FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   111   112   113   114   115   116   117   118   119   120   121   122   123   124   125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135  
136   137   138   139   140   141   142   >>  
art o' town that ain't changed, though. Most o' the old folks is gone, too, and the young uns, like you chaps, all git ambitious fer the cities. I give up cuttin' hair 'bout three year back--got kinder onsteady an' cut too many ears." A sudden smile broke over Old Hundred's face. "Clarkie," he said, "you were always up on such things--is it rats or warts that you write a note to when you want 'em to go away?" "Yes, it's rats, isn't it?" I cried, also reminded, for the first time, of our real quest. "Why," said Clarkie, "you must be sure to make the note very partic'lar perlite, and tell 'em whar to go. Don't fergit that." "Yes, yes," said we, "but is it warts or rats?" "Well," said Clarkie, "it's both." We looked one at the other, and grinned rather sheepishly. "Only thar's a better way fer warts," Clarkie went on. "I knew a boy once who sold his. That's the best way. Yer don't have actually to sell 'em. Just git another feller to say, 'I'll give yer five cents fer yer warts,' and you say, 'All right, they're yourn,' and then they go. Fact." We thanked him, and moved down to the road, declining his invitation to come into the house. Westward, the sun had gone down and left the sky a glowing amber and rose. The fields rolled their young green like a checkered carpet over the low hills--the sweet, familiar hills. For an instant, in the hush of gathering twilight, we stood there silent and bridged the years; wiping out the strife, the toil, the ambitions, we were boys again. "Hark!" said Old Hundred, softly. Down through the orchard we heard the thin, sweet tinkle of a cow-bell. "There's a boy behind, with the peeled switch," he added, "looking dreamily up at the first star, and wishing on it--wishing for a lot of things he'll never get. But I'm sure he isn't barefoot. Let's go." As we passed down the turnpike, between the rows of cheap frame houses, we saw, in the increasing dusk, the ruins of a lane, and the corner of a small, back-yard potato patch, that had been Kingman's field. We hastened through the noisy, treeless village, and boarded the Boston train, rather cross for want of supper. "I wonder," said Old Hundred, as we moved out of the station, "whether we'd better go to Young's or the Parker House?" [Illustration] _Mumblety-peg and Middle Age_ Old Hundred and I were taking our Saturday afternoon walk in the country--that is,
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   111   112   113   114   115   116   117   118   119   120   121   122   123   124   125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135  
136   137   138   139   140   141   142   >>  



Top keywords:
Clarkie
 

Hundred

 

things

 

wishing

 

tinkle

 

orchard

 
peeled
 
dreamily
 

switch

 
instant

gathering

 

twilight

 
familiar
 

carpet

 

checkered

 

changed

 

ambitions

 

strife

 
silent
 
bridged

wiping

 

softly

 
station
 
supper
 

village

 

boarded

 

Boston

 
Parker
 

Saturday

 

taking


afternoon

 

country

 

Middle

 

Illustration

 
Mumblety
 

treeless

 
houses
 

turnpike

 
barefoot
 

passed


increasing

 

Kingman

 

hastened

 
potato
 

corner

 

partic

 

perlite

 

cuttin

 

fergit

 
ambitious