The Grit-advocate., 1902-12-19
MISER JOHNS THANKSGIVING
Copyright, 1902, by Daily Story Pub Coy
By ERNEST McGAFFEY.

John Hall sat at the north end of
his granary and looked out over the
bare. brown fields. A hawk shifted
his flight over a distant Usage orange
hedge. and puffs of wind lifted the
dust on the road which stretched
away to the town that lay beyond.
The weathercock on the barn roof
swayed and turned and the windmill
creaked drearily as the breezes
passed over. The sky was leaden
gray, and in the fields the corn stood
In shocks into which the rabbits
twisted their way and ate of the corn
there. To the north lay the prairie;
to the south the timber line stood
black and menacing.
Hall was man of thirty-five, tall,
strong and burned to a dull brown
by wind and sun. His farm was a
good one. the house comfortable and
roomy Rumor had it that he was
going to bring wife there when he
first bought Johnstons place, ten
years before. But the years had
slipped by; John Hall had grown
older and sterner. and still there was
no woman at. the door of the house
on the hill. He had worked hard and
prospered. His farm was model
Tor neatness and order. He was in
ventive. energetic and Industrious.
Except for a hired hand there was
neither chick nor child on his farm.
He lived by himself and kept by him
seif, and the neighbors seldom found
him more communicative than was
necessary for the ordinary salutations
Of the road.
Gossip found 1t easy to dilate on
his steadily increasing store of the
worlds goods, and because he spent
30 little of the money which he made
the people round him called him
"Miser John" He attended none of
the dances. barn-raisings, corn-shuck.
Ing bees or any other of the country
festivities, but remained on his place
working regularly during the time the
other farmers worked and tinkering
at his machinery and mending fences
at odd times.
He stroked his brown beard re-
fiectively as he sat at the granary
DOOR -ahi rose to, his feet as his hired
hand called from the house. 1t was
Thanksgiving week and he had been
thinking rather gloomily of the ap-
preaching holiday. For it was on a
Thanksgiving day that he had come
to the farm.
Reckon I'll go home Thanksgivin',"
a q u,n
the back porch. Got letter from
Nam, an she lowed all the folks was
expected, an I'm elected to come
along"
"All right" replied John Hall as he
drew his chair to the table and pre-
pared to eat his breakfast.
Got a letter for you," said the
hand. whose name had been simpli-
aed to "Hick'ry Bill" as he handed a
blue envelope over to his employer.
Hall took the letter mechanically
and thrust it into his pocket without
Il word.
Didn't take no more notice Of it an |
II 1t was shoestring." as Hick'ry
Bill afterwards remarked.
After the meal the hand went
down into the creek bottom for load
of wood and Hall accompanied him
without reading or referring to the
letter in his pocket. But he had
recognized. or believed he recognized
the handwriting. and the letter burned
in his coat like ball of fire.
what did it mean. what did it
mean?" he kept thinking over and
over to himself as he swung the
heavy ak in the timber. But the
mans habitual self-control and pride
stood him so well in stead that the
easy-going hired man forgot about the
letter and busted himself with the
work in hand. That night when the
comforters were folded around
Hick'ry Bill and that gentleman was
moored in the harbor Of dreams. John
Hall drew out his letter and turned