The Newark journal. (Newark, Ark.) 1901-1959, 1904-12-02

SHORTY.
BY h. ANNETTE POOLE.

10 the last degree as TO his clothes
and with the latest slang phrase
at his tongues end. And YET
Shorty had his good points. He
was scrupulously honest, and nc
one could be kinder hearted. he
was clean, or at least cleaner
than one might expect him to be,
and although the patches on knees
and elbows might vary startling
ly in color from the groundwork
of the garment they adorned, still
the patches were there in a ma
jority of the places where they
were needed. His red hair was
soft and wavy, and his blue eyes
looked the world squarely in the
face.
A boy who is thrust out into the
world as Shorty had been, to
snatch his living as best he may,
learns to be sharp and distrust-
full, and it is much to Shorty's
credit that he retained his hon
; esty intact, and even a remnant of
kindly feeling. Small blame to
him if he had snatched at every
penny, honestly or otherwise, and
had harbored a rooted distrust
of everybody and everything.
= AS to his living, he earned it by
selling papers on the train. The
day of neatly uniformed newsboys
had not yet dawned. AS to his
abode-well, nobody knew exact
ly where Shorty did live, that is,
nobody who came in contact with
him from day to day. In reality
he lived with his sister Johanna
mp ever so many flights of stairs,
where when Shorty ran up at his
top speed, whistling merrily, one
door after another would open, and
heads would be thrust out with
admonitions to stop that noise"
to which commands, it must be
confessed, Shorty paid very little
attention.
Once upstairs there were two
rooms one which served for kitch-
en-, dining-room and parlOr, and
a stuffy, closet-like place, where
Johanna slept. AS for Shorty,
he curled up at night on an old
lounge in the kitchen, seldom GO
ing through the formality of re-
moving anything more than his
shoes; in the winter it was warm
er, and in the summer it was con-
yenient.
Johanna used to say: al mis-
doubt me, Terry, but you'5re a
good deal of a pig" for Shorty's
name, as it stood on the baptismal
record of the church, was Terence
Muldoon. Life was rather hard
for Johanna Muldoon, for when
she climbed painfully upstairs she
clasped one knee in both hands,
and lifted her foot from step to
step, and when she went down, she
sat down and slid from one step
to another, so she went down as
seldom as possible. She made
buttonholes and sewed on buttons
on a cheap grade of clothing, but
work was not always plenty, and
she had many anxious hours.
Shorty, however, never wor-
ried; it was not in his nature. He
was always on hand with the
morning paper as the early train
pulled out Of the station. He used
to ride down to the next stopping
place, and come back on the first
train up, having regular custom
ers on them both.
The train ran through a pretty
stretch of country, with flower
gardens and apple orchards on
both sides, and the train hands
knew by sight all the people in the
different houses they passed. In
one. an old lady always sat at the
window with pleased, interested
face. In others little children
waved chubby hands. The engi-
neer and conductor bowed to peo-
pie daily for years, without know
ing their names. For a time the
governor of the state lived on the