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L. Taylor + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories + +Author: Annie Fellows Johnston + W. L. Taylor + +Release Date: May 2, 2012 [EBook #39593] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 401px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="401" height="600" alt="cover" /> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h1>AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO</h1> + +<div class='center'>AND OTHER STORIES</div> + + + +<hr class="chap" /><div class='bbox'> +<div class='adtitle1'>Works of<br /> + +<span class='big'>Annie Fellows Johnston</span></div> + + +<div class='adtitle2'>THE LITTLE COLONEL SERIES</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20px;"> +<img src="images/leaf.png" width="20" height="17" alt="leaf decoration" /> +</div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Little colonel books"> +<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel</td><td align="right">$.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Giant Scissors</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Two Little Knights of Kentucky </td><td align="right">.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel Stories</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">(Containing in one volume the three stories, "The</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little Colonel," "The Giant Scissors," and "Two</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Little Knights of Kentucky.")</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel's House Party</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel's Holidays</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel's Hero</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel at Boarding-School</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="center" colspan='2'>(<i>In Preparation</i>)</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Little Colonel in Arizona</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr> +</table></div> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20px;"> +<img src="images/leaf.png" width="20" height="17" alt="leaf decoration" /> +</div> + + + +<div class='adtitle2'>OTHER BOOKS</div> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Other books"> +<tr><td align="left">Joel: A Boy of Galilee</td><td align="right">$1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Big Brother</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Ole Mammy's Torment</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Story of Dago</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Cicely</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Aunt 'Liza's Hero</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Quilt That Jack Built</td><td align="right">.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Asa Holmes</td><td align="right">1.00</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Flip's "Islands of Providence"</td><td align="right">1.00</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Songs Ysame (Poems, with Albion Fellows Bacon) </td><td align="right">1.00</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 20px;"> +<img src="images/leaf.png" width="20" height="17" alt="leaf decoration" /> +</div> + + +<div class='center'><br /><br /> +L. C. PAGE & COMPANY<br /> +200 Summer Street Boston, Mass.<br /> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 342px;"><a id="frontis"></a> +<img src="images/frontis.png" width="342" height="450" alt="Woman sick in bed with two visitors" /> +<span class="caption">"AT FIRST HE ALWAYS BROUGHT SOME BOY WITH HIM" +</span> +<div class='right'> +(<i>See <a href="#Page_43">page 43</a></i>)<br /> +</div> + +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + + +<div class='bbox'> +<div class='adtitle1'>Cosy Corner Series</div> + +</div><div class='bbox'> +<h1>AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO<br /> + +<span class='small'>AND OTHER STORIES</span></h1> +</div><div class='bbox'> +<div class='center'>By<br /> +<span class='author'>Annie Fellows Johnston</span><br /> + + +<span class='small'>Author of</span><br /> +<span class='small'>"The Little Colonel Series," "Big Brother," "The</span><br /> +<span class='small'>Story of Dago," "Ole Mammy's Torment," etc.</span><br /></div> +</div><div class='bbox'><div class='center'> +<i>Illustrated by</i><br /> +W. L. Taylor and others<br /> +</div> +</div><div class='bbox'><br /><br /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 105px;"> +<img src="images/emblem.png" width="105" height="100" alt="Emblem" /> +<br /><br /></div> +</div><div class='bbox'> +<div class='center'> +<i>Boston</i> +<img src="images/leaves.png" width="125" height="15" alt="decoration: leaves" /> +<br /> +<i>L. C. Page & Company</i><br /> +<img src="images/leaves.png" width="125" height="15" alt="decoration: leaves" /> + <i>1904.</i><br /> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="chap" /> + + +<div class='copyright'> +<i>Copyright 1889, 1890, 1893, 1894, 1895, 1899,</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">By Perry Mason Company</span><br /> +<br /> +<i>Copyright, 1903</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">By L. C. Page & Company</span><br /> +(INCORPORATED)<br /> +<br /> +<i>All rights reserved</i><br /> +<br /> +Published August, 1903<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Colonial Press<br /> +Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.<br /> +Boston, Mass., U. S. A.<br /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + + +<h2>ACKNOWLEDGMENT</h2> + + +<p>These stories first appeared in the <i>Youth's +Companion</i>. The author wishes to acknowledge +the courtesy of the editors in permitting her to +republish them in the present volume.</p> + +<p>Messrs. L. C. Page and Company wish also +to acknowledge the courtesy of the editors in +granting them permission to use the original +illustrations.</p> + + + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 356px;"> +<img src="images/contents.png" width="356" height="250" alt="Contents decoration" /> +</div> + + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><span class='small'>PAGE</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Aunt 'Liza's Hero</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Captain's Celebration</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Jode's Circus Money</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Jimmy's Errand</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Washington's Birthday at Hardyville</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">An Old Daguerreotype</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illustrations.png" width="400" height="150" alt="Illustrations decoration" /> +</div> + + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><span class='small'>PAGE</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"<span class="smcap">At first he always brought some boy with him</span>" (<i>See <a href="#Page_43">page 43</a></i>)</td><td align="left"><i><a href="#frontis">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"<span class="smcap">She listened intently, expectantly</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"<span class="smcap">She sat smiling happily in the depths of the black sunbonnet</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">"<span class="smcap">Mr. Gates kicked his feet against the andirons</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Aunt 'Liza Barnes</span> leaned over the front +gate at the end of the garden path, and pulled +her black sunbonnet farther over her wrinkled +face to shade her dim eyes from the glare of the +morning sun. Something unusual was happening +down the street, judging from the rapidly +approaching noise and dust.</p> + +<p>Aunt 'Liza had been weeding her little vegetable +garden at the back of the house when she +first heard the confused shouting of many +voices. She thought it was a runaway, and +hurried to the gate as fast as her rheumatic +joints would allow.</p> + +<p>Runaway teams had often startled the sleepy +streets of this little Indiana village, but never +before had such a wild procession raced through +its thoroughfares. Two well-grown calves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +dashed past, dragging behind them an overturned, +home-made cart, to which they were +harnessed by pieces of clothes-lines and rusty +trace-chains.</p> + +<p>Behind them came a breathless crowd of +shouting boys and barking dogs. They were +gasping in the heat and the clouds of yellow +dust their feet had kicked up. Aunt 'Liza's +black sunbonnet leaned farther over the gate +as she called shrilly to the boy who brought +up the rear, "What's the matter, Ben?"</p> + +<p>The boy dropped out of the race and came +back and leaned against the fence, still grinning.</p> + +<p>"Running isn't much in my line," he panted, +as he wiped his fat, freckled face on his shirtsleeve. +"But it was too funny to see them +calves kick up their heels and light out. One +is Joe Meadows's and one is Jeff Whitman's. +They're broke in to work single, and pull all +right that way. But the boys took a notion to +make 'em work double. This is the first time +they've tried it. Put bits in their mouths, too, +and drive 'em with reins like horses. My! +But didn't they go lickety-split!"</p> + +<p>Aunt 'Liza chuckled. Seventy-five years had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +made her bent and feeble, but her sense of fun +and her sympathies were still fresh and quick. +Every boy in the place felt that she was his +friend.</p> + +<p>In her tumble-down cottage on the outskirts +of the town she lived alone, excepting when +her drunken, thriftless son Henry came back +to be taken care of awhile. She supported herself +by selling vegetables, chickens, and eggs.</p> + +<p>Most people had forgotten that she had once +lived in much better circumstances. Whatever +longings she may have had for the prosperity +of her early days, no one knew about them. +Perhaps it was because she never talked of +herself, and was so ready to listen to the complaints +of others, that everybody went to her +with their troubles.</p> + +<p>The racing calves soon came to a halt. In a +few minutes the procession came back, and +halted quietly in front of the little garden gate. +Jeff was leading the calves, which looked +around with mild, reproachful eyes, as if wondering +at the disturbance.</p> + +<p>"Aunt 'Liza," said Jeff, "can you lend me +a strap or something? The reins broke. That's +how they happened to get away from me."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You can take the rope hanging up in the +well-shed if you'll bring it back before night."</p> + +<p>"All right, Aunt 'Liza. I'll do as much for +you some day. Just look at Daisy and Bolivar! +We're going to take them to the fair next fall, +and enter them as the fastest trotting calves on +record."</p> + +<p>"Boys are such harum-scarum creatures," +said the old woman, as she bent painfully over +her weeding again. "Likely enough Jeff'll +never think of that rope another time."</p> + +<p>But after dinner, as she sat out on a bench by +the back door, smoking her cob-pipe, Jeff came +around the house with the rope on his arm.</p> + +<p>"Sit down and rest a spell," insisted the old +woman. "I get powerful lonesome day in and +day out, with scarcely anybody to pass a word +with."</p> + +<p>"Where's Henry?" Jeff asked.</p> + +<p>"Off on another spree," she answered, bitterly. +"I tell you, Jeff, it's a hard thing for a +mother to have to say about a son, but many +and many's the time I've wished the Lord had +a-taken him when he was a baby."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he'll come all right yet, Aunt +'Liza," said Jeff.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not he. Not an honest day's work has he +done since he left the army," she went on. +"He was steady enough before the war, but +camp life seemed to upset him like. He was +just a boy, you see, and he fell in with a rough +lot that started him to drinking and gambling. +He's never been the same since. Pity the war +took my poor Mac instead. <i>He</i> never would +'a' left his old mother to drudge and slave to +keep soul and body together."</p> + +<p>Jeff listened in amazement to this sudden +burst of confidence. He had never heard her +complain before, and scarcely knew how to answer +her.</p> + +<p>"Why, Aunt 'Liza, I never knew before that +you had two sons!" he said.</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose not," answered the old +woman, sadly. "I suppose everybody's forgotten +him but me. My Mac never had his +dues. He never had justice done him. No, +he never had justice done him." She kept repeating +the words.</p> + +<p>"He ought to have come home a captain, +with a sword, for he was a brave boy, my Mac +was. His picture is in the front room, if you've +a mind to step in and look at it, and his cap<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +and his canteen are hanging on the peg where +he left them. Dear, dear! what a long time +that's been!"</p> + +<p>Jeff had all a boy's admiration for a hero. +He took the faded cap reverently from its peg +to examine the bullet-hole in the crown. He +turned the battered canteen over and over, wishing +he knew how it came by all its dents and +bruises. The face that looked out from the +old ambrotype with such steadfast eyes showed +honesty in every line.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't look much like old Henry," +thought Jeff.</p> + +<p>"Won't you tell me about him, Aunt 'Liza?" +he asked, as he seated himself on the door-step +again. "I always did love to hear about the +war."</p> + +<p>It was not often she had such an attentive +listener. He questioned her eagerly, and she +took a childish delight in recalling every detail +connected with her "soldier-boy." It had been +so many, many years since she had spoken of +him to any one.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he was wounded twice," she told him, +"and lay for weeks in a hospital. Then he was +six months in a Southern prison, and escaped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +and joined the army again. He had risked his +own life, too, to save his colonel. Nobody had +shown more courage and daring than he. +Everybody told me that, but other men were +promoted and sent home with titles. My boy +came home to die, with only scars and a wasting +fever."</p> + +<p>Thrilled by her story, Jeff entered so fully +into the spirit of the recital that he, too, forgot +that McIntyre Barnes was only one among +many thousands of heroes who were never +raised above the rank of private. Mother-love +transfigured simple patriotism into more than +heroism.</p> + +<p>As age came on she brooded over the thought +more and more. Even the loss of one son and +the neglect by the other did not cause her now +such sorrow as that her country failed to recognize +in her Mac the hero whom she all but +worshipped.</p> + +<p>Jeff found himself repeating the old woman's +words as he went toward home late in the +afternoon:</p> + +<p>"No, Mac never had justice done him—he +never had his dues."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>Several days after that Jeff and Joe stopped +at the house again to borrow a pail.</p> + +<p>"We forgot to water the calves this morning," +Jeff explained, "and they've had a pretty +tough time hauling brush. They pull together +splendidly now. We've been clearing out Mr. +Spalding's orchard."</p> + +<p>"Look around and help yourselves," Aunt +'Liza answered, briskly. "When once I get +down on my knees to weed I'm too stiff to get +up again in a hurry. You'll find how it is, +maybe, when you get into your seventies."</p> + +<p>"Have you heard the news?" asked Joe, as +he held the pail for Daisy to drink.</p> + +<p>"No. What, boys?"</p> + +<p>"You know Decoration Day comes next +week, and for once Stone Bluff is going to +celebrate. A brass band is coming over from +Riggsville, and they've sent to Indianapolis for +some big speaker. There's going to be a procession, +and a lot of girls will march around, +all dressed in white, to decorate the graves."</p> + +<p>Aunt 'Liza raised herself up painfully from +the roll of carpet on which she had been kneeling. +A bunch of weeds was still clasped in her +stiff old fingers.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is it really so, Jeff?" she asked, tremulously, +as he started to the well for another +pail of water. "Are they going to do all +that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Aunt 'Liza."</p> + +<p>"If I cut down all my roses, won't you boys +take 'em out to the graveyard for me? I'm +afraid nobody'll remember my poor Mac."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course we will," they answered, +heartily. "But why can't you go yourself, +Aunt 'Liza? Everybody's going."</p> + +<p>Aunt 'Liza pushed back the big sunbonnet, +and looked wistfully across the meadows to +a distant grove of cedar-trees that were outlined +against the clear May sky.</p> + +<p>"It's been six years since I was out there. +I'm too old and stiff ever to walk that far +again, but nobody knows how I long to go +sometimes. I s'pose I must wait now until I'm +carried there; but then it'll be too late to do +anything for <i>him</i>."</p> + +<p>Jeff looked at Joe, then at the hopeless expression +of the wrinkled face.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what we can do, Aunt 'Liza," +he said, eagerly. "If you don't mind riding +in such an outlandish rig, the cart is big enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +to hold you comfortably, and we'll make the +calves pull you out there. Will you go that +way?"</p> + +<p>Two tears that were rolling slowly down the +furrows of her cheek dropped off suddenly as +she laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>"Why, bless your heart, sonny," she exclaimed, +pleased as a child. "I'd ride behind +a sheep to get there. What a fine picture we'll +make, to be sure! They'll put us in a comic +almanac."</p> + +<p>Then she added, solemnly, "I'll thank you +to my dying day, boys; and mark my words, +the Lord will surely bless you for your kindness +to a lonely old woman."</p> + +<p>When they were out of sight of the house Joe +lay down on the grass and rolled over and over +in a fit of laughter.</p> + +<p>"My eyes! what a figure we'll cut!" he +gasped. "We'll have to go early, or we'll +have a crowd at our heels."</p> + +<p>"Don't you suppose," said Jeff, "that the +grave will be in pretty bad shape, if she hasn't +been out there for six years? If it is, she'll +feel worse than if she had stayed at home."</p> + +<p>"There's a lot of 'em all grown up with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +weeds and briers, with nothing but 'Unknown' +marked on the headboards," answered Joe. +"Let's get a cartload of sod, and fix them all +up this afternoon."</p> + +<p>A little while later the rickety gate of the +neglected burying-ground opened to admit two +boys shouldering spades and driving a team of +calves.</p> + +<p>"Get up, Bolivar!" called Jeff; "you're +working for your country now."</p> + +<p>That Decoration Day was a memorable one +in Stone Bluff. The earliest sunshine that +streaked the chimney-tops and gilded the broad +Ohio, flowing past the little town, found Aunt +'Liza Barnes in her garden. She had stripped +her bushes of early roses, and her borders of all +their gay old-fashioned flowers, to twist into +wreaths to carry with her.</p> + +<p>When the morning train came puffing in +from Indianapolis a large crowd had assembled +at the station to catch a glimpse of Colonel +Wake, the orator of the day. Jeff Whitman +was there, painfully conscious of being dressed +in his best, and of having a dreaded duty to +perform.</p> + +<p>He watched the colonel step into Judge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +Brown's carriage, and as it disappeared from +view he walked slowly down the street in the +direction it had gone.</p> + +<p>All the morning Jeff hung around Judge +Brown's house, trying to make up his mind to +carry out his plan. At last he set his teeth +together, and resolutely opened the gate. He +felt ready to sink into the ground when the +judge himself opened the door. Jeff's voice +sounded far away and unnatural when he asked +permission to speak to Colonel Wake.</p> + +<p>In another moment the boy was in the +dreaded presence, nervously fingering his hat, +and trying to recall his carefully prepared +speech. Then at sight of the colonel's smiling +face his embarrassment vanished.</p> + +<p>Before he realized it he had poured out the +whole story of Aunt 'Liza's hero.</p> + +<p>"We are going to take her out there this +afternoon," he said, in conclusion. "She hasn't +been for six years, and maybe she won't live +to go another year. She says people always +praise Captain Bowles, who's buried there, and +Corporal Reed, and even the little drummer +boy, but they never say anything about her +Mac. And—and—well, I thought if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +knew what a splendid soldier he was, and the +brave things he did, maybe you'd just mention +him, too. It would please the old lady so +much."</p> + +<p>The colonel promised, and gave Jeff a hearty +handshake, saying he wanted to be introduced +to Mrs. Barnes, and would depend on Jeff to +point her out to him.</p> + +<p>Nearly every one walked out to Cedar Ridge. +The way was not long, and by-paths led +through shady lanes, where blackberry vines +and wild roses trailed over the fence-corners.</p> + +<p>Colonel Wake and the judge drove in a carriage. +The flower girls were drawn in a gaily +decorated moving car, and carried flags and +flowers. No one saw Aunt 'Liza in her strange +conveyance, for she had gone long before the +procession started.</p> + +<p>"How nice and green it is," she said, +fondly stroking the smooth sod. "I needn't +have worried all this time, thinking it wasn't +looked after. Somebody has been kind to my +Mac. I was going to give every single one of +these flowers to him, but now I want you boys +to take some of them and put a wreath on every +one of those six graves marked 'Unknown.'"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>When the procession came up she was sitting +on the same old folded quilt that had done duty +in the cart as a seat. She leaned contentedly +against the wooden headboard, marked simply, +"McIntyre Barnes," with the number of his +company and regiment. People looked at her +in surprise, wondering how she came there.</p> + +<p>The boys had hitched the calves out of sight, +on the other side of the hill; for being boys, +they could not bear to be laughed at.</p> + +<p>Overhead the spicy cedar boughs waved +softly in the May breeze. Below the bluff the +waters of the Ohio sparkled in the sun. During +all the ceremonies that preceded Colonel Wake's +speech Aunt 'Liza sat with her dim eyes fixed +on the Kentucky shore across the shining of +the river.</p> + +<p>While the band played and the choir sang +she never turned her gaze from it. Then the +clapping of hands that announced the speaker +seemed to arouse her. She listened intently, +expectantly.</p> + +<p>Colonel Wake was a true orator. He +swayed the listening crowd at his will, first +to laughter and then to tears.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a id="Page_28"></a> +<img src="images/i001.png" width="500" height="351" alt="Woman sitting on the ground" /> +<span class="caption">"SHE LISTENED INTENTLY, EXPECTANTLY."</span> +</div> + +<p>The boy's story that morning had greatly +interested him. At the close, after referring +tenderly to the unknown dead, and offering his +passing tribute to the others, he told the story +of McIntyre Barnes's heroic life.</p> + +<p>He told it as only an old soldier and an +eloquent speaker could tell it. The old woman, +sitting on her folded quilt on her son's grave, +threw off the black bonnet to catch every tone, +every gesture, and smiled up into his face with +proud, grateful eyes.</p> + +<p>She felt like a queen coming into a long-deferred +kingdom. That was her Mac he was +talking about! This great soldier knew him +and honoured him.</p> + +<p>Somebody called for three cheers for McIntyre +Barnes. As the lusty voices rang up +through the cedar boughs and echoed across the +water she bowed her head on the sod, and her +happy tears fell like rain. Perhaps it was the +speech that moved them. Perhaps it was the +sight of that wrinkled, tear-wet face; for when +the flower girls finished strewing their garlands +every grave had been decorated, but +McIntyre Barnes's had received more than all. +It was completely covered with fragrant bloom.</p> + +<p>The people who stood near could not help<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a><br /><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +smiling when the boys drove up with the little +cart to which the frisky calves were hitched. +But Aunt 'Liza was in such an uplifted frame +of mind that she would not have noticed had +they laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>The colonel came and shook her hands, saying +he was proud to know the mother of such +a son. After that everybody else came crowding +around to speak to her.</p> + +<p>The band started back toward town, playing +a lively quickstep, and the crowd soon dispersed. +The boys did not talk much as they +walked homeward in the sunset beside Bolivar +and Daisy.</p> + +<p>As for Aunt 'Liza, she sat smiling happily +in the depths of the black sunbonnet, and saying +over and over:</p> + +<p>"My Mac has had his dues at last. It was +a long time, but he's had justice done him at +last!"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/i002.png" width="500" height="320" alt="Woman in back of wagon" /> +<span class="caption">"SHE SAT SMILING HAPPILY IN THE DEPTHS OF THE BLACK SUNBONNET."</span> +</div><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>THE CAPTAIN'S CELEBRATION</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Is</span> there anything I can do for you, captain?" +Doctor Morris had made the rounds of +the hospital and was standing beside the bed +in a narrow little room at the end of the hall. +He took the old man's feeble hand in one of +his firm ones, and with the other gently stroked +the white hair back from his wrinkled forehead. +This seemed to smooth away some pain, +too, for the faded blue eyes looked up at him +with a grateful smile.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered, "there is. I don't like +to trouble you, doctor, but I do want a piece +of an old broomstick, and if I could have it +early in the morning, I'd be very much obliged +to you, sir."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A broomstick!" repeated the doctor, in +amazement, wondering if the old man's mind +was beginning to wander. "What under the +sun could you do with it?"</p> + +<p>A faint smile crossed the captain's face. +Then a spell of coughing delayed the answer +for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I want to carve something," he panted, +"and broom-handle wood is easy to cut. The +nurse has been like an angel to me all these +weeks that I have been in the hospital. Ever +since they moved me into this room by myself, +I've known that I haven't much longer to live, +and I want to leave her something to show +that I appreciate her kindness, and was grateful +for it."</p> + +<p>The doctor pressed the old man's hand as he +went on: "I've been thinking I would like +to make her a little chain. My grandfather +taught me to carve such things when I was a +lad. He was a Swiss, you know, and followed +my mother over to this country soon after I +was born. He was so old that all he could +do was just to sit under the trees and carve +little toys to amuse the children. I have his +pocket-knife yet," he added, with a smile of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +childish satisfaction that made the old face +pathetic.</p> + +<p>He looked down at his right hand, so twisted +out of shape that it was nearly useless. "I +can't do as good work as I used to do thirty +years ago, before that Minie ball crippled me," +he said. "But Miss Mary will make allowances; +she will know that I remembered and +was grateful, don't you think?" he asked, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Most certainly," answered the doctor, +stooping to arrange the patient's pillows more +comfortably about him. "But, captain, I am +afraid that I can't allow you to undertake anything +that will be a tax on your strength. You +haven't any to spare."</p> + +<p>So deep a shade of disappointment crept into +the old man's wistful eyes that the doctor felt +an ache in his throat, and drove it away with +a little laugh. "Pshaw!" he said, hastily. +"You shall have a mile of broomsticks if you +want them. I'll send my son Max up with one +inside the next hour."</p> + +<p>The gong had just struck the signal for dismissal +in the third-ward school building, +when the busy physician drove up to the curbstone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +in his sleigh to get his boy. "Max will +be down in a minute, Doctor Morris!" called a +boy, as he ran past the sleigh with his skates +slung over his shoulder. "Miss Clay kept some +of 'em to see about celebrating Washington's +Birthday."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Ned," answered the doctor. +He drew the robes closer about him as he +walked the horse up and down, for there was +a keen wind blowing this cold February afternoon. +Presently a group of boys loitered by +and stood on the corner, waiting for the rest +of Miss Clay's pupils to join them.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad Miss Clay isn't my teacher!" one +of them exclaimed, in a loud voice. "Skating's +too good now to waste time learning +to spout pieces."</p> + +<p>"Well, I think it's about time to give George +Washington a rest," said the largest boy in the +group. "He's a back number, and I'll tell her +so, too, if she asks me to say any of her old +pieces."</p> + +<p>"That's a pretty way to talk about the Father +of your Country!" piped up a little fellow in +spectacles, who was sliding on the ice in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +gutter. "Back number! I just dare you to +say that to Miss Clay!"</p> + +<p>The doctor overheard this, but he did not +hear the quarrel that followed, for Max came +running down just then, and climbed into the +sleigh.</p> + +<p>"You're late to-day, my boy. What's the +trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Clay kept us to arrange a programme +for Washington's Birthday, and nobody +wanted to take part. We're all tired of +the same old thing year after year—just songs +and recitations and dialogues about the same +old fellow!"</p> + +<p>"A fine lot of patriots this next generation is +going to turn out!" said the doctor, so sternly +that Max gave him a quick glance of surprise, +and then flushed at his evident disapproval. +The grim look crept into the man's eyes that +was always there when he was absorbed in a +critical case.</p> + +<p>"O papa, are we going home?" cried Max, +in a disappointed tone, as the horse turned in +that direction.</p> + +<p>"For a few minutes," answered Doctor Morris. +"I want you to take something to one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +of my patients at the hospital. I'll leave you +with him while I go on to the Berridge place."</p> + +<p>Max, who had expected a long sleigh-ride, +forgot his disappointment when he found that +Captain Wilshire was an old soldier, who bore +the scars of more than one battle. An internal +wound, received at Shiloh, still troubled him at +times, and exposure during the last year of the +war had brought on the consumption that was +now slowly taking his life away.</p> + +<p>"He is one of the truest patriots it has ever +been my honour to meet," said the doctor. "I +have known many statesmen in my time, several +generals and two Presidents. Any one +of them might well be proud to take off his +hat to Joe Wilshire. When you see the old +hero lying alone, Max, in that cheerless little +room in the hospital, I want you to think of +the reason why I so greatly respect him. It is +not simply because he was brave in battle, or +because his heroic cheerfulness kept him alive +through half a year in Libby Prison, or because +he came home with the seeds of disease planted +in his system and his good right hand crippled +and useless. Many a man has encountered these +tests, and yet has lost his zeal for his country<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +as soon as the cannon smoke cleared away and +the martial music was done."</p> + +<p>"Then why is it, papa?" asked Max, for +they had reached the house, and the doctor was +looking in the bottom of the sleigh for the +hitching-strap.</p> + +<p>"Well, when he came home, he was of course +poor. He made a meagre living for his wife +and baby with only a few acres of land and of +fruit-trees with which to do it. Several times +his old comrades suggested to him that he +ought to apply for some fat government office, +but he always said, 'Boys, I know that you +mean well, and that you and my friends could +probably get me in on the score of my being +a disabled soldier; but I know and you know +that I am not competent to fill such an office. +If I could fill an office, and at the same time +serve my country by doing so, I'd unhesitatingly +take one. But I'd only be serving myself +by filling my pockets at the government's expense. +No, I'm obliged to you, boys, but I +can't feel that it would be exactly honourable.'</p> + +<p>"Now that's patriotism, Max, of the highest +type, showing unselfish loyalty and love of +country!" exclaimed the doctor, as he sprang<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +out of the sleigh. "I was disturbed and hurt +just now, when I heard the boys talking about +Washington being a 'back number.' It hurt +because there is some truth in it. Wars call +out such generals, but there are too few men in +these times of peace who step into office with +Washington's high, unselfish motives. And I +fear the number is few of men who will deliberately +give up the honour and emolument of +office because they believe some one else can +render better service, or because principle pulls +harder than public purse-strings. Yes, such patriotism +is getting to be a 'back number'—so +far back that it has grown burdensome for +some people to honour it, even once a year."</p> + +<p>Max had seldom heard his father speak so +indignantly before, and looked at him in surprise +as he gave a final fierce tug at the knot he +had tied in the halter.</p> + +<p>An hour later, when Doctor Morris called at +the hospital, Max came running down-stairs +with his eyes shining and an old battered canteen +under his arm. "The captain gave it to +me!" he said. "He has ever so many old +relics in his chest, and there is a splendid story +about each one. O papa, isn't he just the lovablest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +old man? He asked me to come often +and bring some of the boys. He says he gets +so lonesome!"</p> + +<p>Nobody but the nurse knew how many +times Max climbed the hospital stairs during +the next two weeks. At first he always brought +some boy with him to listen to the captain's +stories, and carry away some relic as a treasured +keepsake from the chest beside his bed; +but later, the captain coughed too frequently to +talk much. Then Max came alone, with bunches +of hothouse flowers and little paper bags full +of tempting fruit.</p> + +<p>No matter when the boy came, he always +found the captain busy with his carving. Day +by day the old broomstick was slowly approaching +a wonderful transformation. It would soon +be turned into a long, slender chain, with each +tiny, separate link perfectly fashioned. Sometimes, +the nurse, not knowing that it was intended +for her, and wondering at the old man's +childish impatience to finish it, would gently +insist on taking it out of his feverish fingers.</p> + +<p>"Wait till to-morrow, when you are +stronger," she would urge. He would then reluctantly +give it up, but the thought of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +work stayed with him. Even in his sleep his +poor crippled hand bent as if to grasp it, and the +left one feebly repeated the motions of wielding +a knife.</p> + +<p>"I have set my heart on having it done by +Washington's Birthday," he whispered one day +to Max. "Oh, if I can only hold out to finish +it!" he added, as he sank back wearily. The +nurse put the unfinished work aside, but the +next morning he begged so imploringly for it +that she had not the heart to refuse.</p> + +<p>When the twenty-second of February came, +Miss Clay's schoolroom was in gala dress for +the occasion. She had been untiring in her +efforts to make the ceremonies a success, but +unconsciously to himself the old captain had +done far more than she to arouse an interest +in the programme.</p> + +<p>Max came first with his old canteen, and +repeated the story that the captain had told +him, of the brave comrade who had carried it. +Then one of the boys brought an old army +cape of faded blue, and another a broken spur. +Simple tales were told of love and loyalty that +had never found their way into print, but they +stirred the hearts of the hearers in the schoolroom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +with a pathetic tenderness for these unknown +men who had been so bravely true.</p> + +<p>Doctor Morris came into the room just in +time to see the big fellow stand up who had +declared the Father of his Country a "back +number." He, too, had been with the captain, +for he carried an old blood-stained, bullet-torn +flag. He told its history so well that the tears +came to his eyes in his earnestness, and the +audience sympathized with the feeling and applauded +him when he had finished.</p> + +<p>"I see that we have a member of the school +board with us," said Miss Clay, bowing to +Doctor Morris. "We want to hear from him +before we have our last song."</p> + +<p>This was the opportunity the doctor was +waiting for. He took a little package from his +pocket. It was the captain's finished chain, +from which hung a tiny anchor, beautifully +carved and polished. "The nurse showed this +to me a little while ago," he said, "and I +asked her to let me bring it here for you to see."</p> + +<p>The speech that followed was very much like +the one he had made to Max in the sleigh—all +afire with admiration for the man who, with +crippled hand and with empty pockets, had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +turned his back on office, for love of country, +for conscience' sake.</p> + +<p>"But of all the noble lessons of this old +man's life," he said, in conclusion, "none is +more beautiful in spirit than this last act; this +expression of gratitude to his faithful nurse. +What is so commonplace, so soon forgotten as +a bit of old broom-handle? But look at this." +Again he held up the chain. "See the transforming +power of a noble purpose! He has +made of it an anchor, and fastened to her heart, +with every link, the memory of his great gratitude.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to preach," he went on, "but +I must say that you young people, I fear, miss +the spirit with which the nation should honour +this day, if you do not see that the success of +its celebration depends entirely on this same +transforming power. A heartfelt gratitude to +the heroes who won and kept our liberty can +make beautiful the most commonplace act of +commemoration."</p> + +<p>Later, when the February afternoon was +nearing twilight, there was a muffled sound of +fife and drum on the hospital stairs. The many +feet stepped lightly, but with a measured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +tramp, tramp as Miss Clay's school marched +down the long corridor, four abreast.</p> + +<p>The captain had been delirious at intervals +all the afternoon. Now he opened his eyes +with a puzzled expression, for the martial music +made him forget his surroundings.</p> + +<p>"It's just the young people from the +school," explained the nurse, opening the door +wider, that he might see the long rows of +bright-faced boys and girls in the hall.</p> + +<p>Max came in and took the old soldier's +hand, stroking it affectionately while he +talked. "They're going to sing 'Hail Columbia,' +captain. You know how it goes:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Let independence be our boast,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Ever mindful what it cost,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Ever grateful for the prize!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"You see we never were really 'mindful +what it cost' until we knew you, captain," Max +went on, "so we never thought about being +especially grateful to anybody before. This is +a sort of thank-offering to such men as Washington—and +you."</p> + +<p>The captain tried to raise himself from the +pillows—tried to speak some word of greeting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +to the young people who were watching him, +but sank back exhausted.</p> + +<p>"I can't!" he said to the nurse in a voice +that trembled pitifully. "You tell them how +glad—how proud—" Then speech failed +him. The next moment the boys and girls +began to sing.</p> + +<p>A happy light came into the dim old eyes, as +the sweet voices were lifted up in the inspiring +airs that he loved so well.</p> + +<p>They marched out softly when the songs +were done, waving good-bye to him with their +handkerchiefs. Down the street the music of +fife and drum sounded fainter and fainter. The +room was growing dark.</p> + +<p>Max, who lingered behind, saw the white +head turn on the pillow and heard a long-drawn +sigh of satisfaction: "The dear children! +God help 'em to keep the old flag flying!" +And that was the captain's last audible +prayer.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>JODE'S CIRCUS MONEY</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was nearly school-time, but Jode didn't +seem to be at all in a hurry. He sat on the +wood-pile with the empty chip-basket beside +him, slowly untying his shoes. The old gobbler +strutted around the corner of the kitchen, +and halted suddenly with one foot drawn up, +as he caught sight of the red stockings.</p> + +<p>"Quit! quit!" he cried, stretching his neck +with an angry gobble.</p> + +<p>Aunt Jane had come to the door to shake the +table-cloth. She stood a moment, sniffing the +warm spring air, and peering up at the pink +peach-tree buds through her spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Quit! quit!" cried the turkey again, and +his angry voice attracted her attention.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mary Ann," she exclaimed, "I just +wish you'd see what that boy's a-doin'! It isn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +for me to say, but if he was <i>mine</i>, he'd not go +around barefoot this kind of weather. Next +thing will be croup. You'd better 'tend to +him."</p> + +<p>"Meddlesome old thing!" muttered Jode, +disrespectfully, throwing a chip at the gobbler. +"Both of you had to go and tell."</p> + +<p>The table-cloth whisked into the kitchen, followed +by the complaining voice, and soon after +his mother came to the door and called him.</p> + +<p>"Have you fed the calves, Joseph?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm."</p> + +<p>"And filled the chip-basket?"</p> + +<p>"Almost."</p> + +<p>"Then hurry, my son; it is nearly school-time."</p> + +<p>"I say, ma," he began, "can't I go barefooted? +It's plenty warm, and lots of the boys +do."</p> + +<p>"Why, no, child," she answered. "I told +you the other day not to think of such a thing +for another month at least. Put on your shoes +immediately, and don't let me hear another +word about it. It's of no use to tease."</p> + +<p>Jode knew that, perfectly. In all the ten +years of his varied experiences, it never had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +been of any use. Now, although the feet that +slipped back into the red stockings and stout +shoes were very loath to go, they went slowly +but surely in.</p> + +<p>"Wish't I was an Indian," he said, as he +went through the orchard, balancing his geography +on his head and swinging his lunch-basket, +while the dog frisked around him. He +had a queer way of talking to himself. "I +could stay out-doors all the time then, and never +have to go to school. Indians have a better +time than anybody, 'thout it's dogs. O Penny, +ain't you glad you're a dog?"</p> + +<p>The first bell was just beginning to ring +when he went through the gate at the end of +the lane, so he had plenty of time to stop when +he reached Squire Hooper's barn, and look at +the flaming show-bills with which it was covered.</p> + +<p>Johnny Harris was there ahead of him, and +he noticed, with a pang of envy, that his feet +were bare, and that his stubby toes were digging +up the soft earth, as he stood looking at +the pictures.</p> + +<p>"<i>I'm</i> goin' to the show," announced Jode, +proudly. "Our hired man said he'd take me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +if I'd pay. Pa always pays me every spring +for dropping corn, so I'll have more than +enough."</p> + +<p>Johnny did not say anything, for his father +was the drunken shoemaker of the little settlement, +and the cross-road tavern took all their +spare pennies. He stood and looked with longing +eyes at the pictures of the animals. He +knew what a stir there would be circus-day. +How the wagons would begin to rattle along +the roads at daylight from all directions; and +how the band would play in town; and the +frightened country horses would prance, and +the crowds of people would block the streets +to see the long, gay procession. But it would +be six miles away, and he would miss it all.</p> + +<p>While they looked at the side-show pictures,—the +fat woman and the two-headed +man and the African giant,—the second bell +began to ring and away they raced to the +schoolhouse. In his haste Jode left his geography +on the gate-post by Squire Hooper's +barn, and never thought of it again until after +the noon-hour, when they came tramping in +from the playground.</p> + +<p>"You are very careless, Joseph," said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +teacher. "Sit with Harris to study, and don't +let it happen again, sir."</p> + +<p>The boys put their heads together behind the +map of the New England States, and began +studying their boundaries.</p> + +<p>"Let's begin with the littlest," whispered +Jode. "And don't you talk to me, old fellow; +I don't want to be kept in again after school. +Rhode Island is bounded on the north by Massachusetts, +on the east by—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, say," interrupted Johnny, "I've got +some field-mice in a box at home. I was going +to bring them to-day, but was afraid the +teacher would take 'em away. They're the +cunningest little things! Come over after +school and I'll show 'em to you."</p> + +<p>"All right," whispered Jode, with one eye +on the teacher. "On the north by Massachusetts, +on the east by Massachusetts and Atlantic +Ocean, on the south by—"</p> + +<p>"Oh gracious! look there!" interrupted +Johnny again. "Look at Boney Woods! +What's he a-doin'?"</p> + +<p>Boney had his book propped up in front of +him. His head was bowed studiously over +his lesson, but his lesson was farthest from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +his thoughts. He had cut a piece of leather +from the top of his boot-leg, and was making +a pair of spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind him. Come on, and let's +learn this. I've got through half the day all +right, and don't want to spoil it all now. +Rhode Island is bounded on the north by +Massachusetts, on the east by Massachusetts +and Atlantic Ocean, on the south by Atlantic—"</p> + +<p>"I say, Jode," interrupted his seat-mate, "I +can pick up three marbles at a time with my +toes."</p> + +<p>"So could I," answered Jode, "if I didn't +have my shoes on."</p> + +<p>"Bet you couldn't!"</p> + +<p>"Bet I could!"</p> + +<p>"Take 'em off and try," coaxed Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll just show you," retorted Jode.</p> + +<p>There was a class in algebra at the board, +and the teacher was very busy explaining some +problem. "Let <i>x</i> equal the length of the fish," +he was saying. Jode raised his foot carefully +and began to untie his shoe.</p> + +<p>"And let <i>y</i> equal the length of its tail,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +continued the teacher, completely absorbed in +the problem.</p> + +<p>In a moment the shoe slipped off noiselessly, +and Johnny put three of his largest marbles in +a row on a crack in the floor.</p> + +<p>"Aw, that ain't fair," said Jode. "You +can't pick up that big Pompey yourself. Put +down three little grays."</p> + +<p>Johnny grumbled, but made the change, and +Jode triumphantly picked them up with his +toes.</p> + +<p>"There," said he. "What did I tell you?" +Just then one of the marbles began to slip. He +tried to regain his hold, and all three of them +dropped noisily, and went rolling across the +floor.</p> + +<p>The teacher turned quickly, and his eyes +fell, not on Johnny and Jode, but on Boney +Woods, who had finished the spectacles and +put them on, and was now lolling out his +tongue, and making hideous faces at the +smaller children.</p> + +<p>So intent was he on this, that he did not +know he was being watched, until the awful +stillness that had settled over the noisy room +warned him that something was the matter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +Then he faced around in his seat in great haste, +to make the discovery that he was the centre +of attraction.</p> + +<p>"Are you quite through with your little +exhibition, Bonaparte?" asked the teacher. +"Come here! Just as you are—don't take +them off."</p> + +<p>Poor Boney went up with fear and trembling.</p> + +<p>"I'll settle with you after school, sir. Take +a seat on the platform and study your lesson."</p> + +<p>Boney stumbled to his place, and sat looking +at his book, with hot, briny tears stealing down +under the huge spectacles. From past experiences +he had learned too well what that meant. +The school settled down into almost breathless +silence, and the guilty couple began to study +violently.</p> + +<p>"I can't get my shoe laced up without his +seeing me," whispered Jode, presently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, leave it off," begged Johnny, "and +slip the other one off, too. It feels awful good +to get rid of shoes." He stretched out his ten +little brown toes, and surveyed them with a +satisfied air. "See them feet?" he asked. +"Them old feet don't care for nothing but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +glass. They can stand rocks or anything. +Why, in summer, I can tramp down the thorniest +kind of bushes, blackberryin', and never +mind the briars a bit."</p> + +<p>"Aw, I wouldn't be such a brag," responded +Jode. Nevertheless, he silenced the inward +voice that reminded him of his mother's command, +and followed his little friend's example.</p> + +<p>It was soon time for the afternoon recess, +and they all went trooping out into the warm +sunshine, all but Boney, doomed to solitude +and the leather spectacles.</p> + +<p>Half a dozen boys crossed the playground, +and went to the blacksmith shop on the other +side of the road. Jode followed slowly, for the +sticks and stones hurt his bare feet, and his +conscience hurt him more, as he remembered +his mother's parting instructions.</p> + +<p>As usual the good-natured blacksmith was +busy at his anvil, and paid no attention to the +crowd of boys making themselves at home in +his smithy. A seedy-looking stranger on a +mule rode up to the door to have a loose shoe +fastened in place.</p> + +<p>"Be keerful, young 'uns," he drawled, "this +'ere mewel's heels is loaded."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>The boys shoved back a little to give the newcomer +more room, and then kept on shoving +each other in play. The end boy fell against +Johnny, and Johnny fell against Jode, and +Jode took another step backward. This time +his little bare foot came down on the piece of +hot iron that the blacksmith had thrown aside +when he went to wait on his new customer.</p> + +<p>Jode never distinctly remembered what happened +after that, he was so nearly crazed with +the fierce pain. He knew that the blacksmith +lifted him in his strong arms, and carried him, +screaming, to the house. He felt some woman +bandage his foot with something cool and +soothing, and wash his hot, flushed face. Then +two of the big boys carried him home, and laid +him on the sitting-room lounge, and went off, +forgetting to close the door.</p> + +<p>He sat up and called his mother. No one +answered. Everything was so still about the +house that his own voice sounded strange when +he called. Then he remembered that she had +gone to a quilting that afternoon, and that +Aunt Jane had built a fire away down by the +ash-hopper and was making soap. So it was +useless to call.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + +<p>Three or four chickens, seeing the door open, +seized that opportunity to venture in, and +walked around pecking at the carpet, and looking +inquiringly at the disconsolate figure on +the lounge.</p> + +<p>"Shoo!" he cried, savagely, "you tormentin' +old things!" Then he hopped across +the room and banged the door after them, and +hopped back.</p> + +<p>The throbbing pain in his foot, and the +deserted appearance of the house, brought the +tears to his eyes. Then he remembered the +show, and that his foot would not be well +enough for him to earn the money dropping +corn. He would have to miss it. Throwing +himself on the lounge again, he cried softly to +himself with great sobs that nearly choked +him.</p> + +<p>When his mother came home, she found +him fast asleep with cheeks and lashes wet, and +sobbing at intervals in his sleep.</p> + +<p>Aunt Jane undertook to lecture him next day +about his disobedience and what it led to, but +he began to cry again, and she relented.</p> + +<p>"Well, Joseph," she said, looking over her +square-bowed spectacles, "I guess you've had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +a hard lesson, and one you won't forget in a +hurry. As long as your heart's set on goin' +to that show, if you'll learn to sew carpet-rags +I'll pay you by the pound, and you can earn +the money that way."</p> + +<p>So Jode went patiently to work with thread +and needle, and all those long April days sat in +the house with his foot on a pillow, and sewed +yards and yards of carpet-rags.</p> + +<p>The pounds grew slowly, but the day came +at last when he rolled his balls into the sack +with Aunt Jane's, and two new silver dimes and +a nickel jingled in his pockets.</p> + +<p>Johnny Harris came every day to ask about +the foot, and see the size of the balls. He +looked enviously at the shining coins when +Jode proudly displayed them.</p> + +<p>"Gracious! Ain't she pretty?" he exclaimed, +spinning one of the dimes around +on the table. Then he balanced it on his +thumb-nail, and tried its edge with his teeth, +and finally put it in his mouth, while he watched +Aunt Jane get out the steelyards, to weigh the +warp for the new carpet.</p> + +<p>Presently he turned to Jode with a white, +scared face. "Oh, I've done swallered it!"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You mean old thing," cried Jode. "I +worked days and days to earn that dime. O +Johnny! what <i>did</i> you do it for?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to," protested Johnny, +eagerly. "It just slipped down as easy—this +way." Suiting the action to the word, he +took up the other dime, and popped it into +his mouth.</p> + +<p>"I was rolling it 'round with my tongue this +way, and I sort o' choked, and it just slipped—ker-che-ew!"</p> + +<p>Unlucky Johnny! This dime slipped also, +for a mighty sneeze seized him, and sent the +money rolling across the floor. Both boys +darted after it with outstretched hands, but it +bounced through the open door, and slipped out +of sight behind the old stone steps. It was +useless to attempt to move them. The toys +of half a century had found a hiding-place in +that crack, and Aunt Jane herself had, years +ago, seen it swallow up the cherished treasure +of her childish affection—a string of amber +beads.</p> + +<p>Johnny stood in open-mouthed horror at +what he had done, while Jode's gaze wandered +from the steps to Johnny, as if he saw the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +whole menagerie, animals, tent and all, disappearing +down that gaping crack and the little +red throat. It was more than he could bear.</p> + +<p>"It's all <i>your</i> fault, Johnny Harris; if it +hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have burnt +my foot in the first place. I just can't bear +to do it all over again, and besides, there isn't +time anyway."</p> + +<p>He lifted his hand angrily, and slapped +Johnny's fat, freckled face. Then both the +boys began to cry.</p> + +<p>Aunt Jane disappeared in the closet for something, +and stood there a moment, shaking with +inaudible laughter, till the square-bowed spectacles +slid down her nose. She looked very +stern, though, when she came out and said, +"There! there! boys, that's enough. It's no +use to cry over spilled milk or swallowed +money, either."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, ma'am, Miss Jane," begged +Johnny, "won't you teach me to sew carpet-rags? +I'll pay him back sure if you'll let me."</p> + +<p>Aunt Jane looked at the clumsy little hands, +brown, dirty, and covered with warts, and +shook her head. It seemed a hopeless task. +But the earnest look on the face and in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +anxious eyes made her relent, and she gave a +reluctant promise.</p> + +<p>The rag-sewing commenced again. This +time two boys sat on the door-step, longing to +be out in the spring wind and sunshine, and +one nursed his lame foot, and one wrestled +manfully with thread that would snarl, and +needles that would stick into his clumsy fingers.</p> + +<p>As they sewed they talked, and the subject +that came up oftenest was the circus. How +Johnny longed to go! After awhile a hope +whispered to him, that maybe he could pay his +debt to Jode in time to earn enough money to +go himself.</p> + +<p>Although Aunt Jane sorted the rags so that +most of the short ones fell to her lot, and the +long ones to Johnny's, and contributed many a +yard on the sly, Jode's foot was well before +Johnny proudly paid over the two dimes, and +only a long, red scar remained, to remind Jode +of his disobedience and punishment.</p> + +<p>"Wisht I was goin', too," sighed Johnny, +when the last pound was weighed and delivered.</p> + +<p>Then, regardless of ceremony, he pulled his +hat over his eyes, and started home on the run.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +He did not go all the way. Aunt Jane spied +him when she went to the barn for eggs. He +was lying on the hay with his face in his +arms.</p> + +<p>She stood and looked at him a moment, +thinking what an honest little heart it was, +beating under the patched, faded jacket,—thinking +of his drunken father and his miserable +home,—of how much he wanted to go +with the other boys, and how keenly he felt +his poverty.</p> + +<p>Then she took the eggs to the house, and +tying her sunbonnet tighter, started resolutely +down the lane to the big road in the direction +of Johnny's home. The hand under her gingham +apron gripped firmly an old leather purse.</p> + +<p>That evening as Jode sat in the twilight, +just inside the door, listening to the frogs +croaking in the meadow-pond, a dusky little +figure came running down the path. It was +Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Hi! Jode," he cried, "I'm a-goin', too! +I'm a-goin', too! I'm too glad to hold still. +The money jest rained down like the manna on +ole Moses! I don't know who left it, but it +was left at our house, and it was left fer me!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, throwing himself on the ground, he +turned one somersault after another down the +path into the dewy darkness of the warm April +night.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>JIMMY'S ERRAND</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Well</span>, I declare if Abe isn't the most forgetful +boy I ever saw!" exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, +as she emptied the contents of a large +market-basket upon the kitchen table. "This +makes the second time he's been to town and +back this week, and he's forgotten that soda +both times. Jimmy!" she called out to a +freckle-faced boy who was making the old dog +walk around the kitchen floor on its hind feet, +"climb up to the top pantry shelf and see if +there's any spice left in those tin boxes."</p> + +<p>"What are you going to make, ma?" languidly +inquired a pale girl who sat by the +stove shaking with a chill.</p> + +<p>"Why, I intended to make a cake for the +new preacher's donation-party," answered Mrs. +Perkins. "That's what the committee asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +for—marble-cake and biscuits. Did you find +anything, Jimmy?"</p> + +<p>"No'm. They're all empty." The boy +jumped down and went back to the patient old +dog, which he now converted into a wheelbarrow +and trundled around on its clumsy +fore paws.</p> + +<p>"What shall I do!" exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, +in despair. "There's not a speck of spice +or soda in the house."</p> + +<p>This was before the days of baking-powder, +and it was eight miles to the nearest town.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you," answered Maria, with her +teeth chattering. "Let Abe saddle old Blaze +and go up to Doctor Spinner's. He always +keeps such things on hand, and we can send +for some more quinine at the same time."</p> + +<p>"And be about as likely to get soap and knitting-needles +as anything else!" replied her +mother, with a frown. "It's a pity a boy as +old as Abe is can't be trusted to remember anything!"</p> + +<p>"Let Jimmy go," suggested Maria. "It's +only three miles, and he can easily get back +by dinner-time."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Perkins, "I don't know of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +any reason why he shouldn't be trusted with the +horse, and he can be depended on to do the +errand a sight better than Abe."</p> + +<p>Jimmy's freckled face beamed with delight. +He had expected to spend the morning hoeing +in the garden. He had been waiting the last +half-hour for his father to call him and set him +at work; but it was not the prospect of escaping +a disagreeable task or of cantering along +the road on the old blaze-faced horse that +pleased him most. It was the fact that his +mother and Maria regarded him as more trustworthy +than Abe, and Abe was nearly grown.</p> + +<p>He had never before so completely appreciated +his true worth nor felt such a sense of +his own importance as when his mother entrusted +him with the errand, and gave him a +message for the doctor's wife. Maria's words +of praise were still in his ears when he ran +down the path, hitching up a broken suspender +as he went.</p> + +<p>"What are you up to now?" inquired Abe, +as Jimmy walked into the barn in a lordly way +and took down the saddle.</p> + +<p>"Up to takin' a ride," answered Jimmy, in +a way that nettled his older brother.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not on that saddle, you ain't!" retorted +Abe. "I'm goin' to mill."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll have to ride bareback," was +the cool reply. "I'm goin' on an errand for +mother, and, what's more, I'm goin' to have +the saddle. Can't I, pa?" he asked, as his +father came in.</p> + +<p>"No, Jimmy," answered his father, when +both boys had stated the case. "Abe is bigger, +and he's got the farthest to go."</p> + +<p>Abe laughed provokingly. "I don't care!" +muttered Jimmy. "<i>You</i> couldn't be trusted +to do the errand. Mother said so. So you +needn't laugh."</p> + +<p>Abe's face flushed. He knew his failing, and +did not like to be reminded of it.</p> + +<p>"You can take Maria's side-saddle!" called +Mr. Perkins, as he went on out to the corn-crib.</p> + +<p>"Better not," remarked Abe. "It's brand-new, +and she'd feel awful bad if anything +should happen to it. It might get spoiled."</p> + +<p>Jimmy did not want to take it, and had not +intended to do so, but the spirit of contrariness +seemed to have possession of him. That remark +settled the matter. "You might spoil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +it," he said, "but I guess Maria'll trust me to +bring it home safe, if I am ever so much smaller +than you!"</p> + +<p>Presently, seated astride the new side-saddle, +Jimmy rode up to the kitchen door.</p> + +<p>"You don't care if I take it, do you?" he +called to Maria. She wrapped herself more +closely in the heavy shawl, and came out into +the warm sunshine, her teeth still chattering.</p> + +<p>"No, I guess not," she said, putting out her +shaking hand to feel the soft plush of the cushioned +seat. "Isn't that a pretty shade of red? +It's the handsomest one in the township. Oh, +don't forget, Jimmy; mother said to ask Doctor +Spinner to put up another bottle of tonic +like that he gave me last spring."</p> + +<p>"All right!" said Jimmy, impatient to be +off.</p> + +<p>Digging his heels in old Blaze's sides, he +started down the road on a gallop. This was +too lively a gait for the old horse to sustain +long, and she soon settled down to a steady +walk.</p> + +<p>For the first half-mile Jimmy sat very erect, +with a growing sense of his own importance +and superiority over his brother Abe. Then he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +yielded to the gracious influence of the sweet +spring morning, and, throwing one foot over +the pommel of the saddle, began to whistle in +answer to a redbird's call.</p> + +<p>Presently he tired of riding sidewise, and +by the time he reached the field where the +Fishback boys were dropping corn he was up +on his knees. Inspired by spectators, he urged +his horse to go faster and faster, and scrambling +to his feet as he came up with them, +passed them with a cheer. They stopped their +work long enough to look after him and wave +their hats until he disappeared around a bend +in the road.</p> + +<p>"It's a mighty nice thing," he thought, complacently, +"to be able to ride around the country +this way, when everybody else has to work."</p> + +<p>By this time he had reached the bridge across +Pigeon Creek. It was shallow enough to ford +at this place, and he concluded to try it. Clattering +down the bank, he rode into the water +with a splash. Overhead the great branches +of the sycamore-trees leaned across the stream +and met each other. It was cool and shady, and +so still that the only sound he could hear was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +the gurgling noise old Blaze made as she bent +her head to drink.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a shrill whistle made him start so +violently that he almost lost his balance, and +clutched at the loosened bridle to save himself +from falling. Looking in the direction of the +whistle, he saw two big bare feet dangling from +a sycamore limb that hung half-way across the +stream. Glancing up, he saw the owner of the +feet. It was Coon Mills, the laziest, most +"trifling" fellow in that part of the country—so +everybody said.</p> + +<p>There was no need to ask him what he was +doing, when the white blossoms of the dog-wood-trees +had been proclaiming for a week, +from every hill and hollow, that the fishing +season had begun. His luck as a fisherman was +as proverbial as his laziness.</p> + +<p>"What have you got?" called Jimmy. For +answer Coon held up a string of catfish, so +large that Jimmy gave a long whistle.</p> + +<p>"I've jes' been a-pullin' 'em out as fast as +I could throw in my line," he said. "Thar +hain't been nothin' like it sence ole Noah's +time."</p> + +<p>"My! You must be a-seein' fun," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +Jimmy, watching him enviously as he baited +his hook and tossed it into the water. +"Wouldn't I like to try it, though!"</p> + +<p>"Come on, if yer want ter," answered Coon. +"Thar's another line in my basket, and you +kin cut a pole from the sprouts agin that stump +down yender."</p> + +<p>"I ought to be a-goin'. I've got an errand +to do," answered Jimmy. "But I would like +to haul in just one."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come on!" insisted Coon. "You can +spare ten minutes, can't you?"</p> + +<p>There was an attractiveness about this overgrown, +good-natured fellow that all the smaller +boys found irresistible. Jimmy could have +said "no" to any of his younger companions, +but he was flattered by Coon's notice, and an +invitation from him was a temptation beyond +his strength to resist.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later old Blaze was tied to a +sapling. Another pair of feet dangled from the +sycamore limb, another line dipped into the +water, and unbroken silence reigned again along +the shady river.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour passed, but Jimmy, +with his eyes intent on the bobbing cork, took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +no notice of the flight of time. Then a thrill +went through him as he felt a pull on his line, +and in his excitement he almost fell off his +perch into the water.</p> + +<p>"It's the biggest fish of the season!" Coon +declared, as he helped haul it in. "You're in +luck, Jim; you'd better try it agin."</p> + +<p>Old Blaze gnawed the bark off the sapling as +far as she could reach, and then stamped and +whinnied in vain. Still Jimmy sat on the +sycamore limb, confident of success after his +first great triumph, and unable to tear himself +away without one more trophy.</p> + +<p>Coon drew up his line at intervals, and each +time Jimmy's determination to catch one more +increased. The minutes slipped by, but he did +not notice them, nor did he realize that the sun +was nearly overhead.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, the unmistakable notes of a dinner-horn +echoed through the woods. Startled +into the consciousness that he had idled away +the whole morning, Jimmy started for the bank +in such haste that his feet slipped on the smooth +bark, and he fell across the limb. He scrambled +desperately around, and managed to draw +himself up again, but in doing so lost his hold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +on the fish. He saw it go tumbling into the +water.</p> + +<p>A hearty laugh from Coon followed him +down the bank and along the road, as he galloped +furiously away.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Spinner thought somebody must be +dying or dead when she saw Jimmy come dashing +up to the house in such haste, and hurried +out to ask the news.</p> + +<p>"The doctor's just gone," she said, after he +had told his errand, and delivered his mother's +message. "He had a call down to old Mr. +Wakeley's, and left in the middle of his dinner. +Law me, it's too bad! You'd better wait, +though. He'll likely not be gone very long. +Come in and have something to eat, won't +you?"</p> + +<p>Jimmy's inclination was to refuse, but his +hunger overcame his bashfulness, and he followed +Mrs. Spinner into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>She had already eaten her dinner, and kept +on with her work, pausing often, in her busy +going back and forth, to give him some dish, +or hospitably urge him to help himself.</p> + +<p>"You'd better go into the office to wait," +she said, as he pushed his chair back from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +table. "The doctor'll surely be along pretty +soon."</p> + +<p>The little room, standing by itself in the +front yard, did double duty as office and drug-store. +Jimmy sat down on the bench beside +the door, and studied the odd assortment of +bottles on the opposite shelves. He counted +them and read all the labels. Then he saw a +case of dentist's instruments lying on the table. +He examined these curiously, fitting the forceps +on each of his teeth, and then looked around for +other sources of amusement.</p> + +<p>Several books with leather bindings lay on +the desk, and he sat down to look at them. +Books were few in the Perkins household, and +the first one he opened proved very entertaining. +It was an illustrated work on anatomy, +and he was soon completely absorbed in the +interesting pictures of bones and muscles.</p> + +<p>The afternoon was sultry and still. A few +flies buzzed on the window-pane. Just outside +the door an old hen clucked and scratched for +her downy yellow brood. Jimmy could look out +and see some one ploughing in a distant field, +and hear a lusty voice at intervals, calling, +"Gee! Haw! W'-o-a!" to the yoke of oxen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<p>After a long while, when sitting so still had +made him drowsy, he went to the door and +looked up and down the road. No one was in +sight. Even the sun had gone behind a cloud. +He began to grow uneasy, as he thought of his +mother waiting impatiently for the soda to +begin her baking.</p> + +<p>"If the doctor isn't here by the time I finish +looking at the books," he said to himself, "I'll +go anyway, without waiting for Maria's medicine."</p> + +<p>He went back to his chair and turned to the +pictures again. Presently he began to yawn. +Then his eyelids drooped, and his head nodded +so low that it rested on the open book upon +the table. He knew nothing more until he felt +Mrs. Spinner shaking him by the shoulder. He +started up to find the little office nearly dark.</p> + +<p>"I plumb forgot all about you," Mrs. Spinner +said, "until the doctor sent word he +couldn't come home to-night. Old Mr. Wakeley's +a-dying. You'd better hurry away, for +there's a heavy thunder-storm coming up."</p> + +<p>She weighed out the soda and spices, wrapping +each package separately, and then tied +them together in one bundle. It was about the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +middle of the afternoon when Jimmy had gone +to sleep. Now the sun had set. The sky was +black with clouds, and as he hurriedly mounted +his horse and tied the bundle to the horn of +the saddle he heard a distant rumble of thunder. +Old Blaze was as anxious to get home as her +rider, and needed little urging to make her +travel her fastest.</p> + +<p>They were going directly toward the storm. +By the time they had travelled a mile and a +half its full force was upon them. The wind +blew furiously and whirled the dust along the +road in blinding columns. It twisted and tossed +the tall trees as easily as if they had been +bushes. Great limbs swayed wildly, and now +and then one crashed to the ground. Once, +when she was a colt, old Blaze had been hit +by a falling branch in a thunder-storm, and +had never forgotten the terror of it. Now, as +a vivid glare of lightning blinded her, she +reared, plunged forward, and then stood trembling, +with dilated eyes and quivering nostrils.</p> + +<p>They were in the midst of a thick wood. +No amount of urging would induce the mare +to go on, and Jimmy got down to lead her. +Something of the horse's fear seemed to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +communicated to the boy. He was naturally +brave, but the ferocious power of the storm +awed him into utter fear.</p> + +<p>The rain poured harder and harder. Jimmy +was wet to the skin, and the water ran down +in streams from his hat brim. He pushed +ahead for a long time, wondering why he did +not come to the creek. Instead of reaching +open country, he seemed to be getting deeper +into the woods. Then he remembered that +two bridle-paths led into the main road—one +directly into it, the other around the base of +the hill. He had taken the wrong path and +was travelling in a circle.</p> + +<p>By the time he reached his starting-point +again the storm had abated. The wind did not +blow so hard, and the thunder had gone growling +away toward the eastern hills. He led the +horse up to a stump, climbed into the saddle, +and this time started on the right path homeward.</p> + +<p>As he rode down the lane a lantern glimmered +in the dooryard and moved toward the +barn. "Well, you <i>air</i> a purty fellow!" called +Abe's voice. "Mother's mighty nigh wild<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +about you. She jest now sent me down to git +a horse to go out and hunt you."</p> + +<p>Jimmy slid from the saddle without saying +anything. When Abe saw how pale and wet +he was, he added, in a kinder tone, "I'll put +the horse up. You take your things and strike +for the house."</p> + +<p>He lifted the lantern in order to see to untie +the package, and then gave an exclamation of +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Well, I wisht you'd look! The rain has +melted every bit of that soda. There's nothin' +left but the bag. And the spice is all sp'iled, +too. My gracious!" he added, after another +look, "it's run down all over the saddle, and +taken the colour out. My! Won't Maria be +mad? It's eternally ruined! Well, I must +say I like your way of doin' errands!"</p> + +<p>It was a very penitent, humble boy who crept +into the kitchen and gave a shamefaced account +of the day's doings. Maria, who had sat with +her face hidden in her apron during the storm, +shuddering at the thought that he might be +out in it alone, ran to get him some dry clothes, +without a word of reproach about the saddle.</p> + +<p>"I'll save enough out of the garden truck<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +to get it re-cushioned," he promised. "Sure +I will, Maria."</p> + +<p>But Maria gave him a little squeeze. "Don't +you worry about that, Jimmy," she said, "so +long as you got home safe. It don't make so +much difference about the soda, either, for we +got word this afternoon that the donation-party +has been put off."</p> + +<p>His self-respect was restored by such a warm +reception, and his spirits rose until he began +to think he was something of a hero, after all. +As he ate the supper his mother had been keeping +hot for him, she and Maria listened sympathetically +to his account of the storm.</p> + +<p>Abe, who had come in from the barn and +was drying his boots by the fire, said nothing, +but his quizzical smile was more provoking than +words. It reminded Jimmy of the boastful +speech he had made that morning.</p> + +<p>He grew red in the face, stopped talking, and +soon made an excuse to slip away to bed. As +he lay listening to the rain on the roof, he said +to himself, "I wisht I hadn't bragged so about +doin' errands better than Abe! He'll never be +done a-hinting to me about soda and side-saddles!"</p> +<hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2>WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY<br /> +AT HARDYVILLE</h2> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Blame</span> that pig-headed Schmidt!"</p> + +<p>Squire Hardy was in the sitting-room talking +to his wife. "To think of his kickin' just +because the little schoolma'am is bound to celebrate +the day! Her askin' for nothing except +leave to use the schoolhouse! Confound him! +The rest of the Germans'd be patriotic enough—they +are all 'round these parts—if Schmidt +wa'n't so everlastingly down on us, and used +his influence with the rest!"</p> + +<p>"He's a well-meaning, peaceable neighbour, +Hiram," said the squire's wife, placidly.</p> + +<p>"So's horses and cows. Gimme folks that's +got some public spirit in 'em. Think of the men +that took up the land all round these parts when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +we come in—all full of Fourth of July. I +wisht they hadn't been so keen to sell out at a +profit—that's the worst of us Americans. +When they sold out, of course the Germans +come in,—couldn't blame 'em a mite,—an' +Schmidt he come fust, an' he bejuggled all the +rest. An' he's pretty nigh bejuggled the +Gateses and two or three other American families +like 'em, that's gettin' more like Schmidt +year by year. Why, there ain't been a mite of +public improvement done this ten year back."</p> + +<p>"Oh, now, Hiram, we've got the post-office."</p> + +<p>"Yes—much thanks to the rest of 'em! It +was me worked and kicked and badgered till +I got them a tri-weekly mail, and much use +they make of it!"</p> + +<p>The squire gazed at the post-office as he +spoke. It consisted of an ash "seketary" in +one corner of the sitting-room, and was much +more than commodious enough for the few +letters and newspapers that came to Hardyville +three times a week, brought from the +county town, eight miles away, by a carrier +with a gig. The squire was delivering his +opinions as usual while waiting for the carrier +to appear.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't rec'lect much public improvements +ever bein' in Hardyville," said Mrs. Hardy, +drily.</p> + +<p>"There would 'a' been," said her husband, +testily. "There would 'a' been if the Americans +had kept on. To think of them beginning +to sell out and move furder west—just +as they were gettin' their land into shape for +havin' some time to themselves to improve +things! Thank goodness, they <i>did</i> put up the +church and schoolhouse—I guess we'd never +have had neither if it wasn't for the American +spirit here when this settlement begun."</p> + +<p>"Sho, Hiram? You can't say but what the +German folks keeps the church and schoolhouse +going."</p> + +<p>"Going—yes, going to rack and ruin all the +same! Schoolhouse leakin' like sixty—and +catch 'em taxin' themselves for a new roof! I +wonder Miss Atworth can stay in the place—her +and the children mirin' shoe-mouth deep in +mud to get to school in the winter! Nary a rod +of corduroy will they lay to give their own +young ones a decent walk. But they keep their +cattle comfortable enough—that means money +in their pockets. All they care about is having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +their corn and stock turn out well. They don't +care if the hull township, and the hull Union, +too, for that matter, was to go to the dogs. +Hello! here comes Jack with the mail-bag!"</p> + +<p>A little while later Squire Hardy was in the +act of distributing the bag's small contents, +when two farmers walked in without even +stopping to stamp the mud off their cowhide +boots. Mrs. Hardy kept on placidly knitting +beyond the fireplace; she was used to such invasions +of the sitting-room, from which she +had removed the carpet soon after the post-office +was granted to the sleepy settlement.</p> + +<p>"Draw up to the fire, Mr. Gates," she said, +hospitably. "Take that rocker, Mr. Schmidt."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gates kicked his feet against the andirons +to rid them of clay and snow.</p> + +<p>"Cold day," he remarked, settling his coon-skin +cap more firmly on his head. "What's +this I hear about the new teacher?"</p> + +<p>"Well, what?" snapped the squire, looking +around.</p> + +<p>"Some say she's dead sot on gettin' up +them doin's on Washington's Birthday."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a id="Page_93"></a> +<img src="images/i003.png" width="500" height="286" alt="man standing by fireplace" /> +<span class="caption">"MR. GATES KICKED HIS FEET AGAINST THE ANDIRONS"</span> +</div> + +<p>"Well, s'pose she is?" said the squire. "She +ain't askin' nothin' but the schoolhouse for an +evening, and I've got power to let her have +that. I'm school agent, ain't I?"</p> + +<p>"I don't say the contrary. But to my way +of thinkin', she's just a-wastin' time over a +lot of foolishness. Hey, Schmidt?"</p> + +<p>"Yah, das ist so!" assented the man in the +rocking-chair, as he took his pipe from his +mouth. "I tolt mein poy I shust dook him +oudt of school and put him to voork ven I hear +some more of dose grazy idees."</p> + +<p>"Crazy? Nothing crazy about it!" interrupted +the old squire, hotly. "I'll just tell +you, gentlemen, it was a mighty good deed old +Abel Dawson quit teaching here. He'd run +along in the same old rut for the last ten year, +till things had just about dried up. I made +a visit to 'em last fall. I put some questions +to the scholars, too. There wa'n't but four +out of the hull of 'em that was exactly sure +who the President of these United States was. +Nary one could name the Vice-President!"</p> + +<p>"Dey lairn goot vot vos in de book," said +Schmidt.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" roared the squire. "Abel stood +over them with a rod, and frightened the spelling-book +into 'em till they could say it off,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a><br /><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +back'ards or forrards. But they was like a lot +of skeered parrots that didn't understand what +they <i>was</i> saying."</p> + +<p>"Dot vos more goot as learn 'em yoost +foolishness—badriodism und der flag und all +dot plab 'bout der country und der Union."</p> + +<p>"Look out, now, Schmidt! I ain't goin' to +set still and hear you calling patriotism 'blab.' +I tell you in only nine weeks Miss Atworth's +got the poor little souls waked up. They never +knew before that they <i>had</i> a country. History +and geography mean something to them now. +She'll make intelligent citizens out of 'em if +you'll keep your hands off. I'm out in my guess +if she don't give this whole township a shakin' +up before this thing is over, and teach 'em some +public sperit."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gates gave a sniff. "They say she's +had a piano hauled out from the city, too," he +said. "Hope she don't intend to levy on the +parents to pay for it. She'll get nothing out of +me. I'll tell her that right now."</p> + +<p>"Shucks!" cried the squire, as he handed +Schmidt his <i>Zeitung</i>. "Neither of <i>you</i> needn't +worry. She's too smart to expect to get blood +out of turnips."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Vell, all I haf to say," was Schmidt's parting +remark, as he wound his blue woollen +muffler about his neck, "if she keeps on mit +dose voolishness, I dake mein Karl oudt of +school, right avay alretty. Dot vos better dot +he voork as to vaste his time so."</p> + +<p>"Poor little Miss Atworth!" sighed Mrs. +Hardy, as she watched the two men tramp off +together. "I'm powerful glad she's boarding +with us. The whole neighbourhood is down on +her new-fangled ways. I'm going right out +now and make something extry nice and hot +for supper. It's pretty near sundown, and she'll +come in soon all wore out with her day's work."</p> + +<p>The little teacher did need the good cheer and +"extry nice" supper that awaited her in the +cosy kitchen, for she had felt much discouraged +as she trudged homeward through the falling +snow. Her pupils had nearly all been telling +her the same thing that day. It was that their +parents scouted the idea of helping her to celebrate +Washington's Birthday.</p> + +<p>She had come from a distant town to teach +the Hardyville school in hope to lay up enough +money to complete her art course; but now it +seemed to her that something more important<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +than art demanded her services and the small +sum she had saved. The dull, colourless lives +of the children appealed irresistibly to her +sympathies, and she was often amazed at the +utter absence of any spirit of patriotism.</p> + +<p>"How could the poor children learn patriotism?" +said Mrs. Hardy. "Their parents don't +feel it, except for their Vaterland. And certainly +nothing has been done by the public +round here to make the children love this country. +Such lives! The parents get up before +daylight, and dig till dark. They usually force +the boys and girls to live like overworked +horses. All they think of is making money. +That big room up-stairs in the schoolhouse was +built for a public hall. It has not been opened +for fifteen years for any kind of an entertainment, +not even a magic lantern show. It is +the same old treadmill existence year in and +year out. The children don't get their lives +brightened—no public holidays are celebrated +here, not even the Fourth of July. How can +they love the country?"</p> + +<p>"I shall certainly give them something better," +Miss Atworth had said, and the upshot +was her determination to celebrate Washington's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +Birthday. The indifference or hostility +of the parents had but roused her American +spirit, even to the resolve that she would bear +the entire expense herself, if none would contribute +from their plenty.</p> + +<p>"Ten dollars," she reflected, "will buy decorations +and material for costumes and stage +curtains. Another ten will rent a piano. Most +of the children have never even seen one. All +my spare time must go to getting up the +entertainment, and all my savings, too. Well, +I'm glad—I guess I can give up so much +for my country. It will be worth while if +I can make its 'Father's' birthday the greatest +gala day these poor little souls have ever +known."</p> + +<p>Not a particle of encouragement did she get +from any of the parents except Peter Dowling, +a one-armed veteran of the Civil War, and he +was much more discouraging than he meant +to be.</p> + +<p>"Go on, I wish you luck, young lady," he +would observe. "You can count on me for anything +a one-armed man can do. But what's +the use? I've tried and tried to get some +'Merican sentiment into these youngsters.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +'Tain't no go—and never will be. But you +can count on me to hooray for you all the same. +I'll be thar if nobody else is."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you tried to scold them into patriotism, +as the squire does," said the little teacher. +"I don't think that's the best way."</p> + +<p>"It didn't work, anyhow," said the veteran, +and walked away.</p> + +<p>Miss Atworth's programme, besides the decoration +of the schoolhouse, comprised tableaux +and the recitation of patriotic poems and addresses +by her larger pupils. But most of the +children soon received strict orders to hurry +home at four o'clock, to attend to the milking +and evening chores. They were also kept at +work till the last possible minute in the morning. +But with only noon-time and recess for +practising their parts, her enthusiasm worked +wonders.</p> + +<p>"It ought to be a grand success," said Miss +Atworth, as she took a final approving survey +of the decorations the afternoon of the twenty-first. +"Only it's a little too warlike. I wish +I had an old-fashioned pruning-hook to hang +across that sword between the windows."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Schmidt has one," volunteered Sarah<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +Gates. "But he's so mad about our wasting so +much time, as he calls it, that it's as much as a +fellow's head is worth to ask him for it. I +heard him tell pa he was going to keep Karl +at home to-morrow night. Isn't that mean?"</p> + +<p>"Keep Karl at home!" cried Miss Atworth, +in dismay. "He couldn't be so mean as that!"</p> + +<p>Karl was the brightest pupil in her room—a +big, manly boy of sixteen. He was kept at +home every spring and fall to help with the +work, although his father was not poor. She +had taken an especial interest in him from the +first, had drilled him carefully in his declamation, +and counted on him as the star of the +entertainment.</p> + +<p>"Pa wasn't going to let me come, either," +continued Sarah, "till ma told him you'd +picked me out of all the school to be the Goddess +of Liberty, and that I was going to have +a gold crown on, and gold stars spangled over +my dress. Ma's awful proud because I was +chosen to be a goddess."</p> + +<p>The little teacher smiled. She was not without +worldly wisdom, and had given Sarah such +a prominent part in the hope that it might +conciliate the whole Gates family. Fortunately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +nothing was required of the goddess but long +hair and a pretty face—about all Sarah had +to boast of. She simply could not learn.</p> + +<p>Miss Atworth locked the door and started +rapidly homeward. What should she do if +Karl must be left out of the performance? A +quarter of a mile brought her to the lane leading +from the pike to the Schmidt place, and +there she stopped with sudden resolve.</p> + +<p>"I'll beard that old lion in his den, and ask +him for his pruning-hook. That will be an +excuse for going, and will give me an opportunity +to plead Karl's cause."</p> + +<p>It was nearly dark when Miss Atworth ran +up the squire's front walk, and danced through +the house into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Oh, such luck!" she cried, gaily. "I went +to see Mr. Schmidt, and some good angel +prompted me to speak to him in German. +It was such bad German—perhaps that's +what pleased him. Anyway it thawed him +right out. He lent me his pruning-hook, +and showed me over his big barn. Of +course I admired his fine cattle, and then, as he +got more and more pleased at my showing +such an astonishing lot of sense, I praised Karl<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +so highly that he made a complete surrender. +He is coming to-morrow night to bring the +whole Schmidt family, from the old <i>grossmutter</i>, +to the baby. Hurrah for Washington's +Birthday!"</p> + +<p>Never had the old public hall held such an +astonished and delighted audience as the one +that crowded into it that memorable night. +Gay festoons of bunting, countless little flags, +and wreaths of evergreen transformed the +dingy old place completely.</p> + +<p>A large picture of Washington placidly +beamed from its place of honour. Over and +around it, reaching almost across the stage, +was draped a great silken flag, borrowed for +the occasion.</p> + +<p>Peter Dowling, in his old blue army clothes, +with one sleeve pinned across his breast, sat +far back, looking bewildered by the wonders +the little teacher had accomplished.</p> + +<p>Miss Atworth had arranged the programme +with great tact. Each child felt prominent, and +those who, she secretly knew, would be failures +in anything else, were honoured beyond measure +when she skilfully grouped them into a +series of effective historical tableaux.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's enough to make even a graven image +feel patriotic," whispered Squire Hardy to his +wife, as the children's sweet voices made the +room ring with the grand old national airs.</p> + +<p>Declamations followed each other in rapid +succession. Then came a scene, with recitations, +in which Uncle Sam and all the States +of the Union took part. The very air seemed +charged with the little teacher's electrical spirit +of patriotic enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>It was at its height when Karl came forward +to give the famous speech of Patrick +Henry. His delivery was so much better than +the rehearsals had led her to expect that even +Miss Atworth was surprised. He seemed to +find an inspiration in the crowd. A storm of +applause followed the "Give me liberty or give +me death."</p> + +<p>"What shall we do?" she whispered in dismay +as the persistent clapping of many hands +called him back. "I wish you had prepared +for an encore."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know!" said Karl, and in another +instant was on the stage again.</p> + +<p>In the deep hush that followed, his clear, +musical voice rose in German. He was reciting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +"<i>Mein Vaterland</i>." Old grandmothers +who knew but a few words of English rocked +themselves back and forth in excited delight; +Mr. Schmidt beamed with vast smiles; many +an eye grew dim, thinking of the old beloved +home across the seas. But the boy was thinking +of his own native country. There was +no mistaking his meaning, as he turned in +closing, to wave his hand toward the portrait +and the flag:</p> + +<p>"My Fatherland!" he cried with true feeling, +and then, after a moment of general surprise, +deafening applause broke out.</p> + +<p>As it subsided Miss Atworth stepped forward +to announce the last song, but Peter Dowling, +his face aflame with new delight and old memories, +rose, stalked up the aisle as if unconscious +of all the eyes fixed on him, and swung +himself up on the high platform with one long +step.</p> + +<p>"Friends," he began, "I've been livin' kind +of dead among ye for many's the year. Now +I want to say a word or two. I ain't no great +at speechifyin', but these old songs and pieces +we've been a-listenin' to have spirited me up +like the trumpet doos an old war-horse."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + +<p>As he spoke he waved the stump of his right +arm so vigorously that the empty sleeve was +torn from its pinning across his breast and +flapped pathetically.</p> + +<p>"I want to say," he went on, "that I fit for +that old flag, and yet, livin' here so long, and +never a celebration for young or old, I'd half +forgot my patriotism. It's our school-teacher +has woke me up to seeing the truth. Now that +we hev beat our swords into pruning-hooks, +and peace has pitched her tent alongside ours +to stay, I can't help thinking there's danger in +settlin' down too comfortable and off gyard +like.</p> + +<p>"This country," he raised his voice higher, +"ain't teaching its children enough of the +feelin' of patriotism. It takes the same kind +of principle to make a good citizen that it doos +a good soldier. It ought to be the very bone +and sinew of every school in this whole land. +I could talk all night on that subject, now I've +got started. But what I want to say is this:</p> + +<p>"I propose that we all get out our pocket-books, +and throw in to get a handsome flag to +fly over this schoolhouse. Take an old soldier's +word for it, there ain't no greater inspiration<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +anywhere, to make a fellow put in his best +licks, and come out on top. Now, Miss +Teacher, I'll just get the sense of this meeting."</p> + +<p>He paused a moment, then turned to the +audience: "All who want to express their +thanks for this evening's entertainment, and +are willing a collection should be took, say +aye!"</p> + +<p>Such a storm of ayes followed, that Peter +caught up his slouched hat and began to pass +it around, with his only arm. Dimes and quarters +clinked into it, while an occasional dollar +showed how deeply selfish hearts had been +stirred by the uplifting influences of the +hour.</p> + +<p>Miss Atworth seated herself at the piano, +and beckoned to the bewildered Goddess of +Liberty to lead the States again across the stage. +Some of the smaller ones straggled sadly out +of line, but as Karl, at a nod from his teacher, +caught the great flag from its place and stood +with it in the midst of them, every voice rang +out full and true on the chorus:</p> + +<div class='poem'> +"Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">We'll rally once again,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Shouting the battle-cry of freedom!"</span><br /> +</div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> + +<p>People seemed loath to go when it was all +over. They came up to the teacher with awkward +expressions of pleasure and appreciation.</p> + +<p>"I'll never forget this night," drawled one +faded, overworked woman, to whose eyes the +rich colours and tinsel of the stage decorations +had seemed a part of fairyland. "That music +was so sweet, and my little Meta looked like +a picture with her hair curled, and that beautiful +dress on you made her. I really didn't +know she was so pretty. I'm going to fix her +up and get her a lot of nice things after this."</p> + +<p>"Well, it was worth while," said the little +teacher, as she dropped into a chair at home, +too tired to take off her wraps.</p> + +<p>"Indeed it was," answered the squire. "Jake +Schneider's new patriotism rose so he said he'd +put a walk on each side of the school for half +a mile, even if nobody'd help him. Then a lot +of 'em began to talk it over. The upshot was +that old Schmidt is going to give the logs, and +they're all going to work to-morrow to hew +them off and stake them down."</p> + +<p>The next Monday morning Karl stopped at +Miss Atworth's desk to say joyfully, "O +teacher! father was so pleased. He is going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +to hire another hand and let me keep on till the +end of the term."</p> + +<p>"Then I need never regret my sacrifice," +thought the happy girl.</p> + +<p>That celebration was the beginning of better +times in Hardyville. When the doors were +barred for vacation, and the grass grew rank +on the bare playground, the new flag still +floated from the schoolhouse belfry.</p> + +<p>Many a boy catching sight of the glorious +flag as he plodded through the furrows behind +his plough, felt himself lifted beyond the +bounds of his little horizon, to some great plane +of endeavour where all great things were possible. +Still those beckoning folds teach a silent +lesson of loftier ideals, and a broader humanity +to people whom the little teacher thrilled with +her enthusiastic spirit.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>AN OLD +DAGUERREOTYPE</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Caleb Speed</span> pushed back his chair from the +dinner-table with anger and disgust in his face. +The door had just banged behind a big, hearty +boy of seventeen, whom he could still see +through the narrow window trudging off +toward the barn.</p> + +<p>The lively whistle that sounded through the +closed windows seemed to aggravate the man's +ill-temper. He walked over to the fireplace, +and kicked the smouldering logs with his heavy +boot.</p> + +<p>"If there's any one thing that riles me all +over," he exclaimed, angrily, "it's having that +boy always setting himself up to be in the +right, and everybody else in the wrong!"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, he 'most generally is in the right," +answered Caleb's wife, clearing the table. "It's +remarkable what a memory Jerry has, 'specially +for dates. At the quilting here last week the +women folks were trying to settle when 'twas +old Mis' Lockett died, and Jerry knew to the +day. He said 'twas two days after Deacon +Stone's cows were killed by lightning, and that +happened on the thirteenth of September, just +a hundred years to the very day after Wolfe +captured Quebec. You can't trip Jerry up in +history."</p> + +<p>"Well," answered her husband, impatiently, +"he needn't be so sassy about it. We had a +dispute over them same cows. I was telling +the new minister about the storm, and I happened +to say they was standing under a pine-tree. +He chipped in, 'Why, no, it wasn't, +uncle; it was an oak.' 'It was a pine!' says +I. 'No, it wasn't; it was an oak,' says he.</p> + +<p>"Just then Hiram Stone came by, and Jerry +yelled to know which 'twas. Hiram said, +'Oak.' Then Jerry grinned as malicious, and +said, 'I told you so! I knew I was right!' +If he hadn't been my dead sister's only child<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +and the minister looking on—" Caleb stopped +in anger.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Speed made no comment. She was +fond of her husband's nephew. He had grown +to be almost like a son in the five years he had +lived with them. They were not old—not +many years older than Jerry; for Caleb's sister +had been older than he.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Speed only laughed at the patronizing +manners which he sometimes assumed, to the +great annoyance of his young uncle. But Caleb +Speed was too dogmatic himself to tolerate +such a spirit in any one else.</p> + +<p>"He sha'n't sit up and contradict me at my +own table!" Caleb declared. "I'll thrash him +first! He's got to show me proper respect. +He needn't think because I've given him advantages +that I couldn't have myself, that he +knows it all, and I don't know anything!"</p> + +<p>"Now, Caleb, what's the use? It's only +Jerry's way," said Mrs. Speed, soothingly.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" she sighed, as Caleb went to +his work. "It's a pity they can't get along as +they used to. Caleb's so touchy he can't stand +anything. I must tell Jerry to be more careful."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + +<p>But when Jerry came in to supper and began +his lively joking, she forgot the little lecture +she had planned.</p> + +<p>"The Spencers are going to move West next +week," remarked Mr. Speed. "Land's cheap, +and I guess they need more elbow-room for +such a big family. Greenville is a mighty +thriving place, they say."</p> + +<p>"You mean Grandville, don't you, uncle?" +suggested Jerry.</p> + +<p>"I generally say what I mean, young man!" +was the curt reply.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's Grandville, anyway!" persisted +Jerry, feeling in his pockets. "Jack Spencer is +out there now. I got a letter from him yesterday +begging me to go out there to him. Oh, +here it is! Look at the postmark. It <i>is</i> Grandville! +I knew I was right about it."</p> + +<p>Nettled by the tone and his own mistake, +Mr. Speed finished his supper in moody silence. +The boy had no idea how his habit had grown, +or how sensitive his uncle had become in regard +to it. "Why, Aunt Lucy," he insisted, when +she remonstrated with him, "I never contradict +people unless I know positively that they +are wrong!"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Maybe," she answered. "But what real +difference does it make whether the weasels +killed five chickens or six, or that it was the +black pig and not the spotted one that rooted +up the garden? Those are such little things +to bicker about, just for the satisfaction of +saying, 'I told you so!'"</p> + +<p>She imitated Jerry's tone and manner so well +that he laughed a little sheepishly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll turn over a new leaf," he promised, +"just to please you."</p> + +<p>Caleb Speed's farm was in southern Maine, +near the coast. Jerry had grown up with the +sound of the sea in his ears. It had long sung +only a meaningless monotone to the boy, but it +had begun to fill him with something of its +own restless spirit. And about this time the +Spencer boys were urging him to go West.</p> + +<p>"No," he answered; "I owe it to Uncle +Caleb to stay here. He was too good to me +when I was a little shaver for me to leave him +now when he needs me. He shall have the +best service I can give him until I am twenty-one; +then I'll be free to follow you."</p> + +<p>But there came a crisis. Uncle Caleb gave +Jerry a sum of money to pay a bill in town.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +There was a five-dollar piece in a roll of bills, +and the gold-piece had disappeared.</p> + +<p>Jerry insisted that he could not have had +the money. "I <i>know</i>, Aunt Lucy. Uncle +Cale handed me the roll of bills, and I put it +down in this pocket, and never touched it till +I got to town. When I took it out there were +the bills just as he had handed them to me, +and not a thing more."</p> + +<p>"Maybe there's a hole in your pocket," she +suggested.</p> + +<p>She turned it wrong side out, but found no +place where a coin could have slipped through.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's a mystery where it went," she +said. "I can't understand it."</p> + +<p>"Pooh! It's no mystery," answered Jerry, +contemptuously. "Uncle simply didn't give +it to me. He thought he had rolled it up in +the bills, but was mistaken. That's all!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" cried Caleb, +jumping up white with anger. "I tell you it +<i>was</i> wrapped up in the bills, and if you can't +account for it, you've either lost it or spent it!"</p> + +<p>Jerry bounded up-stairs to his room, stuffed +his best suit of clothes into a little brown carpet-bag, +and then poured out the contents of an old,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +long-necked blue vase. He had thirty dollars +saved toward buying a horse of his own. Then +he marched defiantly down-stairs to his uncle.</p> + +<p>"I never saw or touched your gold-piece," he +declared, "but I'll not go away leaving you to +say that I took any of your money!"</p> + +<p>He threw down a five-dollar bill and started +to the door. As he turned the knob, he looked +back at the woman by the fireplace, with her +face in her apron.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Aunt Lucy," he said, with a +choke in his voice. "You've been awful good +to me—I'll never forget that!"</p> + +<p>Then he shut the door abruptly, and went +out into the night. It lacked only five minutes +of train-time when he reached the station, determined +to go to a cousin of his father's who +lived in Vermont, and write from there to Jack +Spencer that he would work his way out West +as soon as he could.</p> + +<p>Tingling with the recollection of his uncle's +reproaches, the boy sat up very straight and +wide-awake in the train for a long time. Then +his tension relaxed, and for lack of something +else to do, he felt in his pocket for Jack Spencer's +letter. As he pulled it from its envelope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +something else fell into his hand. It was a +gold-piece.</p> + +<p>He could scarcely believe his eyes as he sat +dropping it from one hand into another. How +had the coin got into the letter. For a time he +could not guess; then the truth suddenly became +clear to him.</p> + +<p>The letter had been in his breast-pocket when +he stuffed the roll of bills into it, and the coin +must have slipped into the open end of the +envelope as he pushed the bills down. When +he began to search for the money he had +changed the letter to another pocket, never +dreaming that it contained anything except +Jack's glowing description of prairie-life.</p> + +<p>Jerry had been keeping his anger warm all +the way by telling himself that his uncle had +been harsh and unjust. He had even pictured +to himself with grim satisfaction how shamefaced +Caleb would look sometime when he +should come across the coin among his own +possessions. And now he had to think of himself +as the blunderer and the unjust, foolish +person.</p> + +<p>But now no apology could be too humble. +He would get off at the next station and take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +the first train home. The case called for an +immediate reconciliation.</p> + +<p>Then he reasoned that as he had paid for +his ticket, he might as well go on to his journey's +end and have a short visit. It would be +easier, perhaps, to write than to speak his apology.</p> + +<p>Jerry soon found his elderly cousin, Tim +Bailey, who happened to be working just then +in a new store—a combination of a book-store +and an old-fashioned daguerreotype gallery; +not old-fashioned then, for it was before +the photograph had penetrated to the rural +regions. Tim's rigorous cross-questioning soon +drew the whole story from the boy.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's easily settled," said Tim. +"Just you write to 'em and own up, and say +you're going to stop with me over Christmas, +but that you'll be along about New Year to turn +over a new leaf. They'll bring out the fatted +calf when you get back. I know Caleb like +a book. He can't hold spite."</p> + +<p>Jerry settled himself to write the letter. But +he found himself hard to please, and tore up +several drafts. Writing apologies was not such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +easy work, after all! Then Tim put his grizzled +head in at the door, with a beaming smile.</p> + +<p>"Look here, boy, I've got an idee! The +picture business is dull this morning. Go up +and get yours took. You can send it along +for a Christmas gift. Sha'n't cost you a cent, +either. I get all my work done gratis, for sending +him so much trade."</p> + +<p>Three days after, Jerry dropped into the +post-office a little package addressed to his +uncle, containing, besides a letter, an excellent +likeness of himself. Jerry made in the letter +a straightforward acknowledgment of his mistake, +and accompanied this manly apology with +an earnest request to be allowed to return home.</p> + +<p>He had grown so homesick for a sight of +the old place that he could scarcely see the lines +on his paper. And Aunt Lucy—well, he almost +broke down at the thought of all her +motherly kindness to him.</p> + +<p>"Now I'll surely get an answer by Wednesday," +he thought, but Wednesday went by, and +another week passed, and although he called +regularly at the post-office, no word came.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've done all I could," he said. "It's +plain they don't want me back."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tim's sympathetic old heart ached for the +boy's distress. He even offered to go up to the +farm and intercede in his behalf.</p> + +<p>"No indeed!" Jerry answered, defiantly. +"I'll never beg my way back. I'm not the +kind to go where I'm not wanted."</p> + +<p>"Maybe they never got your letter."</p> + +<p>Jerry hooted at the idea. "No, they don't +want to make up. That's the long and the short +of it."</p> + +<p>When he finally started West, Tim Bailey +went with him. Out on the far Western +prairies, Jerry struck deep root in the favourable +soil, and as the years passed on, became +as much of a fixture as the new town that +bore his name. Year after year he worked +on, widening his fields, improving his buildings, +working early and late, solely for the +pleasure of accumulating.</p> + +<p>Tim Bailey had grown old and rheumatic, +almost childish, but he still assumed a sort of +guardianship over Jerry. One day he put down +his newspaper, wiped his spectacles, and +scanned the rough, burly-looking man on the +other side of the stove, as if he had been a +stranger.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Look here, Jerry," he said presently, +"you're getting to look old, and your hair's all +a-turning gray. Now you've got to quit pegging +away so hard and take a holiday, before +you get like me, so stiff and rheumatic you +can't get away. Why don't you go to the +World's Fair? It 'ud be a burning shame for +the richest man in Trigg County to miss such +a show."</p> + +<p>Thus it came about that one day Jerry +rubbed his eyes in a bewildered way to find +himself in the midst of a surging crowd that +thronged the entrances of the Fair.</p> + +<p>He plodded along the Midway Plaisance, his +umbrella under his arm and his hands in his +pockets; he walked and stared till late in the +afternoon. It was late in May, the spring +ploughing had been a good preparation in pedestrianism, +but the long furrows, enlivened +only by the pipe of a quail or the cry of a catbird, +had never brought such weariness as +Jerry felt now.</p> + +<p>He did not realize he was so tired until he +dropped into a seat in one of the gondolas on +the lagoon, and remarked confidentially to the +gondolier that he was "clean beat out."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was the first time Jerry had spoken since +he entered the grounds. The man made no +reply.</p> + +<p>He studied the fellow keenly a moment, and +then turned to the crowds, surging along the +banks in every direction. Not a soul in all +that multitude even knew his name.</p> + +<p>A feeling of utter loneliness crept over him, +and when the boat landed he was saying to +himself that he would give the finest colt in his +pastures for the sight of a familiar face.</p> + +<p>A few steps farther, and he saw one. It was +in the government building, where an amused +crowd was exclaiming over the Dead Letter +Exhibit. Jerry edged along in front of the +case, wondering at the variety of shipwrecked +cargoes that had drifted into this government +haven.</p> + +<p>A vague pity stirred in him for all the hopes +that had gone into the grave of the dead letter +office—rings that had never found the fingers +they were to have clasped, gifts that might have +unlocked long silences, tokens of friendship +that were never received, never acknowledged—all +caught in this snarled web that no human +skill could possibly unravel.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then he saw the familiar face. It smiled out +at him from the case of an old daguerreotype, +till his heart began to beat so hard that he +glanced guiltily around, to see if any one else +heard it. The blood rushed to his head, and +he felt dizzy.</p> + +<p>It was that picture of himself, taken so long +ago up in Vermont! He was not likely to be +mistaken in it—the only picture he had ever +had taken in his life.</p> + +<p>He chuckled as he recalled the anxious +oiling he had given the curly hair to make it +lie flat, the harrowing hesitation over his necktie, +the borrowing of the watch-chain that stood +out in such bold relief against his brocaded vest. +How quaint and old-fashioned it looked!</p> + +<p>He passed his hand over his grizzled beard +with a sigh, for the smooth, boyish face was not +all he saw. It brought back the whole faded +past so overwhelmingly that for awhile he forgot +where he was.</p> + +<p>Thirty-three years since he had dropped that +little package in the office! He did not question +why the letter had gone astray. He had lost +his boyish faith in his own infallibility. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +had probably mailed it with only half the address, +perhaps none.</p> + +<p>Now he was a boy again, back in Maine. +Aunt Lucy's knitting-needles clicked in the +firelight. Uncle Caleb was making him a sled. +How warm and comfortable the kitchen felt, +and how good Aunt Lucy's doughnuts tasted!</p> + +<p>The crowds jostled him. He stood as if +grown to the spot, until a sharp-nosed woman +elbowed her way in front of him, to see what +interested him. She looked inquisitively from +the picture to the weather-beaten face above +her, and passed on, none the wiser. There +was little likeness between the two.</p> + +<p>Her penetrating glances aroused him. He +came to himself with a start, looked hastily +around, and then set out from the building, +heedless of direction. A keen, raw wind struck +him as he strode along the lake shore. He +shivered and turned up his coat collar.</p> + +<p>A drizzling mist of rain began to fall. People +going by with their umbrellas up looked at +him curiously as he plodded along with his +own umbrella under his arm.</p> + +<p>Soon a heavy dash of rain aroused him to the +necessity of finding immediate shelter. A group<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +of State buildings was just ahead. Glancing +up he saw the name of his native State on one, +and hurried in.</p> + +<p>A great log heap blazed and crackled in the +huge fireplace, filling the room with a glowing +comfort that warmed him, soul and body. He +drew a chair close up to it, and spread his +chilly fingers to the flames.</p> + +<p>The sticks against the forelog burnt to embers +and fell into the ashes. The crane seemed +to swing backward like a great finger, pointing +to the past, as he sat and stared into the fire.</p> + +<p>People passing through the room saw only +a rough old farmer, his clumsy boots stretched +out on the hearth. They never dreamed of the +scenes that passed before him in the fire. There +were glimpses of snow-covered pine woods, of +sparkling trout-streams gurgling in the June +sunshine, of long stretches of level sea-sands +where the tide crawled in.</p> + +<p>The old homesickness waked again. What +had they thought of him through all these silent +years? He wondered how they would receive +his long-delayed apology. He must write as +soon as he got back to the hotel.</p> + +<p>The rain had stopped. He stood up and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +shook himself, then went out-doors again, pulling +his beard meditatively, as he walked toward +the gate. It seemed a week since he had entered +it.</p> + +<p>Outside, while he waited for a car, he kept +poking the end of his umbrella savagely into +a crack in the pavement. As he swung himself +to the platform of a passing car, he turned back +for another look at the domes and towers inside +the gates.</p> + +<p>It was his last look. He had seen enough. +He was going back to Uncle Caleb and Aunt +Lucy.</p> + +<div class='center'><br />THE END.</div><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1_ad" id="Page_1_ad">[1]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>COSY CORNER SERIES.</h2> + + +<div class='hang1'>It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall +contain only the very highest and purest literature,—stories +that shall not only appeal to the children themselves, +but be appreciated by all those who feel with +them in their joys and sorrows,—stories that shall be +most particularly adapted for reading aloud in the +family circle.</div> + +<div class='hang1'>The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known +artists, and each volume has a separate attractive +cover design.</div> + +<div class='center'> +Each, 1 vol., 16mo, cloth $0.50<br /> +</div> + + +<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON</i></div> + +<div class='adtitle3'>The Little Colonel.</div> + +<p>The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its +heroine is a small girl, who is known as the Little +Colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an +old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and +old family are famous in the region. This old Colonel +proves to be the grandfather of the child.</p> + +<div class='adtitle3'>The Giant Scissors.</div> + +<p>This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in +France,—the wonderful house with the gate of The +Giant Scissors, Jules, her little playmate, Sister Denisa, +the cruel Brossard, and her dear Aunt Kate. Joyce is +a great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes +shares with her the delightful experiences of the "House +Party" and the "Holidays."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2_ad" id="Page_2_ad">[2]</a></span></p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>Two Little Knights of Kentucky,</span> +<span class="smcap">Who Were the Little Colonel's Neighbors.</span></div> + +<p>In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an +old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is +not, however, the central figure of the story, that place +being taken by the "two little knights."</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.</div> + +<p>The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles +will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for +young people, written in the author's sympathetic and +entertaining manner.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories.</div> + +<p>A collection of six bright little stories, which will +appeal to all boys and most girls.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Big Brother.</div> + +<p>A story of two boys. The devotion and care of +Steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the +theme of the simple tale, the pathos and beauty of which +has appealed to so many thousands.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Ole Mammy's Torment.</div> + +<p>"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a +classic of Southern life." It relates the haps and mishaps +of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by +love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>The Story of Dago.</div> + +<p>In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, +a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago +tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps +is both interesting and amusing.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3_ad" id="Page_3_ad">[3]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By EDITH ROBINSON</i></div> + +<div class='adtitle3'>A Little Puritan's First Christmas.</div> + +<p>A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how +Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child +of the Puritans, aided by her brother Sam.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>A Little Daughter of Liberty.</div> + +<p>The author's motive for this story is well indicated by +a quotation from her introduction, as follows:</p> + +<p>"One ride is memorable in the early history of the +American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul +Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another +ride,—untold in verse or story, its records preserved +only in family papers or shadowy legend, the ride of +Anthony Severn was no less historic in its action or +memorable in its consequences."</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>A Loyal Little Maid.</div> + +<p>A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary +days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, +renders important services to George Washington.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>A Little Puritan Rebel.</div> + +<p>Like Miss Robinson's successful story of "A Loyal +Little Maid," this is another historical tale of a real girl, +during the time when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was +governor of Massachusetts.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>A Little Puritan Pioneer.</div> + +<p>The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement +at Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds +another to the list of favorites so well known to the +young people.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>A Little Puritan Bound Girl.</div> + +<p>A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great +interest to youthful readers.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4_ad" id="Page_4_ad">[4]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By OUIDA (Louise de la Ramée)</i></div> + + +<div class='adtitle3'><b>A Dog of Flanders</b>: <span class="smcap">A Christmas Story</span>.</div> + +<p>Too well and favorably known to require description.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>The Nürnberg Stove.</div> + +<p>This beautiful story has never before been published +at a popular price.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>A Provence Rose.</div> + +<p>A story perfect in sweetness and in grace.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Findelkind.</div> + +<p>A charming story about a little Swiss herdsman.</p> + + +<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By MISS MULOCK</i></div> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>The Little Lame Prince.</div> + +<p>A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures +by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Adventures of a Brownie.</div> + +<p>The story of a household elf who torments the cook +and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the +children who love and trust him.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>His Little Mother.</div> + +<p>Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant +source of delight to them, and "His Little Mother," in +this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts +of youthful readers.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Little Sunshine's Holiday.</div> + +<p>An attractive story of a summer outing. "Little Sunshine" +is another of those beautiful child-characters for +which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5_ad" id="Page_5_ad">[5]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By JULIANA HORATIA EWING</i></div> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Jackanapes.</div> + +<p>A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite +and touching story, dear alike to young and old.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Story of a Short Life.</div> + +<p>This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old. +It is a part of the world's literature, and will never die.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>A Great Emergency.</div> + +<p>How a family of children prepared for a great emergency, +and how they acted when the emergency came.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>The Trinity Flower.</div> + +<p>In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. +Ewing's best short stories for the young people.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Madam Liberality.</div> + +<p>From her cradle up Madam Liberality found her +chief delight in giving.</p> + + +<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By FRANCES MARGARET FOX</i></div> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>The Little Giant's Neighbours.</div> + +<p>A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose +neighbours were the creatures of the field and garden.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Farmer Brown and the Birds.</div> + +<p>A little story which teaches children that the birds +are man's best friends.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Betty of Old Mackinaw.</div> + +<p>A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to +the little readers who like stories of "real people."</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Mother Nature's Little Ones.</div> + +<p>Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or +"childhood," of the little creatures out-of-doors.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6_ad" id="Page_6_ad">[6]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE</i></div> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow.</div> + +<p>This story, written by the gifted young Southern +woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of +the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>The Fortunes of the Fellow.</div> + +<p>Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm +of "The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow" will welcome +the further account of the "Adventures of Baydaw and +the Fellow" at the home of the kindly smith among the +Green Hills of Tennessee.</p> + + +<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By FRANCES HODGES WHITE</i></div> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Helena's Wonderworld.</div> + +<p>A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in +the mysterious regions beneath the sea.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>Aunt Nabby's Children.</div> + +<p>This pretty little story, touched with the simple humor +of country life, tells of two children, who, adopted by +Aunt Nabby, have also won their way into the affections +of the village squire.</p> + + +<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By CHARLES LEE SLEIGHT</i></div> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>The Prince of the Pin Elves.</div> + +<p>A fascinating story of the underground adventures of +a sturdy, reliant American boy among the elves and +gnomes.</p> + + +<div class='adtitle3'>The Water People.</div> + +<p>A companion volume and in a way a sequel to "The +Prince of the Pin Elves," relating the adventures of +"Harry" among the "water people." While it has the +same characters as the previous book, the story is complete +in itself.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7_ad" id="Page_7_ad">[7]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='unindent'><br /><i>By OTHER AUTHORS</i></div> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Flight of Rosy Dawn.</span> By <span class="smcap">Pauline +Bradford Mackie</span>.</div> + +<p>The Christmas of little Wong Jan, or "Rosy Dawn," +a young Celestial of San Francisco, is the theme of this +pleasant little story.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>Susanne.</span> By <span class="smcap">Frances J. Delano</span>.</div> + +<p>This little story will recall in sweetness and appealing +charm the work of Kate Douglas Wiggin and Laura E. +Richards.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>Millicent in Dreamland.</span> By <span class="smcap">Edna S. +Brainerd</span>.</div> + +<p>The quaintness and fantastic character of Millicent's +adventures in Dreamland have much of the fascination +of "Alice in Wonderland," and all small readers of +"Alice" will enjoy making Millicent's acquaintance.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>Jerry's Reward.</span> By <span class="smcap">Evelyn Snead +Barnett</span>.</div> + +<p>This is an interesting and wholesome little story of +the change that came over the thoughtless imps on Jefferson +Square when they learned to know the stout-hearted +Jerry and his faithful Peggy.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>A Bad Penny.</span> By <span class="smcap">John T. Wheelwright</span>.</div> + +<p>No boy should omit reading this vivid story of the +New England of 1812.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>Gatty and I.</span> By <span class="smcap">Frances E. Crompton</span>.</div> + +<p>The small hero and heroine of this little story are +twins, "strictly brought up." It is a sweet and wholesome +little story.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8_ad" id="Page_8_ad">[8]</a></span></p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>Prince Yellowtop.</span> By <span class="smcap">Kate Whiting Patch</span>.</div> + +<p>A pretty little fairy tale.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Christmas Shoe.</span> By <span class="smcap">Jane P. +Scott-Woodruff</span>.</div> + +<p>A touching story of Yule-tide.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Professor.</span> By <span class="smcap">Ida Horton +Cash</span>.</div> + +<p>A quaint tale of a quaint little girl.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Seventh Daughter.</span> By <span class="smcap">Grace Wickham +Curran</span>.</div> + +<p>One of the best stories for little girls that has been +published for a long time.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Making of Zimri Bunker</span>: <span class="smcap">A Tale +of Nantucket</span>. By <span class="smcap">W. J. Long</span>, Ph. D.</div> + +<p>This is a charming story of Nantucket folk by a +young clergyman who is already well known through +his contributions to the <i>Youth's Companion</i>, <i>St. Nicholas</i>, +and other well-known magazines. The story deals +with a sturdy American fisher lad, during the war of +1812.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The King of the Golden River</span>: <span class="smcap">A +Legend of Stiria</span>. By <span class="smcap">John Ruskin</span>.</div> + +<p>Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally +intended for publication, this little fairy tale soon +became known and made a place for itself.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>Little Peterkin Vandike.</span> By <span class="smcap">Charles +Stuart Pratt</span>.</div> + +<p>The author's dedication furnishes a key to this charming +story:</p> + +<p>"I dedicate this book, made for the amusement (and +perchance instruction) of the boys who may read it, to +the memory of one boy, who would have enjoyed as +much as Peterkin the plays of the Poetry Party, but +who has now marched out of the ranks of boyhood."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9_ad" id="Page_9_ad">[9]</a></span></p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>Rab and His Friends.</span> By Dr. <span class="smcap">John +Brown.</span></div> + +<p>Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known +to need description. The dog Rab is loved by all.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Adventures of Beatrice and +Jessie.</span> By <span class="smcap">Richard Mansfield</span>.</div> + +<p>The story of two little girls who were suddenly transplanted +into the "realms of unreality," where they met +with many curious and amusing adventures.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>A Child's Garden of Verses.</span> By <span class="smcap">R. +L. Stevenson</span>.</div> + +<p>Mr. Stevenson's little volume is too well known to +need description. It will be heartily welcomed in this +new and attractive edition.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>Little King Davie.</span> By <span class="smcap">Nellie Hellis</span>.</div> + +<p>The story of a little crossing-sweeper, that will make +many boys thankful they are not in the same position. +Davie's accident, hospital experiences, conversion, and +subsequent life, are of thrilling interest.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Sleeping Beauty.</span> <span class="smcap">A Modern Version.</span> +By <span class="smcap">Martha B. Dunn</span>.</div> + +<p>This charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, +intellectually "asleep" until she meets the "Fairy +Prince," reminds us of "Ouida" at her best.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Young Archer.</span> By <span class="smcap">Charles E. Brimblecom</span>.</div> + +<p>A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied +Columbus on his voyage to the New World. +His loyalty and services through vicissitudes and dangers +endeared him to the great discoverer, and the +account of his exploits will be interesting to all boys.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10_ad" id="Page_10_ad">[10]</a></span></p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Fairy of the Rhône.</span> By <span class="smcap">A. Comyns +Carr</span>.</div> + +<p>Here is a fairy story indeed, one of old-fashioned pure +delight. It is most gracefully told, and accompanied by +charming illustrations.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>A Small Small Child.</span> By <span class="smcap">E. Livingston +Prescott</span>.</div> + +<p>"A Small Small Child" is a moving little tale of +sweet influence, more powerful than threats or punishments, +upon a rowdy of the barracks.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>Peggy's Trial.</span> By <span class="smcap">Mary Knight Potter</span>.</div> + +<p>Peggy is an impulsive little woman of ten, whose +rebellion from a mistaken notion of loyalty, and her subsequent +reconciliation to the dreaded "new mother," are +most interestingly told.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>For His Country.</span> By <span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>, +author of "Beautiful Joe," etc.</div> + +<p>A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved +his country; written with that charm which has endeared +Miss Saunders to hosts of readers.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>La Belle Nivernaise.</span> <span class="smcap">The Story of an +Old Boat and Her Crew.</span> By <span class="smcap">Alphonse +Daudet</span>.</div> + +<p>All who have read it will be glad to welcome an old +favorite, and new readers will be happy to have it +brought to their friendly attention.</p> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>Wee Dorothy.</span> By <span class="smcap">Laura Updegraff</span>.</div> + +<p>A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion +of the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and +setting. With a bit of sadness at the beginning, the +story is otherwise bright and sunny, and altogether +wholesome in every way.</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11_ad" id="Page_11_ad">[11]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</h2> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Colonel Stories.</span> By <span class="smcap">Annie +Fellows Johnston</span>.</div> + +<p>Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy +Corner Series, "The Little Colonel," "Two Little +Knights of Kentucky," and "The Giant Scissors," put +into a single volume, owing to the popular demand for a +uniform series of the stories dealing with one of the +most popular of juvenile heroines.</p> + +<div class='center'> +1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated $1.50<br /> +</div> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Colonel's House Party.</span> +By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows Johnston</span>. Illustrated by +Louis Meynell.</div> + +<div class='center'> +One vol., library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover $1.50<br /> +</div> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Colonel's Holidays.</span> By +<span class="smcap">Annie Fellows Johnston</span>. Illustrated by L. J. +Bridgman.</div> + +<div class='center'> +One vol., large 12mo, cloth, decorative cover $1.50<br /> +</div> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Colonel's Hero.</span> By <span class="smcap">Annie +Fellows Johnston</span>. Illustrated by E. B. Barry.</div> + +<p>One vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative,</p> + +<div class='center'> +$1.20 <i>net</i> (postage extra)<br /> +</div> + + +<div><span class='adtitle3'>The Little Colonel at Boarding +School.</span> By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows Johnston</span>. Illustrated +by E. B. Barry.</div> + +<div class='center'> +1 vol., large 12mo, cloth $1.20 <i>net</i> (postage extra)<br /> +</div> + +<p>Since the time of "Little Women," no juvenile heroine +has been better beloved of her child readers than Mrs. +Johnston's "Little Colonel." Each succeeding book has +been more popular than its predecessor, and now thousands +of little readers wait patiently each year for the +appearance of "the new Little Colonel Book."</p><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12_ad" id="Page_12_ad">[12]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2>THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES</h2> + + +<p>The most delightful and interesting accounts possible +of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings +doings, and adventures.</p> + +<p>Each 1 vol., 12mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six +full-page illustrations in color by L. J. Bridgman.</p> + +<div class='center'> +Price per volume $0.50 <i>net</i>, postpaid $0.56<br /> +</div> + +<blockquote><p>"Juveniles will get a whole world of pleasure and instruction +out of Mary Hazelton Wade's Little Cousin Series. . . . +Pleasing narratives give pictures of the little folk in the faraway +lands in their duties and pleasures, showing their odd +ways of playing, studying, their queer homes, clothes, and +playthings. . . . The style of the stories is all that can be +desired for entertainment, the author describing things in a +very real and delightful fashion."—<i>Detroit News-Tribune.</i></p></blockquote> + + +<div class='adtitle2'><br /><i>By MARY HAZELTON WADE</i></div> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Wade books"> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Swiss Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Norwegian Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Italian Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Siamese Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Cuban Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Hawaiian Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Eskimo Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Philippine Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Porto Rican Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little African Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Japanese Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Brown Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Indian Cousin.</b></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><b>Our Little Russian Cousin.</b></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<div class='adtitle2'><br /><i>By ISAAC HEADLAND TAYLOR</i></div> + +<div class='center'> +<b>Our Little Chinese Cousin.</b><br /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> +<div class='tnote'> +<div class='center'>Transcriber's Note: Repeated story titles were deleted froom text. </div> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories, by +Annie Fellows Johnston and W. L. Taylor + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER *** + +***** This file should be named 39593-h.htm or 39593-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/5/9/39593/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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