The diamond drill., 1919-02-01


Rich folks can have anything they
want"
Uncle Peabody had sat splintering
the long stick Of yellow birch. l OBJ
served that the jackknife trembled In
his hand His tone had touch Of
unnaturalness, proceeding no doubt
from his fear OF the man before him,
as he said:
"When l bought that stove felt
/ richer than / DO now. / had almost
enough 10 settle with you up to date
but / signed note for "A friend and
had TO pay It."
"Ayuhi i suppose so," Grlmshaw
answered in tone OF bitter irony
which cut me like a knife-blade, young
as / was. "What business have you
signin' notes an glvln' away money
which amt yours 10 give-Id like TO
know? What business have you actin
like rich man when you can't pay
yer honest debts? I'd like TO know
THAT, too?'
"If I've ever acted like a rich man
it's been when / want lookin'," said
Uncle Peabody.
what business have you 10 so en-
largin' yer family-takin' another
mouth 10 feed and another body 10
spin for? That costs money. | want
10 tell you one thing, Baynes, you've
got 10 pay up or git out o. here"
lie raised his cane and shook It In
the air as he spoke.
"Oh, l amt no doubt o. that said
Uncle Peabody. you'll have 10 have
yer money--that's sure; an you Will
have n II / live, every cent Of IL.
This boy is goin' to be great help
10 me-you don't know what a good
boy he Is and what comfort he's
beeh to us I"
These words of my beloved uncle
uncovered my emotions so that / put
my elbow on the wood-box and leaned
my head upon IT and sobbed.
II amt goin' to be hard on ye,
Baynes." said Mr.. Grimshaw as he
rose from his chair; I'm give ye
\ | wouldn't wonder II the boy would
turn out all right. He's big an cordy
OF his age and purity likely boy, they
tell me-"
Mr.. Grimshaw opened the door and
stood for moment looking at us and
added in milder tone: you've got
one o. the best farms In this town an
II ye work hard an use common
sense ye ought TO be out o. debt in
i've years-mebbe less"
lie closed the door and went away.
Neither of us moved or spoke as we
listened TO his footsteps on the gravel
path that went down 10 the road and
10 the sound of his buggy as he drove
away. Then Uncle Peabody broke
the silence by saying:
"He's the dam'dest--"
He stopped. set the half-splintered
stick aside, closed his Jackknife and
went 10 the water-pall 10 cool his
emotions with drink.
Aunt Deel took up the subject where
he had dropped II, as II no-half-ex-
pressed sentiment would satisfy her,
saying:
"-old skinflint that ever lived in
this world. ayesl l amt goin' TO
hold my opinion o. that man no
I longer, ayes i can't. It's too pow
erful--ayes
Having recovered my composure i
repeated that i should like TO give up
school and stay at home and work.
Aunt Deel interrupted me by say
ing:
IL have an idee that Sile Wright
will help us-ayes! He's comm home
an you better go down an see him
ayes Hadn't ye?"
"Bart an I'll go down to-morrer,"
said Uncle Peabody.
Some fourteen months before that
day my uncle had taken me to Pots
dam and traded grain and salts for
what he called u rip roarin' fine suit
o clothes" with boots and cap and
shirt and collar and necktie 10 match.
/ having earned them by saving and
cording wood at three shllings a
cord. How often we looked back TO
those better days! The clothes had
Dteu TOO DIX LOT me huu Il nuu nhu 10
wait until my growth had taken up
the ''slnck" In my coat and trousers
before / could venture out of the
neighborhood. l had tried them on
every week or so for long time. Now
my stature filed them handsomely
and they filed me with pride and
satisfaction which / had never known
before.
snow may the Lord help ye to be
careful-awful terrible careful o.
them clothes every minute o. this
day." Aunt Deel cautioned as she
looked at me. "Don't git no horse
sweat nor wagon grease on EN-"
To Aunt Deel wagon grease was
the worst enemy OF happy and re-
spectacle home.
We hltched our team TO the grass
hopper spring wagon and set out on
our Journey. II was a warm, lmzy
Indian-summer day I'm November. As