Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1919-09-18
Little Lonesomes
r.
BY DOROTHY DOUGLAS
Copyright, 1919, by the Mcclure News
paper Syndicatel

the fence Harold Ainley struggled with
tracks and engines.
In the room above and overlooking
both gardens joys father struggled to
finish his novelette, that a check might
find its way to his front door.
The back room in the otuer house
held Harolds lovely mother, who typed
ether peoples plays and wished with
all her heart that she could hive an
Office so that she would earn more
money for the maintenance of her
loved boy.
"Oh, mumsey, l can't make my
switch work-the train won't turn 20
walled Harold from below to his moth
er, who was endeavoring to end the
third act before she must 90 down TO
prepare her boys supper
Daddy, daddy, I've torn Julia's
bestest party dress and can't fix it."
cried small voice, thereby dstractlng
her author father into hopelessness.
The continued Interruptions to his
work, the tenderness and pity he felt
for his tiny daughter and his most
complete disability to help her IA
tigued him and made him unfit for the
work that must be accomplished if the
pretty house was to be kept.
He dragged himself from his type
writer and went downstairs and out
into the garden where his fve-year-old
offspring was weeping now with her
doll held close in her wee arms.
And next door Helen Ainley had
abandoned hope of finishing her tipping
and had gone out to her small son in
vain effort to help him with his rail-
way system.
The high garden fence hid the small
domestic tragedies from each other,
but if birdman had happened to fly
overhead most any day in the week he
would have seen two large gardens
each with a tiny bit OF lonesome hui
by without anyone to play with There
was not even the smallest Of openings
in the great fence, nor yet even a
broken board through which childish
curiosity might peer
Had the fence been less perfect a
most harmonious pair of lonesome
children might have found each other
and made the long days short. Also it
would have given two distracted pa
rents more opportunity to pursue their
fortunes free from an ever-recurring
demand on their time,
But one day, because it must always
be the male who hunts, young Harold
decided that he would like to know
what lay on the opposite side of his
combining wall. AT seven years old a
six-foot fence seems a regular Jack
in-the-Beanst8lk climb The vines
We're strong, or seemed so to Harold's
venturesome mood
Mumsey was not looking when he
began the ascent; otherwise-well,
happenings would undoubtedly have
been different.
Harold gained the top with only mi
nor struggles. His delight at seeing
Joy in all her young beauty as a re-
ward for his climb almost succeeded
in sending him headlong into her gar
den. AS it was, he perched himself
like squirrel on branch and opened
shameless conversation with the young
lady with her dolls.
Joy made suitable replies and made
no effort to conceal the delight his ar
rival on the fence gave her She held
her doll up for his inspection, only to
be told that his railway track was
mu~l more fun. JOY only tossed her
sunny curls.
Perhaps it was her disdain that I'M
balanced him, for a second later he
thumped down into joys garden and
lay in a heap among the pink gerani-
ums that bordered the wall
Joys shrek of dismay was so terri
flying that her daddy flew down the
stairs at top speed, scattering the
pages Of his novelette, and leaving his
heroine in a scandalous, wholly I'M
compromising position.
And Harolds mother flung a frantic
glance at the two gardens, suspected
the worst and barely escaped falling
out VI uEI MlUubN III an tlAgAl " DEC
where her boy lay.
But the author had been so swift to
the rescue that before she could with
draw from her window and dash down
the stairs he had Harold in his arms.
There were no bones broken and
most manly smile crept through the
fright that fingered in the small adj
yenturer's eyes.
Mrs. Ainley nearly collapsed over
the window ledge in her relief.
"Sound as a bell, Ransom called up
when he caught sight Of her In
flash he wondered why he had never
before known that his next-door neigh
Dor was a charming mixture Of poetic
loneliness and earthly reality. Her
hair was sunkissed and reddish her
color delicate as hawthorne blooms
and her nose had q smear Of typewrit-
er ink on It. He hoped that she, too,
was not a poor struggling writer
How shall l get him backi' she
was calling.
"Now that he has found his way
ever may he not play with my daugh-
ter? | think they both need compan-
ionshlp.' Ransom meantime had got
fI~wIqa and rrag ying