Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-01-06

about and observe. And already he was be-
ginning to enjoy the freedom.
| hungry he echoed, a little incredu-
i lousy. "a big bright boy like you? Why,
could find jobs enough in an hour to
| provide half dozen meals. But perhaps
you are from theseountry," observing him
| more closely, and are not used to our
| city ways. Maybe you have run away
| from good home
| The boy seemed startled, and for the first
| time glanced about as if to escape
Yes; I'm from the country he admitted
| at last sullenly, and I've only been here
| ten days. 1 had four dollars, and after
| that went tried to get jobs, but the boys
| pushed me off the sidewalk and hooted and
! called me names. But / didn't have a
! good home-at least" correcting himself,
| Il didn't think 1 had They worked me
! too hard, and wouldn't let me go to school.
Maybe If l should go back now. though,
| 1t would seem better" a sudden quaver of
| inconsistencies coming into his voice in spite
| of himself. There don't seem much chance
| of getting on in the-city."
He put out his hands as If to grasp some
! thing for support, and began to reel slight
| ly. The banker stared at him moment,
| and then caught his arm.
Look here. boy!" he exclaimed hastily,
| you are not merely hungry. you are starry
| But come along! There's a restaurant
across the street"
AS soon as they were seated the banker
motioned imperiously for a waiter.
|
| ordered, and plenty of it. Don't keep US
! waiting. No, nothing for me-
| There was morning paper on a chair be-
| side him, and, picking this up, he began to
! read, CHANGING approvingly at the boy from
| time to time he saw the food disappear.
/ When there were signs of tagging appe-
! tite he threw down the paper.
| Now tell me some thing about it." he said
| authoritativeiy. What made you run
| away"
| The boy looked embarrassed
! II was foolish he admitted candidly,
| but YOU see l wanted to be doing better,
| and there wasn't much chance on the farm.
/ 1t was work from light till dark month
| in and month out, and no schooling. But
/ the folks We're nice to me, and provided
! plenty of warm clothing and good food,
and in the evening they sometimes helped
/ me with my books. / had better stayed out
/ there and learned what 1 could till I was
! Older dejectedly. Il see it now. 1t was
/ enough sight better than the city"
The city doesn't offer much encourage
ment to young boys who have no expert
| ence.' acquiesced the banker. The folks
! you speak of are some kin, l SUPPOSE"
No. sir; only just live on the farm
| him speak of it so much that when ne
| died felt l must go there and get work.
1t would seem more home-like."
4 see; but there were no school advan-
! ;ages, and you wanted TO be getting ahead.
What made you think of coming to the
/ City?"
"I-er-my father had brother who came
20 the city and got pretty well off, hum
bly,, and l thought maybe l could do the
same. But l forgot he was older than me,
and-and smarter. l thought if 1 could get
well off, sudden eagerness coming into
his voice, I'd sometime so back and buy
the old farm and fix it up real nice"
~ very laudab!e ambition" commended
the banker. Then. with a pleased laugh
IT'S just what l am about to do myself
go back and buy my farm and accept the
descendants of my doodlebus friends as
tenants"
The boy looked puzzled.
1--WE played with doodlebugs," he said
doubtfully.
"Indeedw heartily then there is an
other link In our friendship. I am glad to
meet an acquaintance of so distinguished
a family" He glanced at his watch and
rose hastily.
Il must be going. My train leaves at
.. and l have some business TO transact
first. 1 suppose you Will go back to the
| f&rm?'