Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1898-12-15

floor walkers and employers.
"Where's Dineen's wagon? He isn'i
peddling this year," said Nelly.
"Oh, forgot that. But that's all
old and-kinder-'
Couldn't you paint it up?''
Oh, I'm no good at painting"
you're too-too bashfua to live,
Timmie Tighe. You just want some
body to plant you in chair, and put
a pen in your hand, and tell you what
to write, and you'll write it. But they
never will; and you'll go to the bad,
II you don't look out. That's what
you'll do"
ooh, no, won't do that, Nelly"
II wish 1 was boy"
'Besides"-the idea of the ped
| dler's wagon haunted Tim strangely
I'D have to have license, anyway. "
fWhat of it?"
"Whered get the money?"
Your mother has some. She could
set you up. You could get license
easily enough, and wagon, too, and
horse, and stock, and everything. if
you weren't such a-great big baby. "
Tim looked up once more in Nelly's
eyes. Now Nelly was not queen or
heroine of any sort. But the fire
which she flashed forth at that mo-
ment was the very inspiration which
has urged kings and conquerers to
their greatest achievements-so of
them no more adventurous in the be-
ginning than our halting friend, Tim
Tighe. Tim read it correctly He
saw fate in those eyes; he saw initia-
tive. They said "Must;" they said
"Will;" they refused with scorn to ac-
cept any palterins negative like
A week later he announced casually
to Nelly that he lad bought Dineen' 5
old horse and wagon; and the look in
the eyes was friendly once more. 1t
had been hard work to persuade his
mother to advance so much money:
but if boy cannot persuade his own
mother, what hope has he of moving
the world outside?
Tins first Investment was q stock
of blueberries. Columbus, journey
ing westward, in momentary peril of
| O1Cl thO DIinh vi blS WOG1u,
Nansen, pushing north, nearer and
nearer to the pole, but farther and
farther from kin and succor-neither
of these heroes could have felt m ore
venturesome than Tim Tighe, daring
to drive his newly-painted wagon
through strange city streets, and to
send into the cold ears of residents
and passing pedestrians that loud
clamor of his:
"Blueberries-all ripe three quarts
for quarter!"
The first time he shouted, the sound
of his own voice startled him; he
seemed to hear the words thrown back
in derision. But Willy, Nelly's ten
year-old brother, who sat on the wagon,
seat to "mind the team," seconded
his effort with such shrill, cherry
chirp. "Yeer they are-blueberries
all ripel" that Tim felt ashamed of
his timidity.
Thay had resolved to experiment in
q distant quarter OF the city. For fully
fifteen minutes their cries were un-
answered; but at last neat old lady
called Tim to her doorstep, inspected
his berries, and ordered three quarts
That three-quart order was the max
ing of man. Tim did not sweep the
berries off level with the top of his
measure. Far from it'll They rose in
a great mound from the middle of the
box, and when he turned them into
the lady's brown earthenware dish,
they actually spilled over at the sides.
He counted out the change in his
left hand with new feeling of i'm
portance; and the very horse started
with excitement when he tossed the
measure back into the wagon and sang
out boldly, with forid variations of
his tune:
mice ripe blueberries yees-three
quarts for quarter!"
At dusk, one great box of berries
was empty and another we'll hallowed
in the middle; Willy was hoarse, and
Tim, who did the walking, was tired !;
but his pockets were heavy with sill
yer, which he jingled for Nelly's sat
isfaction--she happened to be at the
gate again-and counted out on the
table for his delighted mother.
Next evening the return was larger.
Gradually the customers began to
watch for him and he for them. His
cry was a warning signal which in
quiet quarters could be hard block
away. It distinguished itself sharply
from other peddlers' cries. Really it
was like a song, compared with theirs.
Perhaps that was why the nice old
ladies called him so often to their
doorsteps. His being boy did not
seem to deter them i'll the least.
For a week he did not venture to
peddle in his own neighborhood. But
one evening, as he was driving home,
a stray customer tempted him, and his
call was heard by some schoolboy ac-
quaintances, whose. curiosity was
aroused.
"Hello, Timl Where's Dineen?"
'This isn't Dineen's team"
"Whose is it?"
"Mine."