a little beyond
the far -distant goal of forty.
My father and mother died in a
scourage of diphtheria that swept the
neighborhood when I was a boy of
five. For a time my aunt Deel seem-
ed to blame me for my loss.
"No wonder they're dead," she
used to say, when out of patience with
me and—well I suppose that I must
have had an unusual talent for all
the noisy arts of childhood when I
broke the silence of that little home.
. The word "dead" set the first mile-
stone in the long stretch of my mem-
ory. That was because I tried so
hard to comprehend it and further
because it kept repeating its chal-
lenge to my imagination.
I often wondered just what had be-
come of my father and mother and
I remember that the day after I went
to my aunt's home a great idea came
tq,me. It came out of the old dinner
horn hanging in the shed. I knew
the .power of its summons and I sly-
ly captured the horn and marched
'around the house blowing it and hop-
ing that it would bring my \father
up from the fields. I blew and blew
and listened for that familiar halloo
of his. When I paused for a :drinic
of water at the well my aunt came
and seized the horn and laid it was
no wonder they were dead. She knew
nothing of the sublime bit of necrom-
ancy she had interrupted—poor soul!
I knew that she had spoken of my
parents for I supposed that they were
the only people in the world who
were dead, but I did not know what
it meant to be dead. I often called
to them, as I had been wont 'to do,
especially in the night, and shed many
tears because they came no more to
answer me. Aunt Deel did not often
refer directly to my talents, but I
saw, many times that no -wonder -
they -died look in her face
Children are great rememberers.
They are the recording angels—the
keepers of the bdok of life. Man
forgets—how easily! --and easiest of
all, the solemn truth that children dvo,
not forget.
A few days after I arrived in the
home of my aunt and uncle I slyly
entered the parlor and climbed the'
what -not to examine some white flow-
ers on its top shelf and tipped the
whole thing ovrr,.scattering its bur-
den of albums, wax Hovers and sea
shells on the floor. My aunt came
running on her tiptoes and exclaimed
Marcy! Come right nut of here this
minae—you pest!
I took some rather long steps gee-
ing out which were due to the fact
that Aunt Deel had hold of my hand.
While I sat weeping she' went back
into the parlor and began to pick up
things.
"My wreath! my wreath!" I heard
her moaning.
Trow well I remember that little
assemblage of flower ghosts in wax!
They had no more right to associate
with human beings than the ghosts
of fable. Uncle Peabody used to
call them the "Minervy flowers" be-
cause they were a present from his
Aunt Minerva. When Aunt Deel re-
turned to the kitchen where I Bat—
a sorrowing little refugee hunched
up in a corner—she said: "I'll have
to tell your Uncle Peabody—ayes!"
"Oh please don't tell my Uncle
Peabody," I wailed.
"Ayes! I'll have to tell him," she
answered firmly.
For the first time I looked for him
with dread at the window and when
he came I hid in a closet and heard
that solemn and penetrating note in
her voice as she said:
"I guess you'll have to take that
boy away—ayes!"
"What now?" he asked.
"My stars; he sneaked into the
parlor and tipped over the what -not
and smashed that beautiful wax
wreath!"
'Her voice trembled.
"Not them Minervy flowers?" he
asked in a tone of doleful incredulity.
¶Ayes he did!" -
And tipped over the hull what-
not?" i
"Ayes!"
"Jerusalem .four -corners!" he ex-
claimed. "I'll' have to—"
He stopped as he was wont to do
on the threshold of strong opinions
and momentous 'resolutions.
The rest of the conversation was
Bend tor free hoar
giving full partic-
ulars of Trench's
workl-famOus prep -
fixation for Epllopo.
and Pits — strop%
home treatment..
over 90 ran, somas& Totlfuoulalsfrornal1p0xfa
2601 Otaaatest Chambers, 79 Adelaidea.
Tomato. Ontario
answer, akd for a 1 time thereafter
Aunt Deel Acted as if she were about
-
dene with thenf. She.would go around
with a stern face Ss if unaware oi? his
ppresence, and I had tokeep out of
'her way. In fact I dreaded the but-
ternut trousers almost as much as
she did.
Once Uncle Peabody had put on
the butternut trousers, against the
usual protest,. to go' to meeting.
"Ayes! you've got' 'em on ag'in,"
said Aunt Deel. "Ic suppose your
black trousers ain't good enough:
That 'cause you know Edna Perry
is goin' to be there --ayes!
Edna Perry was a widow of about
his age, who was visiting her sister
in the neighborhood:.
Aunt Deel wouldn't go to church
with us, so we went off together and
walked home with Mrs. Perry. As
we passed our house I saw Aunt Deel
looking out of the window and waved
my hand to her.
When we got home at last we found
any aunt sitting in her armchair by
the stove.
"You did It—didn't ye?—ayes' she
demanded rather angrty as we%eame
in.
"Done what?" - asked Uncle Pea-
body.
"Shinin' up to that Perry woman—
ain't ye?—ayes! Isee you're bound
to git married—ayes!"
I had no idea what it meant to get
married but I made up my mind that
it was something pretty low and bad.
For the moment I blamed Uncle Pea-
body.
Aunt Deel's voice- and manner
seemed to indicate that she had borne
with him to the limif of her patience.
"Delia," said my uncle, "I wouldn't
be so -e" '
Again he. checked himself for fear
of going too far, I suppose.
"My heart! My heart! Aunt Deel
exclaitned and struggled to her feet
sobbing, and Uncle Peabody helped
her to the lounge. She was So ill
the rest of the day that my uncle had
to go for the 'doctor while I bathed
her forehead with cold water.
Poor Uncle Peabody! Every step
toward matrimony required such an
outlay of emotion and such a sacrifice
of comfort that I presume it seemed
te, he hardly worth while.
Yet I, must be careful not to give
tic reader a false impression of my
Aunt Deed. She was a thin, pale wo-
man, rather tall, with brown hair
,dad bine eyes mai -fr,rohgtie'--well,
her tongue has spoken for itself. I
suppose 'hat she •,viiseem inhuman-
ly selfish with this jealousy of her
orothrr.
"I promised ma that I would look
after you and I rn goin' to do it—
ayes!" I used to hear her say to any
uncle
There were not many married men
who were so thoroughly looked after.
This was due in part to her high
opinion of the Baynes family, and to
a general distrust of women. In her
view they were a designing lot. It
was probably true that Mrs. Perry
was fond of show and would have
been glad to join the Baynes family,
but those items should not have been
set down against her. There was
Aunt Dccl's mistake. She couldn't
allow any humanity in other wo-
men.
She toiled incessantly. She wash-
ed and scrubbed and polished and
dusted and sewed and knit from
morning until night. She lived in
mortal fear that company would
cone sncl find her unprepared—Alma
Jones or Jabez Lincoln, and his wife,
or Ben and Mary Humphries, or "Mr.
and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg." These
were- the people of whom she talked
when the neighbors came in and
when she was not talking of the
Bayneses. I observed that she al -
1 ways said "Mr. and Mrs. Horace
Dunkelberg." They were the con-
versational ornaments of our home.
"As Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg says,"
or, "as I said to Mr. Horace Dunkel-
berg," were' phrases calculated to
establish our social standing. I sup-
posed that the world was peopled by
Joneses, Lincolns, Humphries and
Dunkelbergs, but mostly by Dunkel-
bergs. These latter were very rich
people who lived in Canton village.
I know, now, how dearly Aunt
Deel loved her brother and me. I
must have been a great trial to that
woman of forty unused to the pranks
of children and the tender offices of
a mother. Naturally I turned from
her to my Uncle Peabody as a
refuge and a help in time of trouble
with increasing fondness. He had no
knitting or sewing to do and when
Uncle Peabody sat in the house he
gave all his time to me and we
weathered many a storm together
as we sat silently in his favorite
corner, of an evening, where I al-
ways went to sleep in his arms.
He and I slept in the little room
up -stairs, "tinder the shingles" ---as
uncle used to say. I in a small bed
and he in the big one which had
been the receiver of so much viol-
ence. So I gave her only a qualified
affection until I could 'see beneath
the words and the face and the cor-
recting hand of my Aunt Deal.
Uncle made, up the beds in our
room. Often his own •bed would go
unmade. My aunt would upbraid
him for laziness whereupon he
would say that when he got up he
liked the feel of that bed so much
that he wanted to begin :next night
right where he had left off.
I was seven years old when Uncle
Peabody gave me the watermelon
seeds. I put one of them in my
mouth and bit it -
U219 ]rd'BC n
U4e1 P bDdle90
the other.every da$ dtt ' t `�altlal';
fully anfl,. the vine 'throne
"What,ftialses it,grdw2" 1r-,aslied.'
"The ale.. salnb `thing: that maykes heat.
grow".'• said Uncle , Peabod�f ''YOga
can de lots of -things bat•Weeres Only
one thing' that, a watermelon can ,do
It can ipst .grow.-, See how It reaches
out toward the sunlightl Ii we were
to' pull'them dines around and try to
make °'em grow toward the north
they wouldn't mind us. They'd creep
back and go renal!? toward the sun-
light ag'In just 'as if they had a com-
pass to show 'em the way's
It was fiard work, I' thought; to go
down into the garden, night and morn-
ing, withmy little pail full 'of water,
but uncle said that I should getnig
pay when the melon was ripe. I had
also to keep the wood -box full and
feed -the chickens. They were odious
tasks. When I asked aunt Deel what
I should get for doing them she an
swered quickly.
"Noapanks and bread and butter—
eyes l"•
When I asked wh}ie�t were nospanks
she told me that they were part of
the wages of a good child. I was
better paid for my care of the water-
melon vine, for its growth was meas-
ured with a string every day and kept
me, interested. One morning I found
five blossoms on it. I •picked one
and carried it to Aunt Deel. Another
I destroyed in the tragedy of catch-
ing a bumblebee which had crawled
into its cup. In due time three small
mellons appeared. When, they were
as big as a baseball I picked two of
them. One I tasted and threw away
as I roan to the pump for relief. The
other I hurled at a dog on my way to
school.
So that last melon on the vine had
my undivided attention. It grew in
size and reputation, and soon I learn-
ed that a reputation is about the
worst thing that a watermelon can
acquire while it is on the vine. I in-
vited everybody that came to the house
to go and see my watermelon. They
looked it over and said pleasant things
about it. When I was a boy people
used to treat 'children and watermel-
ons with a like solicitude. Both were
a subject for jests and both produced
similar reactions in the human coun-
tenance.
Aunt Deel often applied the water-
melon test to my forehead and dis-
covered in me a capacity for noise
which no melon could rival. That act
*became very familiar to me, for when
my melon was nearing the summit of
its fame and influence, all beholders
thumped its rounded side with the
middle finger of the right hand, and
said that they guessed they'd steal
Kt. I knew that this was some kind
of S joke and a very idle one for they
had also threatened to steal me and
nothing had come of it.
At last Uncle Peabody agreed with
me that it was about time to pick the
melon. I decided to pick it immedi-
ately after meeting on Sunday so that
I could give -it to my aunt and uncle
at dinner -time. When we -got home
I ran for the garden. My feet and
those of our friends and neighbors
had literally worn a path to the mel-
on. In eager haste I got .my little
wheelbarrow and ran with it to the
end of that path. There I found
nothing but broken vines! The melon
had vanished. I ran back to the house
almost overcome by a feeling of a-
larm, for I had thought long of that
hour of pride when I should bring
the melon and present it to my aunt
and uncle.
"Uncle Peabody," I shouted. "my
melon is gone."
"Well I van!" said he, "somebody
must 'a' stole it."
"Stole it?" I repeated the words
without fully comprehending what
they meant.
"But it was my melon," I said with
a trembling voice.
"Yes and I vum it's too bad! But,
Bart, you ain't learned yit that there
are wicked people in the world who
come and take what don't belong to
'em."
There were tears in my eyes when
to
fe@ ,teuderJy,"
Bart, dcii
that old melon,!' ..
worth it.,. Come with MS*
to give you a 'preaent-r area I ;
was • still crying Ate
me to her trunk, and ' offered
grateful assuagement of candy and,
a, belt, all embroidered with blue and
white beads,
"Now you see, Bart, how low.and
mean anybody is that takes - what
.;don't belong to 'em—ayeal They're
snakes! Everybody hates 'em an'
stamps on 'em• when they come in
sight -ayes!" •
The abomination of the Lord was.
in her look and manner. How it
shook my soull He who had taken
the watermelon had also taken from
me something I was never to have
again, and a very wonderful thing it
was—faith id the goodness of men.
My eyes had seen evil. The world
had commuted its first offense a-
gainst me and my spirit was no long-
er the white and beautiful thing it
had been. Still, therein is the be-
ginning of wisdom and, looking down
the long vista of the years, I thank
God for the great harvest of the
' lost watermelon. Better things had
come in its place—understanding and
what more, often I. have vainly tried
to estimate. For one thing that sud-
den revelation of the heart of child-
hood had lifted my aunt's out of the
cold storage of a puritanic spirit,
and warmed it into new life and op-
enedits door for me.
In the afternoon she sent me over
to Wills' to borrow a little tea. I
stopped for a few minutes to play
with Henry, Wills—a boy not quite
a year older than I. While playing
there I discovered a piece of the rind
of my melon in the dooryard. On
that ,piece of rind I saw the cross
which I had made one day with my
thumb -nail. It was intended to in-
dicate that the melon was solely and
wholly mine. I felt a flush of anger.
"I hate you," I said as I approach
ed him.
. "I hate you," he answered.
"You're a snake!" I said.
We now stood, face to face and
breast to breast, like a pair of young
roosters. He gave me • a shove and I
told me to go home. I gave him a
shove and told him Il,.woul�ln't. I
pushed up close to igrh asjain and
we glared into each rue eyes.
Suddenly he spat in my face. I
gave him a scratch on the forehead'
with my finger -nail. Then we . fell'
upon each other' and rolled on the
ground and hit and scratched with
feline ferocity. 1
Mrs. Wills ran out of the house
and parted us. Our blood was hot,
and leaking through the skin of our;
faces a little. '
"He pitched on me," Henry ex-
plained.
"I couldn't speak.
"Go right home—this minute—you
brat!" said Mrs. Wills in anger.
"Here's you Don't you ever
come here ago.,,."
I took the tea and started down
the road weeping. What a bitter day
that was for me! I dreaded to face
my aunt and uncle. Coming through
the grove down by our gate I met
Uncle Peabody. With the keen eye-
sight of the father of the prodigal
son he had* seen me coming a long
way off" and shouted:
"Well here ye be—I was kind o'
worried, Bub."
Then his eye caught the look of
dejection in my gait and figure. He
hurried toward me He stopped as
I came sobbing to his feet.
"Why, what's the matter?" he
asked gently, as he took the tea cup
from my hand, and sat down upon
his heels.
I could only fall into his arms and
express myself in the grief of child-
hood. He hugged me close and beg -
t '. lb e
acre es e
and' is
said .my.
She 'dit
cause /Ingle Peab,
in his 'own "way;
to say nothing.
The worst was: i
but the. BayneFM1
gun. It led 'to baa
school yard and "On
We were eo event
quarrel went on for -a lopgi„ti
gathered intensity 09 it' 00
One'day Uncle ,Pealwodi
me an egg and said -that',
chicken in it.
"All ye have to do is to keel
warm an' the chicken will esm
life, and when the hen is off
nest some day it will see light throu
the shell and peck its way out,”, ,i
explained.
(Continued next week.)
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