Cleveland County herald., 1919-03-13

l whisper, with one hand on my breast. He turned the strings and played the sFisher's Hornpipe" What q romp | of merry music filled the housel I had never heard the like and was soon smiling at him as he played. His bow and fingers flew in the wild frolic of | the Devils Dream.o It led me out Of my sadness into world all new to me.
 "Now, God bless your soul, boy!" he exclaimed, by and by, as he put down | his instrument. "We shall have a good time together-that we will. Not a stroke O work this day! Come, have guide here that will take us down l to the land O the fairies"
 Then with his microscope he showed me into the wonder world of littleness of which had no knowledge.
 "The microscope is like the art O the teacher" he said. eve known a good teacher to take brain no bigger than fly's foot an make it visible to the naked eye"
 One of the children, of which there were four in the Racket home, called us to supper. Mrs. Racket, a stout woman with red and kindly face, sat at one end of the table, and between them were the children-Mary, pret- ty daughter of seventeen years Mag gie, a siX-year-old; Ruth, a delicate girl of seven, and John, noisy, red faced boy of five. The chairs were of plain wood-like the kitchen chairs of today. In the middle of the table was an empty one-painted green. Before i he sat down MT. Racket put his hand on the back of this chair and said
 "A merry heart to you, Michael Henry.''
 I wondered at the meaning of this, but dared not to ask. The oldest daughter acted as kind of moderator with the others.
 Mary is the constable of this house, with power to arrest and hale into court for undue haste or rebellion or impoliteness," MT. Racket explained.
 "I believe that Sally Dunkelberg is your friend" he said to me presently.
 "Yes, sir," answered.
 "A fine slip of girl that and born scholar. I saw you look at her as the Persian looks at the rising sun. J
 I blushed and Mary and her mother and the boy John looked at me and | laughed.
 'Puer pulcherrime MT. Racket exclaimed with kindly smile.
 Uncle Peabody would have called 1t a "stout snag." The schoolmaster had hauled 1t out of his brain very deftly and chucked 1t down before me in a kind of challenge.
 "What does that mean?" I asked.
 "You shall know in a week, my son." he answered. "I shall put you into the Latin class Wednesday morning, and God help you to like it as we'll as you like Sally"
 Again they laughed and again I blushed
 'Hold up yer head. my brave lad" he went on. "Ye've perfect right to like Sally if ye've heart to.
 "A lad in his teens
 Will never know beans
 If he hasn't an eye for the girls.''
 It was merry supper, and when it ended Mir. Racket rose and took the green chair from the table, exclaim- ing:
 Michael Henry, God bless you!"
 Then he kissed his wife and said:
 Maggie, you wild rose of Erinl I've | been all day in the study. I must take walk or shall get an exalted abdo- men, One is badly beaten in the race O life when his abdomen gets ahead of his toes. Children, keep our young friend happy here until I come back, and mind you, don't forget the good fellow in the green chair" | Mary helped her mother with the dishes, while sat with a book by the fireside. Soon Mrs. Racket and the children came and sat down with me. Let's play backgammon" Mary pro- posed.
 II don't want to-" said John.
 Don't forget Michael Henry" she reminded
 "Who is Michael Henry?" I asked.
 Sure, he's the boy that has never been born," said Mrs. Racket. "He was to be the biggest and noblest of them-kind an helpful an cheery hearted an beloved O God above all the others. We try to live up to him."
 He seemed to me very strange and wonderful creature-this invisible oc- cupant of the green chair. l know now what l knew not then that Michael Henry was the spirit of their home-an ideal of which the empty green chair was a constant re- hinder.
 We played backgammon and "old maids and "everlasting" until MT. Racket returned.
 The sealed envelope which MT. Wright had left at our home, a long time before that day, was in my pocket. At last the hour had come when I could open it and read the message of which I had thought much and with growing interest. TOGO opd coi1 fho< cbo,,Id UJyo <o