Thomas County cat. [volume] (Colby, Kan.) 1885-1891, 1886-05-20
"GoING.TO."

Sometimes come! Hurry up!
Sometimes comet
Sometime! What do you mean?
Where are you, any ways and who S
speaking to ne? l don't see any one, "
and Rose Murray rubbed her eyes,
shrugged her shoulders, and pinched
her hand a little, just to find out if she
were awake, or if she were dreaming.
She wasn't dreaming, that she knew;
for the same voice, with no apparent
owner, kept on talking. And such
queer things it said in that unpleasant
way!
Sometime! That's next door to in
a-minute, close neighbor to after
| awhile and going-to-do it. Pretty-soon,
tomorrow, one-of-these-days-they can
all be found together. And you dom
know where sometime is? Well, l
never heard any girl of your age talk
more about it. But come along; you Ii
soon find out where it is
Come along! Where? How can l
60 anywhere with only a voice?''
''How did you 60 to Paris last week,
and to that strange party the other
night, where the girls all wore their
school dresses. and the boys forgot to
stand by themselves on one side Of the
| room?"
Those places! l didn't go to either
OF those. was only dreaming then.
But am not asleep now-am II" and
hose squeezed her left-hand little fin
ger very hard, and rubbed the heel of
her foot carefully on the sensitive side
of her right foot. No, I'm not asleep.
Where are you going to take me?''
"Never mind, just come" replied
the voice; and added, as Rose moved
slowly in the direction from which it
came: Now you're in Sometime, and
hope you IL enjoy yourself. I'll come
back for you one of these days-one of
these days." and the voice died away
as it repeated these words in a mali
cious tone.
what queer dream I've had,"
thought Rose; this is my own room,
and it's almost dinner-time by the
clock. I'd better 90 and make the
dessert l told mother l would after
awhile"
mo, no! Me first Me first!n called
out voices all around her-sorle close
by her, some far away, some loud,
some so faint that She could just catch
the words-but so many! The room
was full of them, and each one be-
longed to something. The loudest of
all came from the a zebra 1T her feet,
which had fallen from her lap as she
looked over the last ST Nicholas, say
ing: III do that old problem in
couple OF minutes
The problem spoke now: You
can get away, you must do me first. >
Very well, answered Rose; you re
a great bother to me. but Ill soon set
tie YOU and she took pencil from
the table in preparation for hard work.
NO, no! Give me back to my own
er. You said you would in an hour or
SO, when you borrowed me this morn
ing
Il want to be sewed up" demand
ed great rent in her dress. You
promised to do me sometime, and it's
sometime now"
Put me in order, then," came
from the work basket.
Find me first" cried out the
thimblc from-where?
Poor Rose looked around despair
ingly. 1t was her own room, truly,
but it was so full of voices, so crowded
with things that ought to be done,
and SO many more were pushing in
through the doors and windows!
What should she do? Books wanted
to be returned to their owners, the
newspaper must be read to her grand
mother, pictures must be hung
straight, the table drawer must be put
in order, even the dust on the furni-
ture insisted that it should be taken off
Immediately.
Where should she begin? Be done
they must; and she went to work in |
good earnest, trying to quiet some of
the voices nearest her. But what was
the use? for every thing done, dozen |
others crowded around her. Promises |
she had made long ago kept calling to |
her; and, worst OF all, little, still |
voices in her heart reminded her of |
her broken promise to amuse the baby |
while her mother took nap before |
dinner, of the visit she had meant to |
make sick friend, of the little quar-
rel she had been going to make right |
with her cousin, of the bundle of |
warm clothes she had promised to give
Tommy Brown, the washer-woman's |
son, early in the winter.
Rose had been called a little pro-
crastinator long before she knew what
the big word meant; and only last |
week one of her best friends had writ
ten to her, and begun the letter: MY
dear Going-to-do-itr' But now what
was to be done? something must. She
never could do all those things. 1t
seemed as if every thing she had meant
to do and didn't do, every thing she
had promised to do and had forgotten |
to do, since the time she was five years
old. was here now, pushing against
her. and crying to her with tormenting
voices: Its sometime now, Rose. o
Rose! it's sometime
What did she do? Well. what any
other ifteen-year-old girl would have |