The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1879-06-26
THAT BOY.
A Short Story for Mothers.

THAT BOY.
Short Story for Mothers.
cone pleasant day in the early part Of
summer, Max Fcnnimorc stood leaning
Iistlessly over the gate IN front of his
fathers house. But this llstlcss manner
suddenly changed to admiration, for, on
looking down the street, he saw Frank
Jones coming. Frank was holding fast
to string, to the other end of which was
attached beautiful kite Max opened
the gate and ran to meet him.
COB, FRANKIE he cried, ''plcasc let me
fly your kite awhilc?'
"Wcll," said Frank good-naturcdly.
"But hold fast to the string. for she pulls
like II span Of horses
Max took hold OF the string carefully;
and as he watched the kite, floating
among the very clouds, and felt it tug
ging at the string as if impatient with the
tic which held it to the earth, he was
filled with the utmost delight. lie
thrust his discngagcd hand into his
pocket, and drew forth a lead pchcil, IA
gaily stri pc: tin penholder, a chunk of
red chalk, the neck Of broken bottle,
apiccc of rubber, and bit of colored
glass; all of which he offered in exchange
for the kite, but without success. Finally
he drew forth new pocket knife.
''See here, Frank" said he. II will
give you this knifc,if you will let me have
the KITE
Frank was several years older than
Max. He had no intention of taking in
unfair advantage of his enthusiastic young
friend.
"Thc kite is not worth near SO much
us your knite,'' said be. "Lct me take
the string, and will bring the kite down.
can show you in \ few moments how to
make one for yoursclf'
Max vas delighted. He watched
Frank as he slowly wound up the string,
and when the kite gave final plunge to
the earth, he ran and got it, and brought
it to Frank uninjurcd. Then the BOYS
sat down on the sidewalk, while Frank
explained its construction
"And now," said Frank, rising to co.
III you have any trouble in balancing it,
>. bring it over to me, and will fastcn on
the string for YOU"
"All right!'' was the reply; and Max
ran back to the house, and procuring a
piece ofpinc board he entered the kitchen.
The room presented an appearance Of per-
tcct order and neatncss; for Mrs Fcnni-
more was model housckccper, and
could not tolerate anything like dirt or
confusion. There was no one about the
house but himself, but he did not consid-
cr this an unfavorablc circumstance. He
set at work with a zeal which soon COW
cred the floor with bits of wood and shay
-ings. He soon had the frame made, and
neatly tackled together. He got paper
. With which to cover it, and then began a
desperate search for scissors. lie searched
through the family sitting room; over
turning his mothers work-baskct, look
Ing through the contents; and in his haste
leaving everything in disorder and confll-
sion after him. He ut length succeeded
in finding pair, but could find no muci-
lagc to fastcn on the cover with, 50, pro-
curing basin, he put in quantity Of
flour, and mixing it up with water, soon
had liberal supply Of paste
FINALLY the kite was completed. lie
set it upon the table, and looked at it
: with an air of pride aud triumph. Max
was an ingenious boy; and it was Il nice
piece of workmanship for a lad of his
age. Saint it beauty, though?" he
exclaimed to himself II do believe it is
nicer kite than Franks
lie stepped backward to take a better
look, and in doing SO, stumbled over the
basin, and in ovcrturning it, the contents
ran out on the floor. Max looked about
him; he had been so absorbed in the con-
struction of his kite as to be entirely
obllvlous tc the mischief he had been do
ing Filled with dismay he ran for the
mop, and began a desperate attempt to
wipe up the paste. But the harder he
worked the further the paste spread, en-
quilting bits Of wood and paper. Max
was in despair. Just at that moment
the door opened. Mrs. Fcnnimorc was
about to enter, but paused in the door
way; through the door ajar she could
look into the other room, and her prac
tlced eye took in the whole scene.
"Max Fcnnimorc!" It was only the
boys name, but there was significant
cmpasis and inflextion in the tone in
which it was uttered.
II didn't mean to make I. muss," began
Max in trcpidation. But was so busy
didn't notice what was doing. Just
wait a moment, mother, and will clean
1t all up" And Max began mopping
again with desperation. Mrs. Fcnni-
more fastened across the room, and
grasping Max by the shoulder, shook
bin free from the mop-handle.
=" Max Fcnnimorc! she exclaimed
again, what have you been doing?"
i Making kite" and Max glanced
ruetully at the beautiful specimen of his
skill that stood on the table, as if in tri-
amph at having attained such comely pro-
= portions, amid such chaos and confusion.
- will teach you how to make kites p
And Mrs. Fennimore crossed the room,
, ana Selling the fabric, crushed it in her
hands, and thrust it rcmorsely into the
stove. Then she turned her attention to
Max. Didn't tell you, before I left
home, she began, that I should expect
to find everything just rs l left it when I
returned? And now, look at these rooms
And this is always the way. never can
: leave the house for a half hour, but when
l return l find it looking as if hurricane
had passed through it. I declare, Max
youtwill worry the life out of mel"
Max was unmoved. It was not &c
much because he had grown used to thi,
expression, and stood in no fear of hi,
mothers immediate dissolution: but will
tho destruction Of the kite, his penitcnc.
and remorse had suddenly vanished; ane
he listened to his mothers words silen
and sullen, and would make no promise.
of better conduct in the future. Mrs
Fennimore became thoroughly provoked