Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1894-09-13

TWO were interestedly watching q well
| quilt English-looking man coming
ieisureiy up the street, one hand mold
ing 2 ksrSe umbrella orer his portl,
form, the other searching .he deeps o.
his trousers pockets as ne approached
the - building.
| They seemed arguing. '.Naw, now'
ne heard one say. I'VE just stand from
under. He's hers-he's a regular. you
bet! Gee whiz. won't she be gay, tho
He'll get her last paper-say, if she
amt gone when we get back, let's buy
her bunch of pansies?"
I'm yer man." said the other: and
| with an almost demoniacal yell they
bounded off, crying in shrill, childish
treble:
Here's your indianapolis Evening
-! Five cents for the indianapolis
Evening -.'
The portly, comforta ble-looking man
had reached the doorway. The old
woman held forward her neatly-folded
paper, and her hand soon held the
nickel" in its stead.
Rains aren't good for rheumatism,
are they?" he remarked, smilingly, as
he put the paper in his coat pocket.
well, not so bad-not so bad; and
mighty good for pansiesr' she replied;
but he saw not her pansies, as he
moved away.
The listening bookkeeper was APP
parently deeply absorbed in matters of
momentous import. while he watched
one of the two remaining boys awl
wardly folding and refolding a paper,
not effectively following the directions
of Brownie" given amidst her own
chuckling laughter at his laundering.
The other boy, whom he had heard
called "Jamesy," had seated himself
On the floor la Turk, and was lost in
counting out his pennies and nickels
and dimes. mentally footing up his &C
counts, the bookkeeper thought, doing
all with an air of satisfaction Van
derbilt might envy. Now the old
woman turns accountant FOR him and
assists his none too agile mind in the
calculation.
The awkward folder inadvertently
bumped against tie legs of the wait
ing man, and, in lieu of an apology,
looked up patronizingly and inquired:
Say, boss, dye hear our new yell
while ago? She made it," said he,
nodding sideways toward the box.
''She's some, she is! You'll hear some
rattlin' ringers fer the ball games an
the Fourth" and he shook out the
now quite dirty paper, to try the fold
ing process once more.
This little old woman, as if divining
herself the object of some remark,
was looking at the bookkeeper ques-
tioningly.
Are these your sons9" he asked,
aimlessly.
''Haw, now, come off," gasped the
folder of the paper; ''nobody's sons"
I'VE jist stay along 18th her." ex-
planned the embryo Vanderbilt.
Were pards. tho, n help her."
Eve jist air." vouched the folder,
exulting in a final correct crease, and
darting off to make his late sales, fol-
lowed by the smiles of the little old
woman-veritably senior partner.
Another car glides by. The conduc-
tor looks interestedly at the book
keeper, but the bookkeeper doesn't
know it.
With clear and shining countenance
the little woman looked up into the
face of the young man, as she leaned
restingly against the cruth at her side,
saying, gently:
II have no sons here" so readily
responsive is the heart to human in
terest.
A little honest sympathy is myrrh
and spikenard for the soul to whom it
has been long denied.
The shower gained force. The gray
clouds seemed determined to give the