The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1922-10-31
EDening Story
John Pumpkin.
By CLARIssA MACKIE.

q By CIARISSA MACK1E.
"John Pumpkins homel" an
nounced Miss Priddy, holding on to
her shabby old garden hat. Her black
eyes regarded Elsie With curiosity
who is John Pumpkin Elsie
struggled to remember-she won
dered II he was some one she really
ought to recoIlect at once, Miss
Fridays brother-in-law or some rela-
tive?
Forgotten" The old Iady's tone
was acid.
IT do remember! It's your new
man of all work." All the time Elsie
was saying to herself, John Pump
KIM have heard that name-and
it has pleasant associations"
You ought to know who it is,
since you nicknamed him that years
ago, and made him a laughing stock
in the school-and besides, I haven't
any new hired man, and John Marsh
is home again. to stay she ended
triumphantly.
Elsie's face was pink with excite
ment. AS she left Miss Priddy's trim
garden and walked on in the gusty
October afternoon, she could wildly
picture great frecked-faced lad
whose shock of thick yellow-red hair
had inspired her mischievous little
girl mind and tongue to dub him
John Pumpkin" In spite of the fact
that he was the only son of the great
Judge Marsh, the name chung to him.
and the boy had taken it good-na-
turedly. Elsie remembered that he
had called her a sauce box" and she
did not forget his solemn brown eyes
as he did SO.
AS she busted herself about the
house that afternoon she found her
self thinking more than once of John
Marsh and what his Homecoming
might mean to the folks of Little
River. He had graduated from
college, had Travelled in far countries
and had fought in the great war, but
Little River had not seen him for
fifteen years. The old judge. and his
wife had died and the big house had
been closed for years. Some one had
met John in New York and brought
the news that he was lawyer. So
the tiny, world of Little River forgot
John Pumpkin
John Marsh is home again. said
her mother that same afternoon, re-
turning home from her sewing circle.
''They say he is staying at, the big
house"
at must be lonely there" remarked
Elsie, as she put the finishing touches
to the supper table.
Maria Ellen's keeping house for
him, they say,
81 wonder if he was ever married 2"
'All the other women are asking the
same question" said Mrs. Hill dryly.
1T isn't likely that man in his posi-
ton would look twice at our little
village girls! His high position and
his wealth and education would Tead
tShim to choose a wife in his own So
cial set"
"Poohi" shifted Elsie, scornfu1ly, as
she helped her mother to a piece of
frosted cake, ''he is only John Pump
kin after ALL"
"EIsie," shrieked her mother, 81
forbid you to rake up that old nick
name after all these years. Mrs.
Marsh never forgave you for it,
Yes, she did, mother" protested
Elsie. blushing; ST went and apollo
gized to Mrs. Marsh, and she was
lovely about it,
r. You did? When was that?"
Ever SO long ago-before he left
the village. 1t was when he>ha the
scarlet fever, 1 think
Mrs. Hill stared.
Scarlet fever? And that's where
you caught lt-and nearly died?'
Yes, mother-but I didn't die,
after all, and was sorry for ali the
trouble I made. Speaking. of John
Pumpkin Gust to you, dear)I want
pumpkin from the garden tomorrow
to make some pies"
| Very well: you better pick it to-
night, then-rhere's just one or two
left, and as it's Halloween it might be
stolen
A great yellow round moon was
flooding the world with light when
Elsie Hill opened the gate that led
| into the vegetable patch. In the dis
lance the great shocks of corn made
dense black shadows on the stubbled
ground. Now and then the leaves
drifted down from the trees in light
| stirring wind.
Away to the right, down the valley
she could. see the scattered lights of
the village; even the tall church
steeple looked like "a black dart
against the sky. Somewhere in the
near woods a whip-poor-will
of unseen little things among the dead
grasses.
Witches night!' laughed Elsie,
and then her face sobered. All Hal
loween, with its fun and frolic, always
brought keen regret that her happy
childhood days were gone. On a
night like this she would sit on the
rail fence and dream about the old
schoolhouse on the hill-the fun
when the snow was on the ground
the riches of. acquired knowledge, and
the merry fun afterward-coasting
remembering now, as she walked
among the withered pumpkin vines,
one october night at a candy-pulling,
when some mischievous boy had
Ithoughtlessly tossed a bit of taffy
at her and It caught in the golden
glory of her eurlsi 1t was John
Pumpkin" who had gently removed
the sticky mess, bit by bit, with warm
water, and who had afterward scolded
the culprit all the way home.
Dear old John Pumpkin" MUIR
! INJURED Elsie, as she sat down on a
huge pumpkin and stared at the moon.
Il expect he's terribly grown up and
stand offish, but he did have a kind
lheartVfor a boyi"
'.A-hem!" coughed some one from
among the cornshocks.
Elsie did not scream She was a
country girl and used to the surprises
of the night, and the demand for
pumpkins was great and small boys
were bold
us that you, Sammy Smith," she
demanded severely.
''Why. no. it isn't" replied a pleas
ant masculine voice. and out from the
/ shadow of the nearest shock stepped a
tall form, bareheaded and dressed as
no other man in Little River cOuId