Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1901-01-09
HARRYS CABINET.
BY MARJORIE BURNS.

tion as she glanced from the thick
packages, thin packages, and pack
ages of every size, shape and color
that strewed the grass at her feet to
the handsome boy, who had just tum-
bled them from his bulging pockets.
| Mae was the prettiest teacher that
ever Queened it in a country school
house, and she was idling away one
of the last sweet afternoons of sum
mer vacation in the apple orchard
when Harry Freare, her fellow-board
er at the brown farm house on top of
the breezy hill sought her with his
bulging pockets.
My exchanges" he explained, sur
veying the packages at Macs feet
with an air of proud possession.
You know my offer of exchange
came out in Golden Days a little
while ago-'Petrifed wood from the
Indian Territory for miscellaneous
curiosities.' A star-fish, sea-urchin,
piece Of the Atlantic cable" he
continued, keeping up running com
mentary as he unwrapped each pack
age. "And here's fun" he ex-
claimed, as he finished reading a let
ter. "a Boston boy wants me to get
him a tomahawk from some of the
| neighboring tribes of Indians, and to
tell him about some of the buffalo
hunts I've had. The idea of buffaloes
and Indians in Southeastern Kansas!
| haven't done with that boy yet"
he concluded, mysteriously, as he
went away to arrange his curiosities
In the empty cabinet, which was a
late birthday present, and the motive
Of his sudden craze for curiosities.
Left alone, Mae took up the zephyr
that was dancing into pink foam un-
der her swift fingers, and tried to
fix her attention on the volume of
Rossetti; but tears came thronging
to her eyes, and at last she gave up
all attempts at self-control, and bow
ing her golden head on her folded
arms, sobbed unrestrainedly.
A single word is sometimes the
key that unlocks whole world of
recollections, and Boston" had been
that word for Mae.
The past came surging back upon
her-the golden past of two years
ago, when she was one of the hap
piest girls in Boston, with a brother
in whom she, at least, could see no
fault, and lover whom all the world
agreed in calling as manly and honor
able a fellow as ever lived.
Then the crash came. John Thorn
dyke had speculated with his en-
ployer's money, lost it. and on the
eve Of exposure had cut the dark
knot of impending fate and his own
thread of life at one stroke.
1t was only one more item in the
lengthening list of crime and suicide,
but it changed the face of the world
for Mae.
She slipped away, severing all con-
nection with her old life; and for
two years had been teaching little
prairie-school, near which an old
nurse of hers lived, at whose home
she boarded.
Dear old Phil. with his heart of
gold, | am so glad he was travelling
in Egypt when | went away, for |
know he wouldn't have given me up
away from him; but / love him too
much to stain his name with my
brothers disgrace, and he shall never
know where | am hiding" she said
to herself, with loving resolution, as
the storm of sobs abated.
"Is that boy gettin crazy, l won
der? said Mrs. Dean, taking an ap-
petizing peach-tart out of the oven
one Saturday morning, and looking
from the open window at Harry
Freare, who lay on the grass-plot
reading letter, and bubbling over
with suppressed merriment. He
never seemed overly fond of writin'
till about a month ago, and now he's
always scribblin' and chucklin' away
to himself, and mumblin' a string O.
stuff about Injuns and buffalers, and
yalier-haired gals. Do you think his
brain can be a little mite teched ."
she inquired, anxiously, of Mae, who
was whisking a dozen eggs into the
airiest yellow froth.
Perhaps he has been writing a
story, and has just received a letter
of acceptance from the publisher"
laughed Mae, as wild, exultant yell
rang out, and Harry rolled OH the
grass in a paroxysm of mysterious
delight
"See here, now, sir, you've just got
to tell us all about this! Air you
crazy, or hev you got a fit, or hev
you been writin' story?" demanded
Mrs. Dean, swooping upon Harry,
and tugging him into the kitchen.
Its the greatest fun | ever had,
and I'd have told you and Miss Mae
all about it, only | was afraid you'd
want me to stop. You remember the
Boston boy who wap.ed me to get
him tomahawk?" queriod the mirth-
full culprit at the bar of justice, as
he faced Mae. We'll" he continued,
as she nodded, I've been writing
him the greatest string of stuff you
ever heard about the Indians and
bufaloes, and of course | had to have
a pretty girl in my yarn, so | took
| hi Lot 10