Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1894-09-13
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TNW dow tho warm
rsouth wind waited the uneasy chirp.
ing OF 'chippies" among the leaves,
with the sweet odors of roses and new
iy-cut grass from lawns not far away.
"A bunch of pansies, bought early in
the morning from the little old woman
who seemed part of the pavement by
the first floor door, dropped on their
fInfoil-covered stems near the ink
stand.
Occasionally the rafting whir OF the
electric car and the mingled noise OF
many voices reached the workers ear,
apparently giving an added impulse to
ms quickly-moving right arm; for the
busy scratching of the pen ceased not,
even when deluged in the red light OF
an early June days sinking sun.
Inc room grew cooler, darker. The
big book closed with abang just as the
Office light flashed on; letters, blotters,
rulers, pens, found their places. The
worker rose quickly, closed and locked
his desk, eager for approaching free
dom While putting on his coat and
hat he heard-as he might have heard
many times during the last thirty
minutes - ringing tones of boyish
laughter.
''At it again! / wonder what in the
world they can find to laugh at" he
grumbled, as he started down the
long hall to the stairway leading to
the first floor.
Yes! I'll bet the 'highster' was
first fellow out!' he further COM
planned, passing the elevator and be-
ginning rapid run down the stairway
through a cloud of dust raised by the
vigorous janitor. As he reached the
lower floor a sudden shower, so gener-
ally welcome in warm weather, came
dashing down upon the still, dry
street. Plague take it.-stopped
again!-no umbrella!-car gone.-iust
my everlasting luck!" he almost
growled, bringing himself to sharp
halt at the foot of the stairs. This
was, to him, a most uncomfortable
world. s'I'll have to wait six minutes
of course I'll miss my supper" he
muttered, stalking to the doorway.
looking not unlike a prince of pet
tishness-
Another bounding burst of boyish
laughter at that instant submerged
his egoism in interested attention upon
its source.
A merry group of muddy newsboys
crowded close up to the stained-glass
window of the editorial room, near
the doorway where the little old wom-
an had been seated in the morning.
One, with mouth wide open, was try
ing to catch the streaming drip of
water from the high, projecting win
dow cornice. Another. like buttin2
ram. was aiming to get his own hot,
curly head under that steady, cooling
fall.
Our belated bookkeeper had made
his exit from the wild domains of boy
hood not many years ago. His face.
clearing slowly, surely, showed he
kept his bond of allegiance-youthfu
ness-still upon him.
Every boy seemed perfectly happy
and full of joyous Turnover needing
the falling shower-laughing, joking.
chatting, whistling. yet doing all
with degree of civility quite notice
able.
A minutes watching revealed the
fact that the center of attraction was
a little old woman-yes!-the little old
pansy woman!
quaint bonnet, made of the same ma
terial, firmly tied under her chin, but
pushed far back now on her disheveled
hair, she sat on a box within the door
way leading into the editorial rooms,
safely sheltered from the sudden
shower. Her aged face, though smil-
ing now, showed traces of beauty
worn away by sharp storms of many
sad summers and weary winters
Each prancing, restless boy had
something to tell her, something to
show her, something to ask her. She
had a word for each-of banter for
one. of praise for another, of encour-
acement for another; look, a nod, q
smile-none were ignored, none passed
by, while the hard and wrinkled hands
deity showed the ''greenies of the
gang" how to fold the papers so that
they would be least soiled in carrying.
A car passed by; but the bookkeeper
saw it not He moved toward the next
door almost unconsciously.
Make room for the gentleman,
bows" said the old woman, sliding
back on her box; aspect he's missed
his car, n guess he don't like the water
like he used to-" scanning him quiz
ideally.
The bookkeeper shook his head de-
cidedly, gazing off down the street as
II looking for another car.
An unmistakable small son of Erin,
with his few remaining papers snugly
tucked under his coat. joyously skipped
across the pavement into the gutter,
revellng in the luxury of running
water and bare feet. Then he half
skipped, half danced away down the
street to the melody of his own merry
whistling my Sweetheart's the Man
in the Moon," and the bookkeeper
wished he could do that too.
He heard the old woman say:
This has been good day for me.
bows, see! have just one paper and
one bouquet left!
..Bully for We, Us s Co.. That's why
ror shouted one enterprlsing lad, as
he rushed across the street to cry his
papers into the ears of some mechanics
,errily walking home through the
summer shower. Making a sale. he
dotted his cap to his purchaser, waved
il to the group at the doorway and
ran on to intercept some newcomers
further down the street He was in
stantly followed by others. scattering
in various directions, for these sons
of the street stop not long for wet
weather or dry, bitter cold or sultry
heat.
Eonr bows were left by the little old
-non, the bookkeeper mentally