Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1897-03-08
FIRED AT RANDOM.

the real estate agent into whose hands
he had intrusted the care of the proper
ty he had received from his fathers es-
tate Estate is a big and general word
and many people use it in a grandilo
quent manner in speaking of a corner
lot in a marshy suburb. In Hardesty's
case it meant little better than that,
but it was no vast Anneke Jams tract by
any means.
He had not been in that little town
for IL years-indeed since the days of
his school attendance He recalled how
ON one summer afternoon he had vault
ed out of a window just ahead of the
schoolmaster' hickory, how when wal
Hoped for it at home he had left the
house in anger, and how that night he
had boarded freight train bound Gin
cinnatiward-and had never gone back.
Often he had thought of the old place
and when the days of his middle age
came they found him wondering and
wondering and dreaming at odd times
about Milt Wcodard's cooper shop and
the other things-but he did not go
back.
After the death of his father and
when he had come into the old family
residence he seemed to wonder and
dream all the more Once he had met
the father Of Doras Alderman at a quad
rennial session of the Methodist confer
ence and had talked to him of Doras,
who had been schoolmate, but in gen
eral he had had little communication
other than that witnessed in the letters
III 1D<%xr L., fI,n
real estate agent Now, on this even
ing, IL years afterward, he trundle2
into town in sleeper and thought
smilingly of the day when he had rolled
out on q box car. The agent had writ
ten him to the effect that somebody had
offered famous sum for the old Har-
desty homestead, purposing to cut it up
into an addition to the city. The agent,
a boyhood friend, had suggested that
Hardesty come down from Chicago to
give personal attention to the matter,
for by so doing he believed that few
thousand dollars more could be realized.
Dreaming of the old days, Hardesty
left the train at the depot. 1t was a
stone and brick depot, he noticed, and
not the little frame structure in which
he and Tom Coyne had lcafed in the
summer of old days. He remembered
Tom Coyne very readily, and thought
with especial amusement and interest
upon the episode of the bumblebees
Before reaching the town he had decided
that the very first thing he would do
would be to go into the little old wood
en- station and examine the walls to see
if the initials sd. H. for David
Hardesty, were still there where he had
cut them on the wainscotinG, to the fury
of Johnny Clark, the station agent. He
had counted a great deal on the pleasure
of this investigation, and it annoyed
him somewhat to step eff the car and
into spick and trig depot of masonry
construction.
After the affrcnt CT this evidence of
progress and prosperity had somewhat
worn away he started to walk down
the road to the residence of the agent,
his old friend. He knew the location of
the house, for as a Icy he had been able
to draw a map of the town, showing ev-
cry residence, Clubhouse, chicken coop
and fence. Somehow, however, he found
the quest bit difficult. New streets APP
peared, inviting him to walk down into
We're now Additions ard places, - all
built up With trinity painted frame
houses.
He found the object CT his search at
last and was admitted. His friend, the
agent, who had only partially expected
him, did not know him at first, and in
deed Hardesty would have passed the
other a Thousand times before recognize
ing in his brown nEstache and glossy
collar any semblance to the patched and
freckled boy who had helped him to rob
Frank Stones historic melon patch.
The agent introduced his wife and said
Hardesty would remember her, but
Hardesty would have done nothing of
the sort, except for the fact that he had
learned from correspondence that his
friend had married little Eda Stone,
daughter of the sovereign of the melon
patch.
They talked, after dinner, about
business and about the Improvement in
the city-it had been village in the
old days-and about the ACCESSIBILITY of
Hardesty selling his property.
Really said Hardesty, 81 don't
know that l care to sell. You see, the
old homestead has been i'll the family
for generations, and it seems almost q
sacrilege to dispose of it. Why, I was
born in that house. l used to look over
the fence there at the gooseberry bushes
in Gallagher's place and wond-by the
way, are the Gallaghers living there
yet?''
"Oh, mol They moved away long ago,
and fine, big, stone public school has
been built there. -
"A stone public school? Why, Henry,
when we were boys, a one room frame
house did us pretty we'll Do you remem-
Der how we used to revile the boys who
attended the acadelnY and call them