The Dickinson press., 1891-05-09
on a sick friend and old neiehbor at the

on u SICK ItlenO II Olu elRnOOf at the
station just above Antioch.
Jack thought he had never seen so fair a
day-the sun shone, the birds sang and
the flowers were everywhere.
"You a come to meet me Mt IL O'Clock,
Jack" his mother said, rs she kissed his
cheek. "l'n be sure to come on that train
unless something happens"
'lll be here, mother said Jack. ito
every train until you come"
The sun still shone when the train came
in at oon Jack thought the whistle
sounded mournful, somehow. And the
engine "slowed up sooner thar usual, so
that the train came in slow and solemn
like.
And the telegraph operator had laid his
hand in a very gentle way on the boys
head as he hurried past him. And Engi-
neer Robinson never Once looked out to
speak to him. The fireman, too, turned
his face the other way and was busy with
his shovel. The brakeman leaned OH his
brake and never lifted his eyes as the
cars pulled up. Jack thought it all very
strange.
"Iiere l am, mother"
The conductor cleared his throat as the
well-knOwn welcome rang through the
train. Passengers turned from the Win
dows and put their handkerchiefs to their
eyes, as if the sight of an eager little face
aglow with expectation and delight were
painful to them.
"Here l am, mother" He was scanning
every face eagerly, longingly, when the
conductor stepped out.
"Jack," he said, 'she isn't aboard" A
shadow fitted across the bright counte.
nance. The conductor took the boys
hand IN his and held it close.
"Jack, my boy" he said. "you must be a
man. Your mother has not come, will not
come, Jack. Your mother is dead, my son."
And the sun still shone, but not for
Jack.
He never knew the terrible story, how
in stepping from the train her foot slipped
and she fell beneath the wheels which
passed over her body. He never knew
for from that day he never knew anything
except that she had never come back to
him.
Day after day crept On, growing into
years. Day after day when the whistle
sounded a little figure was seen to climb
the wood-pile-Jerry Cranes wood-pile
then-to watch for his mother.
His eye seemed to search every window
as the trains pulled up.
"Here l am, motherw! the shrill, clear
voice would ring out. And when the train
had passed, som one would explain:
"Its poor Jack Conner come 10 meet his
mother"
They grew accustomed to seeing him
there as the days drifted on into years and
he still kept his promise.
"Every train until you come back" he
had said; and day or night, winter or sum-
mer, the trainmen would see the cottage
door open and knew in was Jack waiting
for his mother.
One day they missed him; he was i'll,
raving with a fever.
Jerry Cranes wife bent over his pillow;
the poor little life was going.
At ten O'Clock he opened his eyes.
sis No. 6 in yet?" he asked.
mot yet, Jack" they told him.
He smiled and closed his eyes again.
"She'll be here on that train,' he said.
II must go down to meet her when No. 6
comes in"
At eleven o'clock he started and sat up
in bed.
sis she in YETI" he asked. "Is No. 6 in ?"
Not yet, Jack, dear" they told him, and
he1 dropped back among his pillows,
where he lay for an hour. talking first to
the engine, then to Engineer Robinson.
Then his mind wandered to his father and
and the night he died.
"Stick to your engine, and stand by your
mother, jack" they heard him whisper.
AT midnight a whistle sounded sharp
and shrill, and Jack raised himself in bed
and gave a cry Of joy: ashes imp he
shouted. mo. 8 is in. Here 1 am, motherv
The train pulled up and stopped. 1t was
only a freight stopping for. water, but that
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