The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1905-05-23
CHAPTER /.
now Thomas Dexter Made His Money

n 49,
a. W hers Little ake-Believe
&SGSg5llsss0k@M He was a crooked, ugly
poek-marked little man; she crooked
ugly, pock-marked little girl. He wal
a general dealer; so was she.
His shop was situated in the heart o.
Glare Market. which some people witt
fastidious notions call Lincoln's I'M
Fields.
The persons thus fastidiously in
clined and who thus, metaphorically
turn up their noses at Glare Market
are jewellers therein, and being gen
teelly inclined to wish to disguise thu
TACT, resembling in this respect Other
persons higher in the social scale who
reside in Bayswater and call it Hyde
Park, to the confusion of the simple
minded cabmen Gf any such exist and
nnsuspicious friends from the country.
Thomas Dexter gave himself no such
airs. Glare Market was good enough
for him, and his ambition, in a residen.
tial way, did not extend beyond it.
Thirty three years had passed over
his head since, with his own hands, he
painted on his shop windows the
words, Dexter, General Dealer" there
not being room for Thomas
Time and dust had eaten into this
sign and quite obliterated it, as in due
course they would eat into Thomas
Dexter and quite obliterate him.
When the painted letters of the le-
gend on his shop windows were fresh
and bright Thomas Dexter, also fresh
and, bright, commenced business with
exactly E14 in gold, which he found, on
the evening of his fathers funeral, tied
up in an old nightcap, in hard lump
close to the tassel.
He had come home sad of face and
at heart from the churchyard in which
his old friend and relative lay buried.
He was not given to sentiment, but
be and his father had been comrades
for many long year, and it was nat
ural that he should feel melancholy in
his loneliness.
There was another reason for sad
heartedness; he had spent his last shil-
ling on his fathers funeral.
Tom his father had said to him in
his dying moments, there's something
weighing on my mind"
"Out with it, father" said Thomas
Dexter, ''if it'll ease yer"
Il was born in this here neighbor-
hood" continued the old man, "and so
was you, my boy. Lord, don't re-
member the night yOu come into the
world And now I'm a-going out of it.
It was Saturday night, and was two
mile away with my barrier in Totem
ham Court road. where / had a pitch.
The old woman was with me, looking
Rrter the tin, and she sed to me about
10 O'Clock: Father sed she, I feel a
bit queerish; think I'd best go home
All right, old girl sed I, 'trot of; I'll
manage without yer. Don't worry
about me- she sed, smiling at me as
she walked away; it's only spasm.
THAT was you, Tom you was the
spasm. 1t was past - afore / got
home, and / no sooner put my head in
at the door than ] knew / was father
In real earnest, for you salooted me
with a squall which you kept up, on
and off, for matter of three months,
/ should say. You and the old woman
was laying on this very bed, in this
very room. It's rum to think on, amt
it? It was sharp work, but your
mother was sharp at anythink she set
her mind on. She'd hardly time to
throw herself ON the bed afore you
was born. The room was dark, toe
Utmost as dark as it is now
why, father" said Thomas Dexter,
''it's broad daylight and the SUMS
a-shining right into the winderl"
You'll allow me to know" muir
INJURED the old man, with a fretful sigh,
II can see when it's dark and when it's
light. / amt dead yet, my boy. Tom
I've sort Of notion that I'm wander
ing. Where was l, my boy2''
'In this room, where mother was
confined"
'No--afore thatl Where was afore
] come home that night?,
"In Tottenham Court road, with the
barren
mo, no, mol Afore thatl Give coy,
leg up. What was ! saying fust Of
allY'
That you was born in this here
neighborhood."
That's it--that's what's weighing on
my mindi ] was born in Glare Mar
ket, and there amt a man, woman o.
child hereabouts as don't know me, and
as won't know presently that I'm .
dead 'un. Tom, shouldn't like to b.
taken out OF the workshop in a shabby
sort Of way. Don't shove me undel
the turf as il was pauper. Do i
in style, old pal, and bury me will
featherss
The thing was done. The old maj
was buried with feathers, and Thomal
Dexter experienced a solemn satisfac
tion as be gazed at the sable plumes
emblems Of triumphant woe, which
nodded at him in approval Of his duti
full regard to his fathers last wish.
In the evening he looked over the Of,
mans clothes to decide which to keel
for personal wear and which TO dis
pose Of for a new start in life. Unde
the mattress was his fathers nightcaf
which, AS be moved the bed, fell with
thud upon the floor. Picking it Vi
quickly aud loosening the knot with hi
teeth, fourteen pieces Of bright gol
came into view; also paper, upol
which was written;
s.For my boy, Tom. If he's burIe
me with feathers, they'll bring hif