The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1915-03-25
The Euenir,g Story
Without Excuse.
(By Grace INerrigan.)

of remaining after school, all of which
he had borne quite meekly. But on
this fifth morning Miss Smiths wrath
descended upon Busters curly head.
Have you any excuse for being late
every morning." she asked severely.
Buster nodded.
Well what is your excuse?"
Il can't tell" wept Buster all of q
sudden.
Il shall go to your mother and find
out, them" decided Miss Smith look
ing very pretty in her just Indignation.
Buster made no reply and the other
children looked rather fearfully at one
another. OF course, Miss Smith was
a comparative newcomer in Greenv1lle,
and she could not know the history of
all the families. She was lovely,
warm hearted little woman, but a
strict disciplinarian.
The next morning she left her
boarding house an hour earlier so that
she might call upon the Peterbys who
lived in a little cottage over on Valley
Hill. Mr.. Peterby kept little shop in
the village; Helen had heard of the
little place with it's scanty stock, but
her purchases had been confined to
the larger and more prosperous store
next to the pOStoffice.
Buster said he had two sisters and
baby brother" unused Helen Smith, as
she climbed Valley Hill, in her crisp
reason why a child should be so regu-
larly late every morning. Why can't
he be regularly early?'
Spinsterwise. Miss Smith pondered
these questions until she turned into
the little white painted gate of the
Peterby home. There was a garden
crowded with flowers growing rank
ly. and the draperies at the windows
hung awry as if pulled by childish
hands.
Careless commented Helen
Smith, still spinsterwise.
Her knock at the door brought Bus
ter Peterby, who turned first pale and
then red at sight of her.
Good morning, Buster said Helen
pleasantly. rs your mother in?'
Come in, please quavered Buster.
opening the door into a disordered
kitchen.
Helen stepped inside and paused
In the middle of the room was a
washtub. Over the tub, scrubbing
valiantly at bits of children's garments
was big, blond man, whose, blue eyes
being found in this feminine employ
ment. A baby chuckled on a rug: two
little girls were eating at the table and
Buster had been staboriously washing
dishes. It was a9busy scene.
place chair for the lady, Buster"
said Mr.. Peterby,5 as he deftly wrung
out pink frock.
Its my teacher whispered Buster
in an agony of embarrassment. II
been late every morning and she wants
to see-mother!"
Busters mother went away when
the baby Camel said Mr.. Peterby
without apology 'I am afraid 1 am
poor substitute, but we manage to
get along somehow. Dishwashing and
bedmaking come awkward to a little
boy of eight"
''I should think so.'' cried Helen
about it, Mr.. Peterby."
He nodded. That's the trouble in
I, ;e, En- Il l..
BILE to understand each other"
Il know it; this has taught me
lesson. Oh, Mr.. Peterby, I don't think
you should pour boiling water on those
fla .tTe Is; protested sltl Helen.
mites of white flannel baby garments.
II never noticed what my wife used to
do" His voice trailed off rather
pathetically.
"Lukewarm water and white SOAP"
explained Helen. Then they won't
shrink, and you don't have to starch
them, Mr.. Peterby; the poor lamb will
be in agony!'
Then Horace Peterby took a lesson
in washing clothes that he never for
got. He stepped back in respectful
admiration before this little lady who
did not hesitate to risk the daintiness
of her attire in his wifeless kitchen.
When she had finished the lesson
Helen Smith and Horace Peterby were
fairly well acquainted. She could not
ing young man who was trying to be
both mother and father to his chill
dren- While Buster was in school it
was his custom to trundle the baby
and the twin girls down to the little
shop, where they remained until Bus
ter came from school.
"Of course the business suffers"
sighed Mr.. Peterby, as he shook hands
with Miss Smith.
Helen Smith hurried into the school
room, quite forgetting that Buster had
gone on ahead long ago. 1t was half
past nine and she found a room full
of whispering, idle pupils.
She, the dictator, was late herself
and without excuse Before the
round-eyed wonderment of her schoI-
ars, Miss Smith called the room to
order and began the days lessons.
Blotting out the rows of youthful
faces, Helen Smith saw the Peterby
kitchen with its pathetic masculine
attempts at homework.
Above the, droning Rotations she
heard the pleasant, drawing voice of
Horace Peterby, and noted the tone of
anxiety as he asked her advice about
the baby's slight cold.
At recess, Buster told her that his
father helped him with his lessons at
night. and Helen marveled when the
man himself found leisure to do the
things he would like to do.
After that Helen often stopped in
the little shop to inquire for the baby
or the twins. On her advices and with
her help Horace Peterby restocked
his little store and even placed a mod
est advertisement in the village paper.
His supply of picture postcards was in
great demand by the summer board
ers and on Helen's advice he made
speciality of cards to supply the con-
slant demand.
Then school closed and Helen pre-
pared to return to her home in a dis
tant town.
She bade farewell to her new found
friends with some regret, but there
was sorrow in her heart when she
kissed the Peterby babies goodbye
and strained Busters chubby form to