The Jennings daily record. [volume] (Jennings, La.) 1900-1903, 1902-06-06
Romance Of ! Box Of Tools.

kulSu6O M2A iOhAS oAAN
place .; business from the other mar
row fronted tenement houses in the
row.
While Mr. Hombach's shop on the
ground floor was full of odds and ends
suggesting his occupation, books,
newspapers and certain OF the maya
zines indicated that the man of the
glue pot and hammer was man of
some mental culture.
Mr.. Hombach's appearance was lit
tie startling. His thick, bushy black
hair, and the CLEAN in his eyes i'm
pressed one with associations of high
tragedy, which feeling would be height
ened if he CHANGED to be talking about
anything that particularly interested
him.
Evidently the magnetic influence of
Mr.. HON bach was considerable; many
were the friends and admirers that
called to see him in order to hear his
views" on the questions of the day
In summer time the talk was carried
on at the front door steps; but dur
ing the cold weather the little meetings
took place in the workroom, where Mr..
Hombach's ringing voice not unfre-
quently kept the tenants of the house,
as we'll as those in the houses adjoin-
ing, awake until midnight.
Of course Mr. Hombach was a NUS
ance, but his neighbors bore with him
on account CT the little boy whom he
had adopted. Max must have a good
heart" They reasoned, Ito take in
straI. sc enid and be so kind to him.
10 nlnb IL hoc "a
waf OF a steamboat disaster of some
ten years ago. Max, then about thirty
years of age, had been one of the pas
sengers. In the panic a baby was
handed him to save. The mother new
er reached shore. Failing to find any
relatives for the child, the man, who
had no relatives OF his own, concluded
10 keep IL.
AT present Mr. Hombach was at work
menoing a broken table. The fierce
frown on lis forehead indicated that
he was also occupied with some mental
problem. When presently he heard
the sound OF light footsteps in the hall
the frown disappeared.
The boy was coming home from
school. He stopped u few moments TO
talk 70 a woman in the entry; then
he came into the workroom with his
customary "Hillo father" adding: Miss
Elizabeth Bradley wants the loan of
your chIsel. May / take il up to her
now"
Ny. Hombach started as if he had
been struck, his countenance changing
with the quickuess of lightning AL
though generous TO a fault, in prin-
ciple as well as in practice, he had
drawn the line of generosity and
neigh borness at his tool box, the con-
tents of which We're almost sacred in
his eyes.
Lend my chisel-to a woman, A
woman! AS if woman could touch
tool without spelling it! My gracious,
Randolph, do you think l am mad?"
Haven't you an old cbisel some
where. father?" asked the boy, with d
serenity of manner that was in strik-
ing contrast to the fiery one of Mr..
Hombach. Il don't like to tell Miss
Elizabeth that you won't lend her a
tool because she's woman. She cant
help that"
Mr.. Hombach threw back his bushy
head, while smile that ne tried to
hide shot out of his eyes. His thoughts
and emotions moved quickly. Nervous
and tempestuous in manner himself
OF all things he admired calmuess in
others. Randolph s quiet dignity quite
delighted him.
The boy is a diplomat" he thought
TO himself. What cool head, Doesn't
lose confidence! A Bismarck, A Glad
stone! All, some day he Will sit with
the great men of the world" Mr.. HON.
bach was very proud of his adopted
son, and moreover he was something
of dreamer We'll, l guess you may
take that chisel to Miss Bradley" he
said presently, and began to work
Miss Elizabeth Bradley, who was a
-dressmaker in a small way, lived i'll
the back wing of the second floor of the
house. She might have been 30 or 30.
she did not look old but was still not
what would be called "a young lady"
Randolph felt that he would not have
liked her so well if that title had fitted
her exactly.
Thank you she said, admitting the
little Bismarck into her apartment She
was not dressmaking at present, but
trying with some ill-assorted tools to
AXE a cabinet out of grocery box
The boy looked on the work with in
terest, and the two began chatting.
Perhaps few things in Miss Bradley's
monotonous life gave her so much
pleasure as listening to Randolph talk
about the discussions that We're carried
on nightly downstairs. He was still
so small and childish-looking that the
fluent phrases he repeated so glibly
sayored RI her of "crteneSS She liked