The Washington herald., 1913-07-13

Bank with the gilt legend, ivan Hsrt
& Donley," above the cornice, and be-
fore it the historic hitching-post with
the lead bullet implanted in the cop
perhead riot of '63-prosy and com.
monplace it might be, but how dear
and familiar was it all
Even Wiley T. Curran, the towns
insurgent, knew it, now that he was
back, bit gray about the temples after
years on the great highway beyond ths
everlasting hills.
Rube voiced tt: curious Call Of home
coming: ITS funny how sometimes WI
all want to get back. There was the
two Schnitzler boys and Morrison
'ain't he in the bank, now? And you
and me-once Hen McFetridge batted
fly clean up in the courthouse clock
and stopped it for six months-remem-
Der? And the night we was stealing
Tanners grapes, and you fell through
the arbor on the old woman, and they
pinched you-remember? What's Thad
Tanner doing now?"
Still running the county board
soaking us on bridge contracts"
Same little old boss, eh?" And
Boydston and Curry-still on the board
and putting Tanners work through"
Sure"
"And old Mowy, the undertaken,
still living across from the Widow
>Steger's and watching for the old lady
to die, eh?"
"Yes-still buying groceries of Dick
inson, the old lady's nephew, though
he hates him worse'n poison, because
he figures on getting the case when
she passes. Yes, sir-seven years now
Nowry has traded at Dickinson's wait
ing for the widow to pass, and every
week they expect her to 60, and she
hangs on"
Rube looked across at the widows
garden. its cannas and fre-bush bril-
liant in the dusk Suffering johnson,
don't anybody ever die here, Wiley?"
No. II they did the News would
have linotype, Rube, and be a daily !;
and the old town would have street
lights and sidewalks. Look at Earl
vile with its factories springing up,
and they way they're opening up the
soft coal streaks on the upper creek !!
Why We could have had all that if
people here had allowed the railroad
to come in! They chased away $5o.-
600 canning plant last spring because
they didn't want a factory class in
Rome. | came pretty near suspending
publication when | heard that"
What Rome needs is a few first
class funerals, Wiley"
You bet! prayed the editor fer
vently.
Wiley murmured Rube, you get
out the rottenest paper in Iowa, and
the old town it has no manner of use
for you, but | ike you. You amt bat
ting anywhere near 800. but you can
carry bats. I'm coming up to supper
tonight"
Sure thing, Ruber The editor
glanced to the back of his lot where
the cottage light was glowing. His
old housekeeper was always prepared
for guests, for to Mr.. Curran's table
came every unknown itinerant of the
road, shy farmers from the backwoods
bottoms of the north side of the coun-
ty. blacklisted railroad men from the
Chicago strikes, any one. in fact, who
had no welcome elsewhere.
The editor languidly snapped his
watch. The pressmen had long fin
ished with the paper: and although
the pettifogger's pleading still came
from the court room, the warm Sep
tember dusk chad fallen. Somewhere
up the bluff a cow was bawling, and
from the high-school campus came the
caroling of boys voices.
Courts late with that case" muir
INJURED Rube, "and amt that the judges
son come to drive him home now?"
A young man was getting out of
rather smart rig at the courthouse
He helped after him
girl in white, and though the evening
hid their faces, the frank and easy
banter of their parting made plain their
camaraderie. The girl tripped on to
store, and the young man sauntered
toward the News Office. Halfway
across his careless hail came to Wiley
Curran. Then his eye wxnt to Rube.
He feaped the tarwood gutter and
grasped his uncle's hand.
why, Rubel" he cried, in his rare
friendliness PUT her thereI Wiley
and / saw in the Tribune about that
triple you and Kelly and Schmitz put
over in that last game with Peoria
some class. Rubep
Rube grinned appreciation Flare
up, Harlan. My arms all in" He
held this good-humored. lithely-built
nephew off and looked him over. His
blond hair curled in a likable way for
women, and his smile had openness
and serenity. Yet in his heartiness
there was reserve. His clothes helped
that indehnable impression of class and
poise which was inherited, but above
all significant distinctions there stood
forth his blithe and common-sense de-
mocracy, that uneradicable quality of
the best American.
Harvard" went on Rube, don't
seem to have much on you"
Harlan laughed. He pounded Rube's
dusty shoulder. "Come on up to din
ner, Rube. Father and want a line
on the worlds SERIES"
Rube hesitated. "I'm a-going with
Wiley, son. Somehow, l couldn't talk
baseball up at your house. The Judge
is all right, but somehow man can't
hang out at a livery stable and feel at
home with your mother. She always
looks as if / smelled."
Harlan smiled slowly "Oh, come
on" But he was thinking. Everybody
knew Rube would work all winter at
Cannichael's stable and get drunk on
bootleg whisky with printers and farm
hands, and his mother-well, Rube fin
shed the thought "You see, Harlan,
your mothers mighty fine woman,
but there's never much between US.
Up at your table my hands and feet