Iron County register., 1898-12-15

did every stick of seasoned timber in
the loft. every dust-covered draught in
the roll cupboard, every tool, chisel and
.gouge, auger and drill, jig saw and
lathe. The possibility that there would
come time in his life when another
man would take his place in the old
pattern-room had never occurred to
him.
what are you studyin' about, ia
:ther?" asked his daughter, wringing her
.dishcloth, and fitting the pan into the
sink. You amt gettin' tired O. doin'
nothin' a'ready?'
"Oh, nothin', nothin'," he replied, fret
fully. ~ amt studyin' about nothin' in
particular. Where d'you put the pa
PERI"
He took the breakfast-stained sheets
that she gave him, and, sliding his
.spectacles down from his bald forehead
to his nose, tried to read. Usually he
had taken keen delight in looking over
the news; the only trouble was that
he seldom had time to read all he want
ed to. But this morning he seemed un-
able to interest himself. He felt that
there was plenty of time to go through
the whole thing from the first front
page headline to the last advertisement,
and there was no joy in it. His thoughts
would stray away from the peace COM
mission and the Philippines every few
minutes and go wandering off TO the
foundry. His daughter had gone up
stairs, and strange sort OF silence
had come over the place, through which
he could hear the high-pitched voices
of the peddlers crying their wares in
the street and the ticking of the walnut
scased clock on the mantel shelf. The
clock, as he looked at it, struck nine,
and as he counted the slow strokes he
was filled with vague, undetinable ap-
prehension. Nine o'clock, and here he
was sitting in rocking chair at home
and reading the paper! He wondered
what the time-keeper in his little office
box at the door thought about it.
Not much, perhaps. 'old Roffey"
remembered that he had thought little
of the old crew as one by one they
had left the rambling, smoke-blackened
place to return no more. Langley he
had missed most of all, and next to
him Big Nels, who used to tap the GU
pola; but there was always the roar of
the blast. the clank and clatter of the
crane chains, the rumble of the cleaner
and the tapping of the busy hammers.
He had missed neither of them, to tell
the truth, so much as the old fan belt.
That was part of the place. One foun-
dry man, molder or helper, looked and
iabored and swore much like another,
but it was a year before the new belt
acquired the glossy blackness and the
soft fiap6ng sound of the old one. 1t
had beeh one Of the boy Roffey's first
tasks to stand beside that old belt and
throw resin on 1t and tap it with a
stick 10 keep it on the pulley, and it
was with pang of regret that he saw
the stiff, creaking new one thrown over
the shaft and laced up while his old
friend was pitched aside in a limp, use
less heap. He had been thrown aside,
too. Not contemptuously, however.
There was comfort in that.
William-sOld Roffey" always called
the boss William, as he had a good
right 10 do, seeing that he had
held William in his arms the first time
he was ever inside of foundry-Wil-
liam calne to him one afternoon as he
was pushing fat pattern in and out
under the Jig saw, and, throwing on
the lever, told him that he wanted to
have talk with him. They sat down on |
the bench. and William picked up a |
pair of eompasses and dug the points
into the bench as he spoke. He told |
.sold Roffey. that he thought the lat
ter had worked about long enough and |
was entitled to a rest after his years |
cf faithful service. but he did not look