The Winslow mail., 1922-07-07

Mrs. Pollywog will be over tomorrow
to borrow your fountain pen or your
tortoiseshell comb, or perhaps she will
come visiting for few days, and the
cost Of entertaining her would buy sew
eral barrels of chicken broth.
81 hate to have anybody do me
kindness, knowing I'll be expected to
return the favor with interest in one
way or another. When I was a mere
boy my eyes were opened to the fact
that kind actions are delusion and
snare Next door to us there lived an
old dame named Mrs. Crimp. One day
she came over to our house with a
pair of woolen socks she had knitted
for me. | suppose an equally good
pair could have been bought at the
trade palace for fifteen cents, and
wasn't overwhelmed with joy. My
mother, who, with all her splendid
qualities, was an easy mark, and in
clined to find good in everything and
everybody, was enthusiastic over Mrs.
Crimps generosity.
"But even in my infant years I was
gifted with the wisdom of the serpent,
and I felt from the first that there was
some malevolent scheme in the back
ground.
'"The scheme was soon developed.
Mrs. Crimp had many chores to do,
and she hated to do them herself
There was wood to be carried into the
@<, +ol~
Of and a hundred other Improbable
tasks. Every time I'd meet her she'd
say, swell, my sweet little boy, with
your golden ringlets and sunny smile,
how do you like the socks | made you?
If you only knew how l worked, so you
would have the best socks in town
And that reminds me Of little errand
/ wish you would do for me. Go to
Mr.. Jinks who lives seven miles north.
and ask him to let you have his saw,
so you can cut some kindling for me
tomorrow"
"First and last, Mrs. Jiggers, put in
$1,000 worth of manual labor for that
woman and my youth was poisoned.
and my manhood embittered by it.
might have forgiven everything had
the socks been good ones, but they
we're atrocious. The heels always
worked around to my insteps and the
tops worked down over my shoes.
''It has been that way all my life.
When man insists upon doing me a
kindness / look upon him with SuS-
picion. When I was laid up in my
room with a broken leg two or three
years ago, I had an excellent time.
The leg hurt only at intervals, and /
had plenty of novels to read, and
nothing to worry over, and l would
have enjoyed myself splendidly but
for tiresome philanthropists who were
determined to sit by my bedside and
cheer me up. l didn't need any cheer
ing up, and l tried to convince them
that their visits he'd the opposite eff
feet, but they wouldn't take a hint.
They sat by my couch of suffering and
told idiotic stories, and bored me al
most to death.
"Jim Higginbottom was an especial
nuisance. That man simply wouldn't
20 away as long as there was an ex-
, cuse for staying. He said his con-
science wouldn't allow him to forSake
.he bedside of a suffering friend. At
that time / carried some accident in
surance, and when my check came Jim
borrowed half of it, and after he got
the money he never worried over my
leg any more. And he never returned
any of the money. l don't blame him
for that, for l make it a rule never to
return borrowed money, but l can't
easily forgive him for boring me so
many hours, when I wanted to be
reading"