Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1905-11-30
Old JOyce'S Thanksgiving .

scarlet geranlums blooming IN II,
planning the most important part OF
her dinner-the guests. The door
suddenly opened, and Rod Herrick's
red hair and blue eyes came in with
a food of sunshine. Of course all OF
Rod came in but she was concious
only of that red heap and blue eyes,
both were SO vivid. Rod was Bar
tons grocery boy, and the most mis-
chievous inhabitant of the village.
Some people wondered noisily why
Barton kept him but Barton knew
Rod was faithful to the minutest de-
tail of the grocer's interests, and
played no pranks among the soap
boxes and -four barrels. He meant
to own a part of the concern some
day, and therefore had too much re-
spect for the business to neglect it.
Rod knew a great deal about the peo-
pie of Staunton, too; perhaps because
he saw them almost always at their
back doors, which are the places to
know people as they really are.
Miss Bascom looked up and nodded
pleasantly she watched him set the
basket upon the table and wait for
her to take the contents to her pan
try, so that he could have the basket
for another errand, but she sat still
and said: Il am planning company
for Thanksgiving, Rod, and find it
hard to make up my mind. You
know l don't want the same folks ev-
cry year, and have no relatives.
Rods eyes twinkled. Il know
first rate subject" he replied prompt
ly, "a party that didn't order thing
for thanksgiving except pot Of mar
malade, and never has since I've been
taking baskets for Barton, and I'm
15I"
Miss Bascom laughed as she arose
to carry the parcels out. "Write the
address on an envelope; maybe I'll
send it ; I'd like to do some good
with my dinner for the sake of the
day"
Left alone, Rod sat down at the
table, and taking up the pen, wrote:
OLD JOYCE,
AT THE BOOT AND SE0E.
People in Staunton had once said
"boot and shoe shop" but long since
had abbreviated il to its present
briefer form.
Rod took the empty basket and
hurried out before Miss Bsscom
could see what be had written.
She colored angrily Old Joyce,
indeed That queer Englishman
whom everybody considered half
crazy who sat day by day in abso-
Lutte silence, mending the village boots !
and shoes, or taking walks that !
would have exhausted some of the
old horses of the town. He would |
often get up at FIVE in the morning
and walk seven or eight miles in the
country before he opened his shop.
Milkmen and hucksters had seen him
tearing along the roads, his head |
thrown back, gazing at the sunrise or
the early morning fields or cloudy
skies as though they were a mystery
that no man had ever fathomed,
which was true indeed.
The next morning Rod Herrick,
running in the tracks of the postman,
hampered somewhat by three turkeys
and two pumpkins that reposed in the
great basket on his arm, peeped into
the window of the Boot and Shoe.
There sat Old Joyce, great boot
half.mended upon the last in front of
him, staring with all the power of his
spectacles at pink envelope which
the postman had thrust upon him.
Rod was no less astonished he
whistled softly. He hadn't supposed
that she would really do it; his
mother had received just such pink
note for them both the night before,
too. So, she had invited them to
meet Joyce, or Joyce to meet them,
he couldn't say which But would
the old man go? He wondered what
the note said the Herricks would be
there, no doubt about that, for Rod
seldom had an opportunity to taste
the fat turkeys that he left at Staun-
ton kitchen doors. His mother sewed
almost as lndustriously as he walked