The Penn's Grove record., 1899-04-07

~ = uOWu W Ii Z l l
iS. books five days in
the week when the
town clocks of the land strike nine.
Some of them are bright fellows, quick
to learn and slow to forget, and some
acquire knowledge by the sweat of
their brow. In short, they are an
everyday lot, with everyday virtues
and failings, and the especially com
monplace habit of fads. Generally
the fad of the moment is harmless
enough, but sometimes it goes too far.
There is still fresh in the memory of
the school, for instance, the case of
Bob Jennings, who suffered sadly be-
cause, once upon a time, he failed to
be in the fashion.
A few pudgy boxing-gloves were at
the bottom of it all. Rufe Henry's
brother at college sent him a set, and
after "Top" Browns father had added
another, the Blyville stock grew
rapidly. Boxing soon became the
''rage" at the academy, One of the
teachers, young, active and athletic,
volunteered to give the boys lessons.
"Sound mind, sound body" said he,
and took the youngsters in hand m
after another.
Solar it was all very well, but the fad
went farther. There was boxing in
plenty with no instructor eye upon the
proceedings nextit came to be the most
natural thing in the world for a little
grievance to be settled by a bout; and
after a time there were encounters
where the grievance, if any there were,
was of the himsiest nature that school
boys could devise.
And then, just when q "code of
honor" was in a fair way of develop
ment, Bob Jennings refused point
blank to face Tad Reynolds.
Older heads might have found ex-
cuses. Bob had been ailing a bit;
that luckless day he had headache to
make him spiritless and miserable. So
he walked away-"slumped," the
others beforehand thereupon the
school blithely sent him to Coventry.
The next day was Saturday, and the
skating was good. On the bank of the
mill-pond the academy lads chose sides
for a game of hockey. Boy after boy
was called and took his place i'll one of
the two groups, until Bob was left
standing alone.
you'll have 10 take Jennings" said
one leader to the other.
"No, sir-eeI'was the quick response.
"We'llplay one short"
Bob did not tarry to watch the game.
He threw his skates over his shoulder
and walked up the hill. Coward or
no coward, there would have been vio-
lence had anybody told him that he
was crying. cts the wind" he said
to himself half a dozen times. Near
the summit he left the path and crossed
a field to avoid a party of girls who
were hurrying toward the pond, chat
tering and laughing so gaily that by
comparison his dependency seemed
deeper than ever.
Near his own house Bob met a
neighbor, an elderly man, who gave
him a nod, and then called after him,
"What's the matter? Skating bad?"
mo, Mr.. Peck, it's all right" said
the boy, stopping reluctantly. 4
well, didn't care for it to-day"
Something better to do, eh?"
"No, I've nothing to do"
Mr.. Peck had known many boys,
but one who would not skate when he
could was a novelty. With a rheu-
matte limp he moved to his young
neighbor, looked him over and
whistled.
maybe you'd like a kind of chore
job" he said. Look here, Bob, I've
promised to take the family over at the
East Village a couple of quarts of milk
a day; and really, I'm not fit to do it.
This weather-it gets mel I'm not so
young as l was, by any manner of
means. If you'll take the contract off
my hands, I'll furnish the milk and
give you half the money. What do
you say to that?'
''Ill do it, Mr.. Peck" said the boy.
quickly. 'Ill do it, and be glad of
the chance"
The East Village consisted CT three
small houses, only one of which was
habitable. Some years previously a
Spectator had attempted a ''boom'' on
the strength of a new railroad. Some
cottages were Iun up, many big signs
painted; and the railroad went by the
new yillage-at the bottom of a fifty
foot cutting. Whereupon the project
languished. One or two houses we're
moved away, another was burned, a
few others fell down. For months no
body had lived there, until a family
coming to the town rented the best of
the ruins.
Nobody in the town seemed to know
anything Of the newcomers. Even Mr..
Peck could only say that they kept
within doors, and that his bargain had
been made with q little girl, acting as
envoy from her mother.
By road-or rather by the aban-
d0ned route of a once projected high
way-the East Village was nearly a
mile from where Bob Jennings lived.
Halt the distance could be saved by
a short cut across the fields and
through a neighboring bog, which
was frozen hard the first time Bob
crossed it.
Perhaps the walk in the clear, cold
mir, and the climb up the little hill on
which the cottage stood, did him
good; perhaps the mere fact of having
something 10 do was a mental tonic.
AT any rate, when he knocked at the
door Of the shabby house his spirits