The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1879-08-20
TIE. H., in Churchman.l

IA cool spot on the hard pillow.
A low, bare room; cherries and cold
enough in the easterly storm that was rag
inc Close to the one window a woman was
bending over her sewing. A few chairs, a
table. broken stove, fireless and the fast
deepening shadows to fill up the corners,
were all the little ones heavy eyes found to
rest on when they opened
Out of doors the rain was beating down,
dashine with heavy tapping fingers against
the closed doors and windows; hurrying down
the cutters in noisy, tumbling rivers, and
sweeping the pavement clear of all but a few |
hurrying men, the dripping newsboys, and |
now and then scurrylng dog.
Such pitiless wind was blowing, tool 1t |
roared and danced, whirled umbrellas about, |
and blew away hats without the slightest re-
gard for peoples feelings. As every dash |
came louder and harder against the window, |
the little sick boy opened his eyes and moan |
ed:
'Where's my Jimmy? Oh, why don't my
Jimmy come homer"
"Hush, dear, there's a darling; Timmy'll |
come home Just as soon as he can. Maybe
he'll bring that red rose. Yes seeing the
frightening look in the heavy eyes, 'just as
like as not he's bringing it now. Lie still,
) that's a dear, till mother finishes this shirt;
the daylight's almost gone
| So the little boy tried hard to lie still, and
could only moan and toss about until even
n quick, careful step on the creaking stairs.
y The door opened, and with glad cry the
1 little sick boy threw his arms around the
neck of a larger boy, who had stolen eau
tiously into the room.
4 ssOh, my Timmyl" was all he said, while
his hot head nestled close to his brothers wet
Jacket, and a faint smile stole over his tiny
pinched face.
The big boy said nothing at ALL but his
face was working as he smoothed the tangled
hair with his rough, grimy fingers.
Z "Hes lot better amt he, mother?" Tim
said at last as he tried to look hopefully at
his mother when the little one had dropped
off into one of his brief sleeps.
"No Tim, he amt no BETTER, his mother
SAID, mournfully, putting down her work to
rock backward and forward violently mo-
\ ment. mo; and he'll never be any better
again in this world. He's goin' to better,
and 1 wish you and me were good enough to
go along"
The big slow tears gathered in Tins eyes
and slipped down on the yellow head over
which he was bending, when, with start,
the little sick boy woke up and began his old
moan of 81 want my Jimmy. Where's my
Timmy?"
"Here 1 am Tim answered, pressing the
little head closer to him. you've forgot l
Just come in. Walked up kinder sudden-Eke,
didn mt you, dear?'
''Did you bring my wed wose, Timmy?"
The moaned, "my beautiful wed wOse? Mother
said you'd bring me one.''
ssNo, dear, didn't answered Tim gently.
ats a very bad day for roses" he went on,
looking down in the eager, hopeful little face.
You see. roses, big red roses, don't blossom
when the wind and the rain blows like as it
does now except in the glass-houses where
rich people keep their flowers. Before very
long it'll be summer, and then Jimmy will
carry you up to the park. Well have a
Jolly ride in the horse-car all the way, and
you'll look out of the winder and think
you're drivin' the horses; and there you'll
! see all kinds of fowers-lilacs and roses
pink roses and red roses, and lots and lots of
climbing vines all over blossoms. And, like
.as not little un if I've had an extra day, a
rea tp-topper you'll have a ride in goat
kerridge, big as anybody, sittin' up straight,
saying Go long just like the little boys we
see last summer"
wan little smile came over the sick boy 5
| face as he listened to this pleasant prospect;
but it faded, and soon he began to toss about
again ard say, II want wed wose. I do
want to smell a wed wose, Jimmy. I'm so
hot! so hotl" till Tim could not listen any
longer, and unclasping the hot hands from
his neck, hurried down stairs and out into
the fast darkening streets
Without thinking what he was doing, Tim
had taken up his box as he left the house. and
when he reached his usual stand-the base
OF great monument in the middle of a
square, across which too busy streets ran
he put it down in front of him, the brushes
and blacking-box in their places, and lean
ing against the cold gray stone tried to think
it all out.
Tim belongs to the shoeblack brigade, and
in pleasant weather his stand is very profit
able one. The 10 cents skip in very rapidly
on bright mornings, and Tins sharp eyes
never let chance for business escape him
but in such rainy weather no one was willing
or anxious to have his boots BACKED, as Tim
well knew, and he had been wandering about
all day in search of horses to hold, or any.
thing in the way of work that would bring
him few pennies.
All the money that Tim and his mother
oould earn, even the little nest-egg they were
beginning to lay up for the next winter, had
been used in the little brothers sickness, an6
no matter how diligently he fumbled in hi
ragged pockets not one stray penny reward
ed his search.
Elbow shall 1 get the little un rose?" hi
said to himself; ga real sumner of ros.
that's got lots of smell in it. He's got tt
have itf'
The rain beat against him; the wind fut
tered his ragged clothes and tried to run of
with his battered hat; grinning newsboy
shouted "ShineT into his unheeding ears
and it was quite dark before Tim had mad,
up his mind what to do, and he came back tt
world with start and shiver to fine
his beat quite deserted and the gaslights far
ing on the wet pavement.
'The little un's got to have rose anyhow,
he said again, aloud this time, and then, pick
ingsup his much-abused box, Tim hurried
across the street, and plodded up one ant
down another. until after long walk n
found himself in front of the faring light O
a market. Around a hot coffee-stand ever s.
many bootblacks and newsboys were gather
81. FTin knew very well where to find hi
fiends on q rainy evening. It was not quit
tteater time, and the boys were reinforcin,
themselxes with coffee and rolls .anainst III