The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1908-12-12
BILLY's BOARDERs.

BILLY'S B0ARDERS.
Billy Allen sat on the chopping-
block, whiting dejectedly. He had
been listening to conversation be-
tween his father and mother, and it
was quite evident that things were
"going to the dogs" The crops had
failed miserably, the interest on the
mortgage would be due in two months,
and even with the money that his
sister Emma earned in the corn can
nery could not be met by fifty dol
lars.
But what had hurt Billy worst of
all had been his mothers final re-
mark; the pathos had been in her
voice perhaps more than in the words
themselves.
''It's pretty place, she had said,
turning away; and Billy knew that
meant they would have to leave the
old, rocky, hillside farm, which, after
all, they loved.
He was summoned to carry the
daily can of milk to his Aunt Sue,
and having harnessed the horse, he
drove off on his errand, still frowning
and melancholy with unproductive
thought.
His aunt lived a mile and a half
away, in the middle of Pembridge
village. To Billy, whose own home
at the foot of mountain and behind
a forest was remote, the village was
a highly interesting place and in
summer the most interesting thing in
it was his aunt house, for she ''took
in" boarders. At the evening hour,
when Billy arrived with the milk,
these well-dressed city people would
usually be sitting on the piazza or
under the trees, or perhaps playing
croquet on Mrs. Snyder's bit of lawn.
On this evening Billy looked at
them wistfully. They seemed to him
so inhumanly free from all the cares
and worries Of the world.
He carried the milk into the kitchen.
His aunt was on the back porch, turn
ing the crank of an ice cream freezer.
"Billy," she said, "have you FIVE
minutes to spare? Turn this while,
and I'll give you some of the ice
cream"
Billy took his aunt's place, remark
ing his time was not valuable.
"They're going to have party
tonight" she explained, pouring the
milk into her pans. "It makes lots
of extra work, but land they pay.
1 don't complain"
"How did you get 'em, Aunt Sue?"
Billy asked, languidly.
Advertised. Can't get anything
without advertising, nowadays"
"They have to have croquet and
hammocks and ice. cream, don't they,
Aunt Sue? :"
"My folks do. My sakes, they
want the earth But there's always
a profit on it if you manage right, "
she added, cheerfully.
On the way home Billy's thoughts
centered upon summer boarders. If
there were only some way of per-
suading them to come to his mothers
house There were two spare rooms,
decently furnished and everyone said
bis mother was "natural-b born
cook. But what attractions could he
offer in place of such impossible luxu
ries as his aunt was able to afford? !?
Nothing except the great, overtower-
ing mountain, with its trout brooks
and its one traditional bear-which
many professed to have seen and at
which few had shot.
When Billy reached home, he said
to his mother:
eff you had boarders, mother, how
much would you charge them 7"
"That depends" she answered,
without much interest. "Aunt Sue
gets from seven to ten dollars week.
If folks would put up with what we
could give them, I'd be glad to get
five dollars. With the garden-truck
l could save half of that.
"Would you like to take boarders,
mother?"
The boy tried to make his question
seem as casual as possible.
would be glad of a fortune !"
she answered.
"Billy did not wish to rouse his
mothers hopes. He determined to
proceed on his own responsibility.
By picking blackberries, which he
sold to his aunt, he earned enough
money to insert one advertisement in
a Boston newspaper. Then he cast
his bait out into the great, rich world,
and waited anxiously for a nibble.
On the second day after Billy had
taken this step, two clerks in Bos-
ton dry-goods store sat down to sup
per in their boarding house and spread
out newspaper between them.
"Look here, Dalton, how's this"
said one of them, pointing with his
finger at an advertisement, which ran
as follows
BoARDERS WANTED. Farmhouse
on Little Hawk Mountain. Fine
scenery, trout brooks, swimming in
the lake, maybe shot at bear. No
hammocks or croquet, and just plain
country living, but mothers first
rate cook. Five dollars week.-W.
ALLEN, Pembridge, Maine.
Dalton broke out laughing. Isn't
that delicious? He calls his wife
mother 7 I vote we go there"
cit looks like what we want" said
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