The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1892-02-03
Selected storm.
An Unmended Pocket, and a Mis-
adventure.

y
pocket?"
(which pockct?" jerked out b. Sc,
not lifting her eyes from the delicious
story she was reading.
"My vest pocket"
"You don't have to put things in it,"
"But do. like to put things in it,
Well, 20 away now. I'll do 1t this
afternoon"
"I'm going away to Hackettstown;
father wants me to go to see MIR. Brown
for him. | never had long journey
on the train alone before. shan't be
home till dark"
"H'm," assented Bess, lost again in
the delicious story.
Lulu worked in factory and was
hurrying off with her lunch, Sophie was
learning dressmaking and must be in
her seat among The girls at seven
o'clock. Rob gave quick, implorinS
glance toward them, but both were too
self-absorbed to notice it, Bess, the
Youngest of the girls, and two years
older than Rob, had risen early and
cooked good breakfast for the work
ing people, and now, while her father
was putting on his overcoat and the
girls gigg ing and hurrying off, she stole
ten minutes for the story. After the
breakfast dishes were washed and the
sleeping-rooms in order she had to walk
mile to the hospital in order to take
the paper and jar of blackberry jam
to Aunt Elmira, who was homesick and
depended upon her visits. 1t was true,
she might read the story to Aunt Ell
mira, but then, she had snatched half
of it and how could she wait? And
wasn't Rob always teasing for some
thing? She eased her conscience with
this thought as she stepped light y
about the kitchen. He was not like
other boys, quite, since he fell and para
lyzed his right arm. He was slow
about everything, and mother had
minded dying and leaving him more
than any of the others. But he was off
for days vacation from the store and
he would have good time, and tonight
she would mend his pocket.
"Isn't it time for Rob to come
homer" asked Lulu at the supper.table.
Yes" replied her father, high
time. | cautioned him about every
thing and explained everything, and he
seemed to understand. 1t will make a
man of him TO be sent off by himself
and hadn't time to see Brown N.Y.
self-he will do the errand all right.
But | missed him in the store. He is
slow, but he is careful, and my custom
ers trust him."
AT that very moment Rob was out
under the stars walking home from
Hackettstown. He did his elrand, got
fifteen-cent dinner, and then ran hall
mile to the railway station for fear OF
losing his train. His ticket was all
right. But was ii? He had bought the
return ticket as his father explained
and the conductor had torn il off and
he had put it in his vest pocket, jam
ming it down to make it safe, and had
not thought of it since. In the pocket
with the hole!
something might have happened, anC
the remembrance Of the solitary five
cents left from his dinner, he pushed
thumb and finger into his vest pocket
Out they came, thumb and tinger-thert
was nothing in the pocket but the hole
And Hackettstown-how far ,cds Hack
ettstown from Brooklyn? 1t had no
taken very long to come-but to wall
all those miles! Could he get home to
night? His father was long way off
and nobody ever helped him but hi'
father. There was nothing to do bu
to start and go-on, on, on. One day
he had walked twenty miles, but this
distance was twice twenty, and more
perhaps five times twenty; and ht
must be home tonight; he had hi
father to help, and the coal to bring VI
for Bess.
Tears swelled in his heart, grew bigge
and bigger and choked him. He wa
only fifteen yesterday, and he had beer
mothers boy so long. 1t was TIVE
O'Clock now, big clock somewher,
struck two heavy strokes, and suppe
would be ready at seven, and he mus
be there. He knew the way; he woul'
go the way the railroad went. TheI
he walked on and on, the way the rail
road went, and he was tired, and it wa
growing dark, and he would have beef
hungry but that his throat was Away
full of something. 1t grew dark an
darker, and would have been very dar
but for the stars and the trains and tn
lights and the stores; it ,OaS dark, and h
was nowhere near Brooklyn. 1t mus
De nine CLOCK, Ten U ClOCH; perhaps II
must sleep somewhere and start fres
in the morning. He would turn OF
into the country where there were barn
and hay for his bed, and cows to kee
him company. The stars made hir
lonely, and the lights were going out i
the houses, and he did not meet man
people. There were houses enough
but they did not seem to have barns
He might curl up on somebody's stoo
and put his head on the mat, but then
somebody would see him. Away GU
in the country was better. Their
would be no policemen to send him OF
or to ask him questions.
The streets were darker as he turne
away from the railroad, the house
more scattered, and there were barr
here and there. Still he was afraid {
barns. Somebody might be around an
warn him off and call him tram
Another hour, aud another, he went OF
The starlight was the only light an,