Greene County herald. (Leakesville, Miss.) 1898-current, 1900-11-02

why, don't you know?' the little
fellow exclaimed in establishment
"They spell Welcome because moth
er's coming home tomorrow. To-mor
row morning-yes, Stree! They've
cured her at the hospital, and she's
coming home. We've got pieces to
speak, and singing, and we're going tc
drape the picture with vines and flow
ers. I tell you there's times. when
your mother comes homer
Little Scarecrow crept away in the
tiers clinked, unheard, in his pocket
He was thinking.
There are "times"-I tell you
when your mother comes home. That
is what Scarecrow was thinking.
Scarecrow's mother was coming
"cured" her at that great, grim hos
pital for sick souls, over there? All
at once Scarecrow remembered some.
thing. She was coming out weeks
earlier. because of good behavior"
they said. Some one had told him.
/ oNaASNlON was NohStiONS cu0Qtniy Va
being proud of his mother. He had
never been proud Of her In his life
before.
| "Dey're goin' to let her out sooner
along O. her behavin' good" he mu-.
INJURED, little glow warming his thin.
brown cheeks. "Oh, 1 say, mebbe"-
his voice quavered excitedly-"mebbe
dey'se cured her!"
But there would be no green and
flowers or welcome" on the wall. The
utter contrast smote Scarecrow like
a dull blow. He stopped in the street
and sobbed in sudden compassion.
There would be no vines, no flowers,
no singing-no anything-when Scare
crows mother came home. That 9TH
er mother would have them all.
Then the silver coins clinked remind
ingly. They bore inspiration straight
from the tattered pocket of Respondent
Scarecrow to his brain under the tat
tered cap. Fifty cents will carry"
a great way sometimes, and 1t was
Scarecrow's trade to carry things.
There were the odds and ends Of
green's and the half wilted flowers that
the florist let him have cheap; there
were the buns and sausages and the
tea-and the bit of sugar and milk.
He carried them all home to the attic
In the dreary alley. All the way up
stairs, flight after flight, Scarecrow
whistled. Across the dark hallway
the invalid woman took up her nee-
die again and smiled.
"Maybe she amt comm home after
a!l-then l don't wonder he feels like
whistlin'," she thought. Its dread
full good to hear him againr'
The little attic was swept and pol.
ished and decorated with the treasures
from the florists. Scarecrow got up
at the first ray of daylight to do 1t.
And he set out his little feast on the
fitting old table. Over the one little
window he nailed a gigantic w that
he had fashioned patiently out of
shreds Of green. 1t was crooked and
queer, but 1t was w. and it began
the word welcome. He would explain
she would understand.
II wish / could remember de way
de other letters went" he thought,
standing off and cycling the solitary
letter wistfully; 'but I'll tell her wot it
STAINS fer, an how she's welcome
home again. and when she comes in
de door I'll set up an whistle. loud.
Dat'll be de singin'".
1t was midway In the duh wet morn
ing when the mother of little Scare
crow came home. Sore hearted and
hopeless, with the brand of shame on
her forehead. she dragged listlessly up
the stairs, flight after fight. She had
been good" over on the Island, but
now
81 sayw
1t was Scarecrow on the upper land
ing, nodding cheerfully. His little
brown, lean, hungry face was elate
with pride.
''Yer come along in an look, will
yer!' he cried, exultantly. hurrying her
before him. "It STAINS fer Welcome
see?-it's de first letter. 1 couldn't
spell de rest. An de flowers an vines
an de vittles-dey all STAINS fer wei
GOMEZ"
Then the boys lips pursed into a
whistle, and the whole decorated little
attic was filed with shrill music.
A moment the mother gazed-for a
moment she listened Incompetence
ing1y. Then. with understanding,
arose something sweet and warm in
her calloused breast, and she caught
little whistling Scarecrow in her arms.
The music stopped when she kissed
him. He could never remember to
have been kissed before, and he'proph-
esy of better things was in the strange,
warm touch on his lips. The faith of
ii little child and the love of a mother
were born then, and the squalid lit
tie attic blossomed into a home 1t
would be easier to "be good" after
that.-The Interior.
Cat That Kills Snakes.
Miss Ruby Fleming, daughter Of Mr..