The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1896-06-24
Solitary Confinement.
BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.

The brief, decisive battle was over.
The seveu-year-old enemy routed,
though not subdued, was carried of,
kicking, in his nurses arms, scream
ing at the very pitch of his infantile
lungs, 81 WON'T won't l wo-o.o-n't
be good boy |" while the last glimpse
his mother caught was scarlet coun-
tenance where the heels should be,
and the two be-slippered feet oscil-
lating like human pendulums.
Mrs. Jessamy looked after little
Tommy in maternal tribulation.
''DO let me so to him, Solomon"
she pleaded, 81 am sure 1 conld quiet
him"
But Mr.. Jessamy-a bald-headed
sage of -and-ifty, with round gog-
giles that gave n preternaturally wise
expression to his countenance, and
spotless white waistcoat, festooned
with seals and chains-laid detain-
ing hand on her arm.
''Sarah," quoth he, oracularly, 81
am astonished at this very culpable
weakness on your part. The boy has
committed great fault in thus giving
way to an uncontrolled temper, and he
must be punished accordingly.
''But, Solomon, he is such mite of
thing!" pleaded the mother, piteous-
ly.
"That makes no difference. my
dear. Solitary confinement. Sarah
solitary confinement, on bread and
water, is what will break his spirit"
''But he may come out to supper,
Solomon?"
Mr.. Jessamy settled the goggles on
the bridge of his nose. with an auto
cratic dignity of movement.
''He will remain in the back store
room until tomorrow morning, Sarah. "
"Alone ?" gasped the nervous
mother.
"Alonel" pronounced the domestic
grand mogul. "Believe me there is
. nothing like solitary confinement. 1t
has been proved, my dear, more than
score of times. That boy of yours"
Mr.. Jassamy spoke as if he himself
had nothing whatever to do with the
proprietorship of Master Tommy
''has temper, and that temper has
got to be broken. Pray. Mrs Jes-
samy. do not annoy me with any fur
ther misjudged intercessions.
And thus pronouncing his ultima.
tum, Mr.. Jessamy stalked out into the
garden, to view the ripening globes of
netted melons and the budding tube
roses, for Mr.. Jessamy was a man OF
hobbies, and the latest hobby was hor-
ticulture, the more satisfactorily to
ride which he had rented this little
villa on the banks OF the Schuylkill,
with IN abundance of gables, honey
suckle LEAKAGE and water fronts.
"Simmons!" said Mr.. Jessamy,
sharply, as he stood with both hands
in his pockets surveying his domains.
"Sir!" grunted Simmons-a lank
specimen of the genus general gr-
dener, who appeared to exist with
spade over his shoulder and measur-
ing-line halfway out of his pocket
"How are the cgg-plants?"
''Getting along nicely, sir"
Sand the cherry tomatoes?"
"Well, sir, the dry weather helps
'em along amazin'."
Sand, Simmons"
Mr.. Jessamy bent down, settled his
goggles and then resettled them.
"Sir."
"Where is the big melon that / had
here-a watermelon, Simmons. on a
slate. just close to this stalker"
"Well, sir, I up and throwed it
away" owned Simmons; ''for what a
watermillion, sir, was doin' among
them cantelopes-"
You scoundrel You rascal I"
roared Mr.. Jessamy. "How dared
you do such thingp Do you know,
air, that you have frustrated one of
the finest scientific experiments of the
age-a watermelon grated on the
stem OF the cantelope vine-grafted
by my own hands ? Aud you to go
and throw it away as il it were a
bhghted pumpkin or a half-ripe
squash ! How dared you, I say
Villain wretch ! get out of my
sight !"
.IlNHsl