The citizen. (Honesdale, Pa.) 1908-1914, 1909-09-01
One Hundred to One


after the long months of privatioa to
wlich he had subjected himself to &C.
cumulate that magic sum.
Since the first day he went to work
the idea Of actually owning $100 had
been uppcrmost in his mind. He had
allowed no avenue of possible saving
to escape; long tramps to and from
business, scanty lunches, thin clothes
all had been borne cheerfully while
the meagre bank account had crept
dollar by dollar to the 100 mark.
John was the eldest son of poor par.
ents. Desperately poor were they,
but what there had been to give, Mr.
ard Mrs. Atwood had given freely to
their children.
But now John felt independent of
home charity He meant to make
stand for himself in the world with
his little all. Among the boys in the
village he was the most popular, and
the older folk had learned to listen
for the gay whistle of the small, white
faced lad who trudged over the weary
miles between his home and his office
every morning scarcely before light
1t was an early spring day when
the village doctor chanced to meet
John on his way home from work The
practised eyes OF the physician noted
the blue pallor OF the lads face and
the wan look about the mouth. But
John waved aside his solicitations and
declared himself w"ll and happy, SO
perfect was his inward c0ntc... But
the doctor knew better, and so Il day
or two after, when he was hastily
summoned to the boys bedside, he
was not surprised
That week John came down with
typhoid fever. y nurse was engaged,
and long siege of sickness wrapped
the small home in gloom.
1t was we'll into the summer before
John was able to be pronounced out
of danger. The late July sun came
in at the window over the thin body
of the little boy as he sat up in
ragged chair, covered with still more
ragged shawl
The nurse had left the day before,
and the doctor only looked in now and
then to see how things were getting
on. But into Johns life these two
beings had introduced a terrible trag-
edy. For their care of him his small
fortune had got to pay. NO one knew
of it's existence but himself, but he
felt the inevitable sacrifice that was
to be his to make for his mother and
father and their little home.
That night John heard his parents
talking over the prospect of that debt
and planning to let go the small equi-
ty they had in their little home-glad
to do this now that their sons life
had been saved And all that night
the battle of self-sacrifice waged hot
in Johns boyish breast. The $100
laid up safely in the bank had been
golden inspiration to the lad, but he
knew long before morning dawned
that his duty lay straight before him
and he meant to accept it.
He got up feeling weak and i'll. His
mother, humming about her toll, cross
ed over to his chair and bent down
to kiss the white face with tender
solcitude that had never been found
wanting all during the years of her
sons life. And at the caressing touch
of those dear lips John suddenly threw
his arms about his mothers neck and
told her the story of his treasure and
what he meant to do.
The light broke like sunshine over
that wan face and she wrapped John
in glad embrace. telling him how
much 1t meant to both his parents for
t0 Joh IL
saving of their home. in which to
foster the little ones growing up, and
1t meant, too, burden of care lifted
from the poor. invalid father, whose
daily toll amounted to so little in the
financial need.
All that day John heard his moth.
er's happy song from the kitchen. In
her great unselfist heart she never
thought but that her boy took pleasure
in meeting this debt with his savings,
and as John listened, the tears sweled
up in his eyes and rolled slowly down
his cheeks.
But Sound outside suddenly
caught his attention-the shouts of
his playmates, who had assembled un-
der his window, and were cheering at
sight of him. There were % less than
30 boys in the group, who tossed up
their caps and called to him.
John leaned over and waved mis-
hand in token of greeting.
A silence followed. a silence that
surprised John not a little, for his
friends were at all times noisily good
natured, And then he heard a step
on the stair. IT, was not his mothers
step, nor the tread of any of his small
sisters and brothers, for his ears had
become accustomed to their football
He watched the door with anticipa-
tion as it slowly opened. One of the
boys who had called to him from the
street shuffled clumsily into the room
John smiled feebly-he was too near
to tears to trust himself to speak
and the visitor was i'll at ease, and
only grunted a word of response to
Johns smile, until again outside that
chaar nrOea from tho hoviSh oSCau,