Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1880-11-28
"Who washed them?n


use her hands at all, and some days her
feet are SO bad she cannot leave her chair;
so have to learn to make the beds and
scrub the floor, and wash the dishes; and
can cook almost as well as girl
SIS it possible9 l shall have to take
supper with you on my way back to the
city, and test your skill"
Johnny blushed, and I added:
cts pity, my boy, that you have no
sister,"
81 had one" he said, gently, ".but she
died; and-if she lived, l wouldn't have
wished her to lift. and bring wood and
water, and surub as poor mother always
did. Sometimes | wish I could have
sprung all the way from baby to man.
It's such slow work growing up; and it
was while mother was waiting for us to
grow up, that she worked so hard
''But, my dear boy, you cannot expect
to be son and daughter and mother, all in
one. You cannot do the work for whole
family
Eyes, can /; it isn't much, and am
going to do If, and the work my father
left undone. I'm going to pay that
l.
Heaven grant you may" 1 said, fer
vently, under my breath, "for not many
mothers have such son.
"Mother does not know | mean to do
it, and she is very anxious should 90 to
school, and mean to go sometime; but
I know just where the boys in my class
are studying, and I get the lessons at
home. Mother reads them to me out of
the book, while l am washing the dishes
or doing her work, and we have great
fun. I try to remember, and repeat it,
and if we come to anything we can't
make out, I take it over to the teacher,
IN the evening; she is very kind-she
tells me-
Very kind! Who would not be kind
to such boy? I felt the tears coming
to my eyes at such sudden VISION of
this son doing girls work, while his
poor old mother held the book in her
twisted hand and tried to help him to
learn
"But all this does not earn money, nv
boy. How can you hope to save if you
give your time indoors?'
sob, don't do girls work all day: no,
indeed! l have worked out our taxes on
the road. It wasn't much, but I helped
the men build stone wall down by the
river; and Decon Ball lets me do a great
many days work for him, and when
get chance to take any one from the
hotel to ride, he lets me have his team
for almost nothing, and l pay to him
whatever make. And I work on the
farm with the men in the summer; and 1
have COW of my own. and sell the
milk at the tavern; and we have some
hens, too, and we sell the eggs. And in
the fall l cut and pile the winters wood
in the sheds for the people who haven't
| any little boys-aud there's good many
people about here who haven't any boys"
he added, brushing fly from the old
white horse with the tip of his whip.
After this we fell into silence, and
rode on through the sweet New England
roads, with Monadnock rising before US
ever nearer and more majestic, It i'm
pressed me with sense of its rugged
strength-one of the hills, 'srock-ribbed
and ancient as the sum-" but I glanced
from the mountain to the little red head-
ed morsel of humanity at ny side with q
sort of recognition of their kinship.
Somehow they seemed to belong togeth-
er. felt as if the same sturdy stuff was
in them both. 1t was only fancy, but
it was confirmed the next day; for when
came back to town after seeing nv in
valid friend, went to call on Deacon
Ball. found the deacon white haired
and kindly-faced. He kept the village
store and owned pretty house, and was
eveidently very we'll 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 and
she widow, and all tied up into double
bow knots with the rheumatics besides
True enough I let his father have the
money, and my wife, she says, says she
to me, "Well, deacon, my dear, we've
not chick nor child, and shall be just
as we'll off a hundred years from now if
the widow never pays cent; but 'cording
to my calkerlation it's better to let the
boy think he's payin'. She says l might
as well try to keep barrel of vinegar
from workin'. It's the mother in him
and it's got to work. We think a good
deal of the widow, Mandy and me. l
did before 1 ever saw Mandy; but we
hold the mortgage, and Johnny wants to
work it out. Mandy and me, we are
goin' to let him work.
turned away, for was going 10 sup
at Johnny's house; but before went 1
asked the deacon. how much Johnny had
already paid.
"Well, I don't know; Mandy knows
| pass it to her-she keeps the book.
Drop in before you go TO the train, and
III show it to you.
dropped in and the deacon showed
the account. 1t was the book OF saw
ings bank in neighboring town, and on
its pages were credits of all the little
sums the boy had earned or paid; and I
saw they were standing to Widow Bee
be's name. grasped the deacon's hand.
He was looking away over the house
tops to where Monadnock was smiling
under the good night kisses of the sun.
"Good by, sir, good by" ne said, re-
turning my squeeze with interest. "Much
obliged, I'm sure, Mandy and me, too;
but don't you be worried about Johnny.
When we see it we know the real stuff it