Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1880-03-31

held the book in her twisted hands and
tried to help him TO lGarn.
" But all this does not earn money, my
hoy. How do you expect TO save if you
give your time indoors?"
"Oh, don't do girls work all day; no,
indeed! | have worked out our taxes on
the road. 1t wasn't much, but helped the
men to build IL stone wall down by the
river; and Deacon Ball lets me do great
deal of work for him, and when | get
chance to take anybody from the hotel to
ride, he lets me have his team for almost
nothing, and | pay 10 him whatever |
make. And work on the farm with the
men in summer; and have COW of my
own and sell the milk ut the tavern; and
we have some hens, too, and sell the eggs
And in the fall cut and pile the winters
wood in the sheds for the people who
haven't any boys and there's good
many people about here who haven t any
boys" he added, brushing fly from the
old horse with the tip Of his whip.
After this we fell into silence. and rode
through the sweet Now England roads
with Monadnock rising before us ever
nearer and more majestic. 1t impressed
me with sense of his ragged strength
one of the hills, " rock ribbed and ancient
Us the sun" but glanced from the noun
tain to the little headed morsel of hu-
manity ut my side with n sort of recogni-
ton of their kinship. Somehow they
seemed to belong together. felt rs if tho
same sturdy stuff were in them both. 1t
was only Il fancy, but it was confirmed the
next day, for when | came back to town
after seeing my invalid friend. called on
Deacon Ball. | found him white haired
and kindly faced. lie kept the village
store and owned pretty house, and was
evidently very well to do. Naturally we
talked of John, and the deacon said to me,
with tears in his old watery blue eyes:
why, bless your heart, sir, you don't
think I'm going to take his money do
you? The only son Of his mother aud she
u widow, and all tied up in double bow
knots with the rheumatics besde True
enough, let his father have the money,
and my wife, she says, says she TO me,
Well, deacon, my dear, we've not got a
child, and shall be just rs well off Il hun
dred years from now if the widow never
PAYS II cent; but 'ording to my calcula-
ton it's better to let the boy think he's
payin;' she says might us well try to
keep u barrel of vinegar from workin' as
to keep that boy from workn'. It's the
mother in him and its got to work. We
think good deal of the widow, Mandy
and me. | did before | ever saw Mandy,
but for all that we hold the mortgage, and
Johnny wants TO work it out. Mandy and
me, and we are going to let him work.
turned away, for l was going to sup
at Johnny's house; but before | went |
asked the deacon how much Johnny had
already paid.
Well, don't know; Mandy knows-I
pass it TO her-she keeps the book. Drop
in before YOU go to the train and Ill show
it to you.
dropped in and the deacon showed me
the account. 1t was the book of savings
bank in Il neighboring town, and on its
pages were credits of all the little sums
the boy had earned or paid; and | saw
they were standing to Widow Beebe's
name. grasped the deacon's hand. He
was looking away over the house-tops to
where Monadnock was smiling under the
goog- night kiss of the sun.
Good-by, sir, good-by," he said, re-
turning my squeeze with interest. " Much
obliged, I'm sure, Mandy and me, too !;
when we see it we know the real stuff it
takes to make man-and Johnny has got
it; he is like that mountain over there
chock full of grit and lots of backbone"