The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1881-07-27

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
l helped the men build stone wall
down by the river and Deacon Ball lets
me- do great many days work for him,
and when l 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 l work
on the farm with the men in summer;
and have cow Of my own, and l sell
the milk at the tavern; and we have some
hens, too, and we sell eggs. And in the
fall l cut and pile the wood in the sheds
for people who haven't any boys-and
theresa good many people about here
who haven't any boys, he added thought
fully, brushing a 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. 1t impressed
me with a sense of its rugged strength
one of the rock ribbed and ancient as
the sun; but glanced from the noun
tain to the little redheaded morsel of
humanity at my side with sort OF
recognition of the kinship. Somehow
they seemed to belong together. l felt
them both. 1t was only fancy but it
was confirmed the next day for when l
came back to town after seeing my
invalid, friend, | went to call on Deacon
Ball. 1 found the deacon white-haired
and kindly-faced. He kept the village
store and owned pretty house, and was
evidently very we'll to do Naturally,
we talked OF Johnnie, and the deacon
said to me, with tears in his old watery
blue eyes:
Why, bless your heart, sir, you don't
think | m going to take his money, do
you? The only son of his mother and
she widow, and all tied up in double
bow knots with the rheumatics besidel
True enough, let the father have the
money, and my wife she says, says she
to me, Well, deacon, my dear, we've
neither chick nor child, and we shall be
just as well off hundred years hence
if the widow never pays cent; but cord
ing to my calklation it's better to let
the boy think he's paying. Says she to
me, Deacon, you might as we'll try to
keep the barrel of vinegar from working
as to keep that boy. It's the mother in
him, and it's got to work We think
good deal of the widow, Mandy and me-
l did, before ever saw Mandy; but for
all that we hold the mortgage, and
Johnny wants to work it out Mandy
and me we, are going to let him work
tnrpa6 for 7 woo 10 OF
Johnny house; but before 1 went asked
the deacon how much Johnny had al
ready paid.
We'll, 1 don't know; Mandy knows
| pass it to her, and she keeps the book.
Drop in before you 60 to the train, and
I'll 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
Beebe's name. 1 grasped the deacon's
hand. He was looking away over the
house-tops to where Monadnock was
smiling under the goodnight kisses Of
the sun
Goodbye, sir, good byel he said, re-
turning my squeeze with interest Much
obleeged, I'm sure Mandy and me, too
but don you he worried about Johnny
When we see it we know the real stuff it
takes to make man-and Johnny has
got it; Johnnys like that mountain over
there-chuck full Of grit and lots Of back
bone
It'll, - VIZ