Evening star., 1926-10-29
THE EVENING STORY
F in your travels you should ever
come to Carlisle you must be
sure to look up little Bobbie Bar.

T F in your travels you should ever
come to Carlisle you must be
sure to look up little Bobbie Bar
i ton.
Driving in on the Fortney road
YOU will come upon the Barton resi-
dence on your right as you enter the
village. Surrounding 1t is big lawn
and inclosing the lawn is a trim
green-and-white picket fence.
All day long in pleasant weather
you will see passers-by stopping at
this fence, seeking by the usual sort
of meaningless chatter to win favor
with the curlyheaded, biue'eyed
youngster inside. Such expressions
as what a cunning little angel" you
will hear frequently. And If it should
be that Bobs' Aunt Amelia is guard
ing him, you will see her pleasant but
, aging face light up into a smile, ana
| to all outward appearances she will be
in thorough accord with the speakers
remark Were you close observer,
however, you might detect a tlnge OF
notwithstanding so foreign TO
the good hearted woman's nature that
it calls for explanation. We who are
her neighbors know something OF the
bitter humiliation in which the pranks
of the little angel" have involved her
OAA>
example, the time the Second Presby-
terian Church was raising funds for
a new parish house. Aunt Amelia
was a leading spirit in the drive, and,
with the permission of Mrs. Barton,
had offered the Barton dining room as
committee meeting place. She had,
moreover, prepared an elaborate ad-
dress intended in forceful terms to
drive home the need for unified and
energetic campaigning. In. the midst
of the oration-her cheeks glowing
with unwonted animation-Amelia
stopped short, gasped and almost
dropped in terror Wondering, all of
us, including the Rev. Mr.. Parsons,
followed her eyes to the stairway
There we saw Bobs, an irresistible
smile playing about his lips
"Bobs gonna play store, Aunt
'Melia" he said, simply enough. kin
we play wild dese?"
And then, to the everlasting dismay
of Aunt Amelia, he held out a box
with the words Mrs. Teagle's Wrih-
kle Remover" painfully visible, in ad-
dition to two switches of hair and
lirstick, the mysteries of which Aunt
Amelia had evidently been investigat-
ing in the privacy Of her own room.
But all this, while it probably can
never be forgotten, has been forgiven.
Romance has come to Amelia after
four years relay, and Bobs is the
youngster responsible for its coming.
Aunt Amelia (who Is Mrs. Barton's
sister, is to be married in Spring to
Uncle George, Mr.. Barton's brother.
A more devoted pair of love birds our
town has never seen.
We in Carlisle had often wondered
about Uncle George and Aunt Amelia.
Dat nv
linking them together in a possible
romance Bachelor and spinster, both
getting along in years and both mem
bers of the same household, they
would. we felt, sooner or later furnish
Carlisle with that delicious period of
excitement, gossip and amusement
known as wedding, but for years we
have been disappointed. Somehow
that air of unyielding dignity brought
on by the lonely years that preceded
their coming to Carlisle seemed to
have prevented their becoming better
acquainted.
Then came that never-to-b be- forgot
ten August day when, toward in the
afternoon, Bobs' usual resourcefulness
in the matter of amusement seemed
to have exhausted itself AS a result.
Bobs was listless. even bored. until a
wonderful idea seized him. The attic
with it's dusty hooks, its confusion of
interesting things. it's trunks and un-
explored treasure, beckoned him.
Exactly what took place there we,
of course, don't know. 1t is assumed
that he rummaged about until he
came upon a dustproof oak box snugly
hidden near the bottom of the trunk.
This he quickly opened. Inside he
found a packet of letters, gently per-
fumed and tenderly tied with ribbons.
1t was the courtship correspondence
of Mr. and Mrs. Barton, fresh and
clean as years before. Priceless indi-
vidual collections before marriage,
they had been combined after the
ceremony, so that now each letter
nestled next to it's reply.
Then and there the amusement
problem of Bobbie Barton was solved.
He was to be a mail man.
In Chestnut street a few moments
later a curly-headed young gentle
man might have been seen, diligently
ringing each doorbell, handing the
respondent an interesting looking en-
velope and then travelling onward.
How many families of our Chest
nut street colonoy could have been
found at dinner that evening, chuc-
king over the fervid writings of Mr.