The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1885-07-10

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answered by a pleasant looking farm
er.
"Any clocks you would ike to hav
repaired to-dayP"
"Wal, now, dun.know; there's tina
old clock father left me. 'I've allu
thought I'd like to have that put t.
rights"
Every well, would be pleased Il
straightcn it up for you"
what do you charged"
zone dollar, sir. "
That's morn its worth. I'll give
you a quarter an your dinnerp"
"All right, sir. I'll do IT,"
Fortunately he did not wait for me
to finish my work before dinner, he
took me at once to the kitchen.
wonder what the old fellow thought
of my appetite, saw him watching
me with an astonished look.
Don't you wish you had given me
a dollar instead of my dinnerp" slipped
out of my mouth before thought.
Il swan l do" replied he with a guf-
faw. "But. if you can tinker as well
as you can eat, won't find no fault. ="
After dinner he conducted me to a
pleasant sitting room and placed an
old fashioned clock upon the table for
me to manipulate.
He then left me. 1 looked at that
clock with defiance and tackled it with
a vim. 1t came to pieces readily
enough. All could do was to rub it
little and put it together again, but
would do that much any way.
AS l was busy securing up the dust
covered wheels, [ became conscious
that there were some girls in'the next
room taking an unseen survey of my
self and my doings. The door be-
tween us was wide open, and could
hear them tittering as they looked
through the crack behind the door. /
could hear too the click of sewing
machine and the rustic of cloth in that
forbidden domain, but l concentrated
my mind upon my work, and soon /
began to wonder if ever l could put
the thing together again.
tried it; it was vain endeavor.
changed it half-dozen times but still |
it was no 90. What was to be donee |
[ called my futile brain to my aid, and |
was about to inform my employer that
l had left some very important tools
where l had last piled my trade, and |
propose to go back for them before fin
ishing my work, and thus escape,
when heard from the next room a
different sound from that of the sew
ing machine.
1t was that of an improvised tele-
graph. The tapping of some hard snb-
stance upon the window pane and to
ny experienced ear it said
''Look under your chair. You
lave dropped one of the wheels"
glanced quickly around. There lay
he wheel. Instead of picking it up, I
apped with my jack-knife upon the
able:
"Who on earth are you?"
'An old friend" came back
Bismarck" shouted, bounding
nto the other room overturulng table
nd clock in nv haste.
There she was, the precious darling,
rettier than ever.
| caught her in my arms never heed
~ the astonished lookers-on, and =,
ugged her and kissed her with all the
ent up fondness of five years, and she
sturned the kisses.
She will not own it now, but she did, c
would take my oath to it, but then +
We heard that women forget all about a
leir young days when they are once t
,ttled in life. b
Bismarck informed me that her par u
ITS had died of cholera almost 0
J soon as they had landed in Paris, Il
Id that she had returned to v
merica and had sewed for her living e
Ter since. !.
put that clock together before l is
arted for town, and what was more n
tonlshing, the thing actually run for
onths afterwards. G.
That quarter carried me to my uncle's Ct
here | became gentleman of consid- q
able Importance, and after short ii
ne Bismarck and myself were mar tt
ID. ST
No, my uncle did not die and leave Sc
all his property, but for all that we OF
Q the happiest couple in St. Louis, fl
: with my darling Bismarck, money es
os not make the man. Sara b. pl
Sc, IN Chicago Ledger. OIL