The Winchester journal. [volume] (Winchester, Ind.) 18??-1920, 1870-06-16

give il 10 Walter the first time he tast
ed for it," muttered Edward, turning
to go.
lie knew how cruelty unjust thi:
taunt was, and he wanted her 20 re-
ply To it. But she only said, "Well
Walter shall have the cap. lie will
be the only boy we shall have To love
and care for now. But, Edgar, it is
going To rain. There is no need ol
your starting in bad weather. You
can wait till morning if you like"
mo, I'd rather go noww And
away he strobe with tragical air, SC
full Of sorrow and anger and rcmorse
that he could not say another word,
nor look back without bursting into
tears.
Little Walter. now just beginning
TO comprehend what the great trouble
was, ran after him, and caught him
by the arm. Don't go, Edgar!" he
he pleaded, "don't go. Come back,
and | won't ask for your play things
any morev'
But Edgar shook Lin of rudely,
and slammed the gate, and SO bade
good-by TO bis comfortable, happy
home, and went out into the great,
lonely world.
1t was going TO rain, sure enough.
The sky was dark, and few drops al
ready began TO sprinkle the dust of the
road. One fell on Edgar's hand and
another OH his cheek. The earth had
never locked so dreary to him; he had
never felt such cold. omnious rain
drops before. She'll be certGin to
call me again before I'm out of sight,"
thought he; and o, how he hoped she
would! But she did not.
She saw him go up the long hill,
carrying his little bundle, farther and
farther, DINNER and DINNER, under
the darkening clouds,-her darling
boy. Would she ever see that little
coat, those trudging feet again? Every
moment she expected he would relent
and turn back. "rhe rain will GER
tainly send him homer thought she;
and so she watched and prayed till he
was out of sight.
The rain set in, slow and chill, not
like a shower, but like a long dismal
storm. An hour passed, and no dis
heartened little boy with his bundle
was seen coming down the hill. Then
il grew so dark aud rained so hard
that his mother could not have seen
him even if lie had come.
Edgar walked on very fast at first,
without any idea where he was going,
crying bitterly, and muttering to him
self, ~ won't 60 back now. / don't
care if / do get wet, I'll drown my
self, then / guess she'll feel bad. III
go to see,-I will! I'll come home "a
rich man, and put up at the hotel, and
not go to see her; and I'll drive II fast
horse past the house, and make all
my old friends presents, and-boo-h
hoow wept the wretched, angry boy,
unable to support his heart with these
spiteful fancies.
Patter, patter went the rain, darker
and darker grew the way; and now
the serious question forced itself upon
his mind, where was he to pass the
night? Why not go to the hotel now?
Because everybody knew him in the
village, and it would lock so strange
for him to go there for lodgings, so
near home. "I'll 60 where nobody
knows me; I'll crawl into a barn some
where, and sleep on the hay.n
Lights began to appear in the farm
houses he passed, their cheerful beams
making the rain and darkness seem
all the more dismal to his lonely heart.
In one warmly lighted doorway a
woman appeared and called, "Come,
my son, come to supper" "All right,
mother" answered a CHEEKY boys
voice from the door of barn close by;
"Ive got the chores all done now."
And Edgar saw lad about his own
age 60 into the house with a brimming
pail of milk-go into light and warmth,
and supper, and the comfort of a
mothers presence, while he. houseless,
motherlcss, drenched, wandered on in
the darkness and rain.
"Ill go into the next barn come
to-" thought he. And there was one
near by; but just rs he was gliding
stealthily 10 the door, man came out,
aud seeing him, exclaimed grufily,
"What do you want here? Clear out,
you little bcggar."
Edgar was frightened, and ran away
us fast ~ lie could. He walked about
half mile iurtehr then sat down on
"A stone wall 10y the side of the road.
Not "A person was passing, not light
was to be seen anywhere. Night had
now fairly closed in. and it was rain
ing still. Aud there Edgar thought
of the past and of his dismal pros.
poets.
IL wish Walter had never come TO
our house. Making row 'twixt me
and mother! was happy as l could
be before. ! didn't use him very well,
/ know. I'd got through with the
playthings, and he might have 'em
| don't blame him for wanting To
drive me once in a while. And
don't blame mother for taking his
part. was mean and selfish. wish
| was back there. Fathers got home
by this time, and Jane and Ellen. |
They're eating supper now. l shan;