Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1902-12-27

49, % %II%- - "a
scarborough.
Old Mrs. Dorkins wiped her wet,
soapy hands on her checked gingham
apron, and got the blue pitcher from
The shelf upon which it was sitting.
"He amt enite sure" she answered;
he wants to come, he says, but seems
like something always happens at the
very last minute TO keep him."
II see you're fzin' for him, anyhow.
What's them-mAace pies?"
"Oh, yes, / fix for him every year. !
wouldn't like him to come an not find
everything ready. / don't give him up
till / have to. Them's mince pies, an
these are dried-apple pies. Come
here She opened the pantry door
and beekoned him in. 81 don't s'pose
you know what these are" she said,
with d smile half deprecating, half sad,
lifting a cloth from the bread-board.
lie peeped over her shoulder. Gee
whuts!" he cried, explosively. You
don't mean to say I've got to have
one O them, Gran'ma Dorkins, sure's
my names Homer Fox! Horse gin
ger-cakes, by crackyl The very kind
you used to make when me an Tom
| an Susy went to school to Aunt Lid
dy J%ackson!"
Grandma Dorkins laughed, and
wrapped him up three Of the big
brown cakes cut into some semblaDce
Of a horse with her pie-knife. "There's
one for you. one for Susy, an one for
III JEFF. Tell Susy / sent 'em to re-
mind her of old times. You an she
were sweethearts even when you US d
to scuffie with Tom for a piece OF LIS
ginger-cake."
"Tom's dom middlin' well amt he,
grammar" Homer asked, making a
start to go, but holding onto the back
door as he waited for her reply.
Toms dom splendid" the old WON
an said, proudly. Hes way up in the
railroad business now"
'It's near on ten years since he was
home, amt it?"
"Nine years this Christmas she
! corrected him. He's been intendin'
to come for so long; but he's awfully
busy, Tom is. With so much response
bility he can't hardly ever leave"
TOOK his wife to Europe last year,
didn't hep"
Eyes. They was gone three months.
He wrote to me after they got back,
ar said he thought for sure he was
goin' to get UP that year, but now he
couldn't. I was real disappointed, for
I'd been most certain I'd have himhere
last Christmas"
"It's likely he'll come this season"
Homer remarked, by way Of comfort.
Don't you know, I'm sort o'positive
he will" grandma said, Frightening.
give been disappointed often enough
before, but this time it's different
him not bein' home for so long-an' l
wrote him I hadn't been well lately.
Ny rheumatic bothers me dreadful
this winter. Putin it altogether,
Homer, Tn bound Toms comm this
time"
Homer hitched at his faded over
ais, shut the door and then opened
It a crack. He couldn't find a word to
say.
Old Mrs. Dorkins laughed softly as
she wiped off the kitchen table. Don't
YOU ever tell, Homer; but I've baked
horse ginger-cakes every year for
Toms home-oomin', an then had to
send 'em to the orphan asylum over at
WaIlingford. Now, this year l cal
e1ate Toms goin' to eat EN- himself"
"It's only we days till Christmas
Homer said, slowly. You ought to be
hearin' from him whether he's comm
Pm goin' to the post office. I'll see if
| there's a letter for you"
no, Homer, don't" grandma said,
hastily. "rd rather not have it till
the last thing. If he shouldn't be com
IN I won't have anything to look for
ard to. an if he is, my cakes an pies
are all baked. All I've got to do now
is TO shine the andirons over in the
.ettin'room, an put up some greens
to make il seem ChriStmassy. 1
wouldn't have the heart TO finish, Ho-
ner, il ! knew he wasn't comm" she
was still smiling, but TREMENDOUSLY.
"All right, gran'ma," he said, with
a great effect of c%heeriness in his
soice; "but I'm like you, I'm positive
Toms comm"
Eyes, I'm most IT. we'll see him
this time; but if there's a letter, Ho-
mer, don't bring it. Peter Crump al
ways brings it up TO me as he goes
home on Christmas eve"
Homer climbed into his gathering
old spring-wagon, and with the lines
tapping loosely on the gray mares
back he let her take her own gait down
the long street.
Arriving at the post Office, he ex-
changed greetings with the few
loungers gathered around the stove,
sat down on a cracker-box, chewed
up a broom-straw, and gazed abstract
eddy at the dirty floor.
want your mail, Homer?" the post
master inquired, when there came a lull
in his duties.
Homer got up from the cracker-box
to receive his copy of the Scarborough