Middletown transcript., 1883-02-02
Written for the MTddIetot0n Transcript.
VIRTUE IS IT'S OWN REWARD
BY SCOTT WAY.
CHAPTER L.

at MS u6SK with pen III HIS HdHu ait
a frown upon his brow. There was al
unhappy expression about the corners
Of his mouth and a dangerous look in
his off eye. Something he had eaten
for dinner was lying heavily upon his
stomach. Evidently he was in nc
mood to overlook a shirking of duty
upon the part of any one of his EN-,
ployes. His eyes were upon his ledger,
but his ears swung out like the wings
of windmill and received the returns,
came they low OF came they loud, from
the different quarters of his establish
ment. Barton Skinfint was not deal
by large majority.
"A frail, slender youth stood behind a
counter,-a fraiI, slender youth with a
sad and pensive cast Of eountenance.
He did not look happy, but perhaps he
was as happy as he could be on salary
of dollar week.
A customer approached the counter
"a woman of cold, austere mien, she
was and asked to be shown some
prints. The youth smiled sadly, threw
down the full of seven shelves, and
waited patiently while the customer
turned over the whole pile and exam
ined each piece with critical eye.
I" Will these prints fade ?'' she asked,
after painful silence, as she fingered
a pile of dyed cheese cloth with a sickly
purple vine, warranted fast colors."
The youth looked at the woman
straight and square out of a pair of
honest blue eyes-they were the only
pair he had about him to look out Of
and said he was afraid they would.
The woman looked disappointed
She wanted fast colors'' for five cents
a yard, and these were the only FIVE
cent prints on the counter. She was
thoughtful for a moment, and then she
united the corners of her pocket hand
kerchief, counted her available cash
capital, bought a paper of hair pins and
went out.
" Thomas - The merchants voice
seemed to have peculiar awfulness
about it to Thomas. 1t seemed to
come up out of the merchants boots
and to roll out i'll grand, crushing
volume, as though it wanted to strike
Thomas amid-ships and double him up
like a jack-knife. 1t unnerved Thomas,
50 that his knees smote each other, and
he did not reply until his name had
rolled out of the merchants mouth for
the second time, louder, deeper, and
two-fold more terrible than before.
Sir ?" said Thomas, meekly.
"Step this way, Thomas ~
Thomas stepped. He stepped with
briskness. He stepped
with unwonted alacrity. When he was
done stepping he stood before the mer-
chant, with his eyes fixed upon the
bottle at the corner of the
S desk. He knew that some
thing was coming for which the house
was not prepared. And so there was.
" Thomas!" repeated the merchant,
with brow like a corrugated wash
board, what did you tell that woman
about those prints ?''
II told her I was afraid they would
fade, sir"
You did, did you'll You told her
you were afraid they would fade why
did you tell her that, young man ?''
Because she asked me, sir.''
If the merchants face had looked
like a thundergust before, now it re-
sembled a Kansas cyclone. His anger
was 50 deep that it held his tongue for
a minute, and his fingers twitched like
they we're itching to pull something up
by the roots. Before, he was only mad
in spots ; now he was mad all over.
There was probably not a spot on him
as big as a dime that wasn't mad.
When he Tegained the use of his tongue
he said in awful, measured tones
"Don't the labels say that those prints
are warranted fast colors ?''
" Yes, SIR" replied Thomas, still
keeping his eyes upon the mucilage
bottle; but 1 fear the labels do not
tell the TRUTH This was manly
thing for Thomas to say. This was
manly stand for boy to take on
salary of one dollar a week. But the
anger of Skinfint was crushing. Now
his voice seemed to come up out of the
cellar.
" "Silence, boy What right have you
to know more about piece of goods
than the man who made it ? Do I pay
you a dollar week to speak the truth !?
Do | harbor you and give you of my
hard-earned experience to have you
drive customers from my doors ? Here
is your weeks wages, less the amount I
lost by missing that sale. Now get.
And Thomas got.
CHAPTER II.
Thomas Goodurchin was the only
support of a fond father and mother
and two small brothers and a sick sis
ter. He was a good boy all the way
through and around the edges. When
he was mere child his gentle mother
took him upon her knee and told
him the charming anecdote about
George Washington and his little
hatchet. The anecdote impressed him
deeply. It impressed him so deeply
that he slid down from his mothers
knee, stole out to the woodshed and
got the old dull family hatchet that had
belonged to his grandfather and hadn't
been sharpened since it was new.
With it he went forth to emulate the
noble example of the paternal ancestor
Of his country. But alas, Thomas fa-
ther was a poor man and had no cherry
tree. He could not afford a cherry