The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, 1910-05-19
TOMMY WAS A MAN.
A True Story q Self Control Related
by a Chicago Merchant.


dent is told about little fellow
still in the knickerbocker stage, who
works for a large Chicago paper
house. One day he was called to
the telephone and after listening
minute turned pale and hung up
the receiver quietly and hurried to
the managers office. The manager,
however, had gone out to lunch, so
the boy left a note reading, 81 hav
to 90 hoam. Tommy Barret." :" The
manager found the note when he
returned, but soon became busy
with important matters and forgot
all about the boy.
Three days later. Monday morn
ing, Tommy Barret came back to
work. TO the other boys queries
of 'Ben sick, Tommy" he main.
tained a rigid silence. He worked
as hard as usual, and finally the
boys ceased to question him regard
ing his absence. Neither did they
insist again after his second re-
fusal to accompany them at nook
for the usual five cent lunch OF cof-
fee and bismarcks, having come to
the conclusion, as they expressed 1t.
that "Tommy had a crouch"
One day the manager was called
at noon to inspect a certain grade
of paper in the storeroom on the
top floor. As he and his foreman
wended their way through the huge
rolls of paper they heard the sound
of low sobs. Silently they peered
down the long aisles of paper rolls
and finally in the corner OF one
narrow one they saw the pathetic
figure of a little boy. The aisle be-
ing too tubelike for the portly form
of the manager, he bade the boy
come out.
It was Tommy Barret, his face
flaming with embarrassment, his
cheeks tear stained and dirty from
contact with the grimy little hands.
"Why, Tommy, what is tight
with one of the boys" questioned
the manager.
'No, sir" faltered Tommy, now
striving manfully to raise his voice
above the threatening sobs.
'Then what was it?" The man
ager laid his hand on the boys
head reassuringly. Tommy bit his
lip for composure, then, dry eyed,
answered firmly, "My mudder died
last week"
The manager turned away as the
chain of memory waited him back
to his own similar loss years ago,
when it took the united efforts of q
host of relatives and the entire
community of sympathizing small
country town to comfort him with
chocolate drops, '1ittle pies" and
miniature express wagons. And
here, he thought, was this little
chap working in silence and con-
trolling the misery of his heart until
he could steal away at noontime
and sob it all out alone among the
paper rolls.
"Have you come up here before
to cry?" the manager inquired
when he felt sure of his own voice.
'eYes, sir" Tommy answered tim
idly, adding apprehensively, y, "but
don't fire me, sir-I won't do it
again"
"Fire you~ the manager ejacu-
lated. "Well, I guess not, A boy
not as high as a yardstick, and
with mans self control" Tom
my looked up thankfully at this as
surance.
"Now run and wash your face,'
the manager continued kindly.
you're going to lunch with me at
9 o'clock"
An hour later Tommy, with face
glossy from recent battle with
pumice stone soap, was partaking
of a substantial lunch with his en-
ployer, who waxed cheerful, conf
Dental, even chummy, to put the
boy at his ease. As they finished
the dessert he nominated and elect
ed Tommy "boss" of the twenty
four boys at the envelope table, but
not the slightest reference was
made to the boys bereavement, for
the manager understood the fine
ness of Tommy's feelings and re-
spected them.-Chicago Tribune.