The Banner-Democrat., 1897-10-30

said.
Dwight Hopkinsl" said Irene, wit
a struggling suspicion that Dwigh
had lost some portion of his senses.
Its SO" said Dwight. "I suppose
father would give me some NOR,
money, if teased him, but shan't.
He told Irene all about it. "Yol
see" he explained, cit was a plagued
shame, and 1 couldn't stand it think
ing about it. She's always stood
higher in her class than Margare
Cary or any of those girls; and th,
idea OF her having to miss commence
ment, and all the fun, because sh,
hasn't dress"
81 know!" said Irene. Her voice
had little tremble in it. And there
was such a look in her eyes that
Dwight turned red and coughed.
"Pshaw! 'Twasn't anything" said
he, and he began to talk about Lynn
Trumbull's new shotgun.
When he started for school the next
morning, Irene was waiting for him
at her gate.
''I've had an idea," she said, ''an
inspiration. You can have your party
jnst the same, if you will. 1t won't
be the kind You were going to have,
but-wait till l tell you'll 1 thought
it up last night"
They were still talking so earnestly
when they mounted the schoolhouse
steps that they bumped squarely into
Bob Logan. ''What are you two
chinning about?" he demanded, "that
You can't see fellow of my size?"
He found out the next day. He and
the rest of the S. I. G. club, and a
few chosen outsiders, received invita-
tions from Dwight Hopkins to party.
They came in yellow envelopes, and
they were written on neatly cut strips
of brown wrapping paper. "Hard-
times Party" was penned in one cor
ner, and "Please wear your oldest
clothes" in another.
Curiosity and excitement ragged
among the s. t. G. Dwight was be-
sieged with inquiries. So was Irene,
whose completely in the matter was
more than suspected. But they had
nothing to say. ''It's all on the in
vitations, they averred. 'It's hard
times party, and you're to wear your
worse clothes; that's ALL"
An atmosphere of fascination sur
rounded the affair from the first. 1t
was not too much to say that the s.
L. G. had never made preparation for
party with more eagerness. Evelyn
Burns germans even had never caused
more discussion and confabulation and
general excitement.
"Everybody's accepting; I haven't
had regret. Look here!" Dwight
said to Irene, with glee, and he
pulled out of his pockets several hand
fuls of strange looking missives. They
were written on all sorts of cheap and
papers, from foolscap to
the back of an advertising card and
the torn off margin of q newspaper.
Good! They're getting into the
spirit of it already. Well have no
end of fun, said Irene.
Dwight's father had some business
out of town that day, aud it was $50
when he got home. Dwight had in
formed him that his party came off
that evening; and he saw the lighted
windows with pleasant thrill of ex-
pectation.
Somebody came forward, when he
with hearty, "How are you,
father? Glad you've come"-but he
did not for a moment recognize the
person.
whats this?" he gasped. "Eh?
what's this?"
Dwight was receiving his guests,
and Irene was assisting him. Dwight
was attired in a-coat he had outgrown
two years ago, and whose sleeves did
not reach much below his elbows; and
l pair of trousers in which he had
helped to paint the back porch; they
we're not only raggeda at the knees, but
laubed freely with paint; and an old
ed handkerchief concealed his lack
If collar Irene Winslow wore a
aded old shirt waist, bicycling skirt
With two large rents in it and the hem |
partly ripped, and some old shoes
With their toes stubbed out.
"What is it?" said Dwight. ''It's
| hard-times party, father"
Flora Osborne and George Clement |
we're coming downstairs. They shook |
lands with their host cordially. Flora |
vas arrayed in an old cotton freck, in |
which she had picked berries and |
lelped her mother can them, until its
'riginal color was lost in solid mass |
# stains; and George wore jacket |
whose buttons were missing, trousers
srinkled and mud-stained and frayed |
ound the bottoms, and some tennis |
hoes which were burst out at the |
ides.
Irene's mother was there, and |
)wight's father took seat beside her,
nd there they sat and watched the ar
living guests, and laughed until they |
1ere fairly tired.
Certainly it was a remarkable oc-
aston. The parlors filed rapidly with,
pparently, disreputable crowd of
Dung tramps and beggars. 1t looked
S if all the rag bags in town had been
mptied. Every fresh arrival was
reeted with hilarious shouts, and
by loudly gay mob.
heir mirth swelled to a deafening
lamor.
Sheridan Rider was the last conner,
l costume any respectable boot
lack would have scorned. When the
lerriment he excited had subsided, /