The National tribune., 1882-04-01
A Story for the Children

stood the matter best.
1t began pretty much like other days, only
that there was heavy fog, and Dan knew
that it was bad weather for haying and tip
top for fishing. He made up his mind to 60
fishing Perhaps, if his mind had not been
already made up, he would not have minded
so much when his father said at the break
sfast table:
"We must get the scythes in good order,
SOS to take fair start at the lower meadow
tomorrow. Don't let me have to waste time
hunting after You, Daniel, when Pm ready to
| 60 at it,"
Daniels appetite was gone at once. How
| he hated to turn that heavy creaking old
grindstone! and how sure his father was TO
find q dozen things to do first, and keep him
waiting all the morning! He went around
by the sink drain, and dug his bait; he ex-
amined his fshing-pole; he put up his lunch !;
he even tried n worm On the hook; and then
he wandered disconsolately around, wishing
| grindstones had never been invented.
He went to the end of the garden, and
leaned sulkily over the low stone wall, eat
ing the half-ripe harvest apples and throw
ing the cores spitefully away. Down the
road a few rods lay the millpond, and in the
middle of the road near by stood Deacon
Skinner's horse and chaise.
Old Whitley had his nose down, and one
leg crooked In a meditative fashion. The
Deacon was over in the field, making a
| bargain with Solomon Murray for some
! young cattle. What fun it would be to start
! the old horse up, and set him trotting home
! Dan could almost hit him with an apple
core. He tried two or three, just to see and
| then he picked up a smooth round stone
from the WALL and sent it singing through
the air.
| Old Whitley brought up his nose with
jerk, Strengthened his fore-leg, and started
off at brisk trot, the chaise top fitting and
pitching back and forth.
Dan laughed-at least the laugh began to
grow, when he caught one glimpse of a
frightened little face at the chaise window
and knew that Mamie Dane, the Deacon's
little lame grandchild was in the chaise.
1t was only glimpse, and then the bank
of gray fog swallowed Whitley and the
| chaise, and it seemed to Dan that they had
gone straight into the millpond.
"Daniel! Daniel! come on, now, and be
spry about IT," called his father, as he moved
toward the grindstone; and Dan obeyed,
though he felt as if his feet had all at once
| turned to lead.
Round and round and round; his tough
little hands were blistered on the handle, but
| he did not know it; his mouth and throat
were as dry as the stone, but he lid not think
of it. Crrr-crrr-errr," rang the rough, weari-
some noise, until his ears were so deafened
he did not even hear it; for he was perfectly
sure he had killed little Mamie Dane What
would people say? What would they do to
| him? Hang him, of course; and Dan felt
in his heart that he deserved it, and that it
would be almost satisfaction.
There" said his father at last, "I reckon
| that'll do, Daniel. You've been faithful and
stiddy at your work, and now you may go
fishing"
Dan never knew how he got to Long Pond,
or how he passed the slow hours of that
dismal day. The misery seemed intolerable,
and before evening he had made up his mind
that he could bear it no longer He would 90
home and tell his father; he would tell every
body. They might hang him; they might
dc anything they pleased,
Tramping desperately home with his
empty basket in his hand, he heard the
sound of wheels behind him, dragging
slowly through the deep sand. Perhaps that
was the sheriff coming to arrest him.
Dams heart beat harder, but he did not look
around. The wheels came nearer; they
stopped, and some one said:
"Hullo, Daniel! been fishin'? Fisher
mans luck, hey? Well, jump in here, and
I'll give yer lifb."
Before Dan knew it he was over the wheel
and sitting beside Deacon Skinner in the old
chaise, with Whitley switching his tail right
and left as he plodded along.
"Get up, Whitley" urged the Deacon;
"it's getting along toward chore-time
Whitley amt SO spry as he used to be, but
he's amazin' smart. This nornin' 1 left
Nanny in the shay while 1 was making a
dicker with Solomon Murray, and a keerless
thing it was to do, but I'd as soon expected
the meetin' house to run away as Whitley
I reckon something must scarf him; but he
Just trotted off home as stiddy as if I'd been
driving, and waited at the door for mother
to come and get Nanny before he went to
the barn"
"Oh, Deacon Skinner" burst out Dan, it
was me scarf Whitley"
"Did Se now, sonny. Well, there wuzn't
any harm done, and | know ye did't mean
to-"
~ did, did" said Dan, sobbing violently
from the long strain of excitement. 81
didn't know Nanny was in the chaise, and L
threw n stone at him."
well, WELL" said the Deacon, rubbing
his stubbly chin, and looking curiously at
Dan. "Beats all what freaks boys will take;
but l know ye won't do it agin"
II never will, ," said Dan, solemnly "This
has been the awfulest longest day that ever
was In the world.n