Middletown transcript., 1906-08-18

hat from the rack and bis cane
from its NOOK nearby and out he
vent into the world. slamming
aye, slammingLthe door behind
him.
His wrath, slow 10 heat, was
slow to cool.
Mrs. Trenche was taking her
afternoon sleep, and the echo Of
grandfather's petnlant exit did
not arouse her. Unnoted he
passed down the Steps and TO the
street, his hat stancl1ly pressed
upon his white locks. IN one hand
his cane, in the other hisr ban
danna bundle, and in his heart
defiance.
He hesitated an instant, and
gazed to right and left, butneyer
a backward glance did he bestow
upon the shnttered house.
III go TO Sam Cunningham's he
determined. Sam II recollect how
I lent his father that money with
out asking any security, and he'll
take me in. | sha'n't be any
charge on him-I'm not to old to
be of use. There's lots OF things
I can do-odd jobs round the
place. He'll see I'm a famous
hand at tinkerin'. My sweetie
bird will tell him that; and I'll
have her tell him | mustn't be
interfered withpoor sweetie
bird! he added, love yelling
through his resentment as sud
denly he bethought that, in fact,
he would have no "sweetie bird
about to speak for him.
The Cunningham place, upon
which grandfather had fixed as
his asylum, was some two miles
ou tside the village. He had not
seen it IN haf a decade, for his
walks, short at the most, had
been confined to the immediate
neighborhood, and the few drives
which he had been given had
been dong other roads.
Although the almanac an
nounced May, the sun was of
July, and beat fiercely upon him
as he trudged bravely up the
level street. The thoroughfaHe
was quite deserted, but occasion
ally from windows here and there
curious eyes marked him hurry.
ing past, and wondered.
Not only was the sun hot, but
his haste and excitement made
him scant of breath; and several
times, before he had traversed
the three blocks lying between
! the house and the village out
skirts, he had been fain to stop
in the shade of a tree and mop
his brow either with his linen
handkerchief or with an end of
his bandanna.
Now, at last, he had reached the
spot where sidewalk ceased, and
a path, bordering fair pasture
lands, ensued. 1t seemed to
grandfather that he had come to
his rubicon; beyond these village
limits there was no turning back.
And pursing his withered lips
tightly together, he stepped over.
Ahead; not far, awaited a hill
to be climbed. At its foot he
paused a moment, while bodily
fatigue and tenacity of purpose
struggled for supremacy. The
latter prevailed. and valiaptly he
started to toll up the ascent. TIL
was cruel test, and halfway be
was, glad to totter aside and sit
down heavily under an oak.
+ He laid his cane and bundle and
hat on the ground, and wiped his
brow, and painted. He was so
exhausted thai he was shaking |
in every muscle.
Utterly weak as he was, ne felt
very fretful and ill-used.
It's hard. he complained, en-,
deavoring to catch his breath; |
Us mighty hard for an old man
like me to have to look for u home,
ind begin over again. It'll all
come back to my sweetie bird,
sometime. I'm 'fraid.
A great rush of helplessness
assailed him; almost almost he
wished that be were again inthose
quarters which he had just re-
pudiated.
I'm liable 10 get sunstruck, he
auayered, aecusingly. I'm beat
put already, and I amt more'n a
quarter there. They ought to
have known better'n to let me
start.
While grandfather was thus
sitting here by the roadside, and
naundering on IN his querulous
fashion. a carriage appeared on
tI,o fs,.acf of tho hill aranPoo ol,e,S1