The Topeka state journal., 1909-03-12
The EVENING Story
Poor Old Uncle Ben.
(By Milo Holcroft.)

dDOuI On his 1OdQ ana gaZeQ at the
receding vehicle. 1t was she herself
and out riding with that young scamp!
She was enjoying the fellows COM
| pany, too, so much that she had only
| a slight bow for him.
She had never ridden with him, ex-
| cept once at a funeral, when she went
to the cemetery in his buggy, because
| there was not room for her elsewhere.
| He had imagined many times since
| the things he would have said to her
| during that ride if he had known be-
! forehand so as to be prepared; but he
had not, and the ride had been a silent
| one.
| She was bright and talkative with
| Joe, thought When he. recognized,
with a shock of surprise who Joe's
companion was, they were chatteriHg
He felt wronged, somehow; though
| he had no claim to be. But he had
always meant to marry her, if she
would consent, when he found courage
| to put the question.
He knew Joe was in the habit of
going to her brothers where she lived,
but until that minute he had not look
| ed upon the fellow as his rival. Joe
was young and good-looking and wo-
men thought so much of those things!
Uncle Ben wasn't an old uncle at
all. But he had come to think him.
self very venerable and aged indeed.
When person becomes an uncle be-
fore his manhood and when fate SO
shapes it that one must become not
ones nephews, the responsibility con-
duces to a feeling of old age, even
when the said nephews are not much
younger than ones self.
So Uncle Ben very naturally sup
posed there was no chance for him at
all with the woman whom he loved so
truly. He even decided that he would
sell his farm and go away. He brood
ed over it all day and with heavy pain,
forgetting to make his usual sharp
bargain in business.
AS he drove into the gate at home
toward evening, Joe's buggy again ap-
peared, and he drew UP for a chat He
was in fine spirits, and boyisn1y hand
some, beside Uncle Ben's rough, farm
clothes and soiled boots.
"Guess I'll take that COW, Uncle
Ben" he said, with a conscious smile.
II expect to need her.
Uncle Ben grunted and busted him
seld with the gate
You see. I'm-oh, might as well
say 1t right out--I'm going to be mar
ried pretty soon.'
settled is it?" His face glanced up
sharply, his face rather pale.
well. not quite" Joe hesitated,
fbut she understands me well enough
and it's going to settled tonight and
the day fixed. I'm invited there to
to expect. In fact, 1t nearly came out
this morning"
Uncle Ben said nothing, and after a
moment Joe, who was accustomed to
Ills ISllCoIlL TeIdCIV0, started OIL, say
ing: "Milly will be glad you are our
nearest neighbor; she thinks a lot of
you.'
Despite Uncle Ben's resignation, he
felt his gay and handsome nephew'S
carelessly confident words as if they
were SO many sharp, savage thrusts
from dagger. There came a hot, |
suffocating sense of shame and rage
into his heart that he should be thrust |
aside, unseen, unheard. ..s-.-5 =, .-t |
AS he stumbled along by his team /
to the barnyard he was seized with a /
great impulse to see her and sneak /
yet although 1t was useless.
He looked about vaguely at first, |
then with keen calculation. Joe was
still in sight. He had stopped to talk |
with someone, as was his social Gus
tom. He would not hurry, not dream
ing of need for it.
His team was tired and the other
horses in the pasture. If he would
forestall Joe he would have to go afoot |
across lots. And there was no time to
shave and garb himself as he would
have liked before going into her pres
ence.
He hitched his horses and started
Joe was still talking when he cleared
his own farm and the next. 1t was /
two miles, but he could cut off con-
siderable distance by going across lots.
and most of the way he could keep an
eye on Joe's progress.
Over the hill grove intervened.
AS he dashed into it he caught
4
distance, seeming to fly.
Then Uncle Ben flew too, or nearer
to it than he had ever imagined it
possible for him to go.
Through the grove, and Donner's
pasture scudded "old Uncle Ben By ]
that time Joe had nearly reached the
half-mile corner.
Old man Donner yelled to know the
of the wild flight. Uncle Ben
waved an impatient hand and sped on, 4
crossing the road, where he had a (
view of Joe's rig whirling around the
corner.
From the ridge, quarter of a mile
nearer his goal, he saw with satisfac-
ton that Joe had stopped, the center
Of goSsiping neighborS who always |
gathered at Donner's.
"All their questioning and scandal
zing will hinder him and help me-"
ne soliloquized breathless1y. dashing ;
on with renewed vigor.
The excitement Of the race obliter-
ated all other thought. ard lose my I
farm sooner than be beat" he de-
31ared, feeling a new, keen thrill in /
ife as his supple limbs took him over
he rough ground. f
Just to get there and say what he
had to say before Joe arrived was all ,
lis thought now. AS to how it should
De said, he was past thinking of that.
When he leaped the last fence Joe t
lad disappeared behind the hedge 4
hat fringed the home stretch. Old
Uncle Ben put on a last squirt. t
From the sheep pasture Mi1ly's t
ather hailed him. Uncle Ben did not
wen wave in reply. The hired man n
stared as he rushed past the barn !,
where they were choring.
He had no time to go around to the =,
ront. There was no time for knock 9
ng at doors or for formalities of any V
ort. Away down the road he could
zee Joe's hat advancing rapidly! n
He 1eaped the steps to the back t
porch and hurled himself into the
Zitchen. The fates favored him. She O
vas at the table mixing biscuits. Il
''Milly-will-you- he e
,anted, staggering against the wall