The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1914-05-06
TYKE AND SMITH.
BY GEORGE RANDOLPH CHESTER.

! dozen important things called ur
gently upon him for attention; the
, funny gray bugs underneath the fiat
, stone at the side of the front steps
, the nice little puddle where the gar
) den hydrant dripped; the hydrant it.
self with the possibilities it offered OF
getting yourself nice and wet and cool
all over; the broken outside cellar
door, with its webbing springiness
and the chance Il offered of getting
another scar on his chin.
But outside the Brainerd gate a
new and wonderful diversion offered
itself. A white dog, young enough to
be playful and old enough to be a
confirmed tramp, bounced UP and
poked his cold muzzle into young Mr..
Smiths hand. Young Mr. Smith
jerked his hand away and stumbled
back two steps, where he stood at
rigid attention, his stomach drawn
back as far from danger as possible
He was fine dog, that fellow. He
was better than a doll, because you
didn't have to move his legs and arms
for him, or pinch him to make him
| squeak. He was better than a two
acknowledgements human playmate,
| because he did not always want to
shrek for the identical thing that you
| wanted.
For instance, he would grab up a
stick and run few steps with 1t,
then lay it down. When you went to
pick 1t up, he would grab it and run
| a bit farther and lay it down again;
but maybe that time he would let you
get 1t and let you run on ahead and
would try to grab 1t out Of your hands,
and by and by you would let him
have 1t, because it was only stick,
anyhow, and you didn't want it-that
Is, till the dog got it; then you wanted
1t.
That was fine game, and 1t took
them several blocks away from the
house where Mrs Smith sat calmly
content in her work, secure In the
knowledge that the Brainerd girls
were petting and coddling the young
ster and spelling him, and getting his
stomach out Of whack, and teaching
him bits of choice new slang for them
to laugh at when he repeated it, and
loving him half to death
In one of the smooth. wide drive
ways stood quiet automobile. and
man wearing a leather cap and very
black face was doing something or
other with delightfully."- dirty-looking
tools
A little way off, up near the foun-
tain, another man sat on bench. He,
too, had on leather cap but his face
was clean and his clothes were clean,
and, what was more fascinating than
all, he was feeding peanuts to the
squirrels.
He walked right up and held out his
right hand. The white dog, at the
same time, walked up to the man and
shifted. but 1t was only a perfunctory
sniff. He, too, possessed the clairvoy.
ance that could see through clothes
and countenances and fair speech to
the hearts of men.
The young man promptly proceeded |
to fill both chubby hands. Peanuts
stuck out from them in every direc-
ton, and one fell upon the ground In
trying to pick it up he dropped six.
What Is your name?" asked the big
man In one Of the intervals of Smelling
and feeding.
Robert Walsingham Smith waited
until he had swallowed what was in
his mouth. as he had been carefully
taught to do. and then he replied
clearly and concisely:
Name, Wobbawassinmiss."
Exactly" agreed the man. II
thought 1t must be something like
that. If you don't mind, however I'll
just call you Tyke. 1t comes handler"
Il tired"
why, bless my soul. so you must
be-" replied the man, becoming sud
denly aware that the small morsel
of humanity had been standing all
this time on two amazingly small feet
He glanced down at the dust-grimed
little shoes and gathered the young.
ster compassionately In his big arms.
Tyke rested his head contentedly
back in the comfortable angle he
found waiting for it.
The big man started to talk about
the birds and the squirrels and the
other things that he judged might In
terest tykes in general. glancing down
every now and then and watching for
the monosyllabled replies that came
more and more slowly. In one of
these glances he observed that the
blue eyes were glazing and that the
lids were dropping.
Here, Tyke, said he hastily, this
won't do! Somebody will be looking
for you"
But the sleep of Likelihood knows
no logic. 1t comes when 1t wills as
irresistible as doom itself, and the man
suddenly found himself the possessor
of a strange baby that was sound
asleep.
Here's a nice middle" he specu.