Grandfather

Grandfather

By Elsie Chamberlain Carroll.

It was the middle of the afternoon and Ted's neck tie still hung with a knot in one end of it. The ordinary layman would probably not attach any particular significance to this fact, but any one of the fifty thousand boy scouts in the country would instantly have known by it that Ted had not yet performed his "good turn" on this particular day. The fact was, Ted had been so busy in his garden since early morning that he had actually forgotten his delinquency until he started to the house to get his ball, for it was almost time for the Darton Junior Nine to meet on the diamond in Jed Davis' vacant lot for their tri-weekly practice. The sight of the knotted tie brought a momentary frown of vexation to Ted's freckled face. Not that he was averse to per- forming this part of the scout ceremony, but there was no one in sight to be the recipient of his kind act, and he was in a hurry. His mother and sister Dorothy were in the city shop- ping, so he could not voluteer his services to them. His father was at the factory office. There was usually some errand he could run for his father, but there was not time today. He thought of his college brother. Hal always seemed glad when he found a scout's conscience in evidence in a pair of nicely pol- ished shoes. He was just trying to decide whether it should be Hal's shoes or more kindlings for Widow Perkins around the corner, when his eyes fell on grandfather sitting alone out under the arbor watching a pair of robins building a nest in a nearby apple tree. Grandfather had been living with them for more than a month now, but to Ted he seemed almost as much of a stranger as he did the day he arrived. He had come home with them directly after grandmother's funeral. They had scarcely seen him before for fifteen years when he had moved to the coast for grandmother's health. There had been something in the old man's well-controlled grief that had made them understand that he wanted to be left alone with his sorrow, and each member of the family had instinctively respected his unspoken wish. At first he had spent most of his time in the large, cheery, south bedroom which had been provided for him, and was seldom with the family except at meal time, when every one made an extra

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effort to keep up a lively impersonal conversation. They did not want to wound grandfather. He seldom spent the evenings with them, preferring it seemed, a hook in his own room. And so they had grown used to him and had come to think of him only as an old man crushed with grief who wanted to be left to himself. The weeks passed and as the raw edge of grandfather's wound healed, he naturally craved some interests and compan- ionship, and tried to find a place for himself in his son's family. He began to linger awhile after supper, but he soon became con- scious that the conversation was strained and unnatural because of his presence. He tried to talk business with his son and sug- gested that he would like to be of assistance if there was any- thing he could do at the factory from which he had retired as active manager in favor of his son when he had moved away with his invalid wife. The present manager, however, was so engrossed in establishing some modern methods, that he had been too busy and absorbed, so far, even to talk over affairs with his father, much lesss take him over the plant that meant the prime efforts of the old man's early active life. Again, grandfather had offered his assistance to Ted's mother in little duties about the house, but she had very kindly told him that he was too old to be imposed upon with such tasks and that he must rest and enjoy himself. And so, without any of them realizing it, grandfather had come to feel like an outcast. He was of the family but not a part of it. They were all ex- tremely kind to him, but too absorbed in their own interests to read the glowing hunger and loneliness in the old man's heart. He was beginning to think that he was no longer of use in the world, and that there was nothing for him to do but to wait. Something of all this was depicted in the old man's face this afternoon as he sat watching the birds. And strangely enough, a hint of the fact was borne in upon Ted's mind as his eye rested upon grandfather's face. No one would have ex- pected noisy, thoughtless, careless Ted to be the one to see through the calm, uncomplaining, exterior into the tender depths of grandfather's hungry heart, but so it was. With a sudden feeling of pity for the lonely old man, Ted walked to the arbor with his fingers on the knot in his tie. "Howdy do, grandfather. Is there anything I can do for you this afternoon?" The old man looked up in surprise. "Why, yes, there is, Sonny," grandfather answered unex- pectedly. "I was just feeling a bit lonesome, so if you haven't anything else to do you might sit and talk with me awhile." Ted, thinking of the ball practice to begin in twenty min-

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utes, sat down a little regretfully, sat down wondering what he could talk about to this old gentleman who seemed almost like a stranger and who, as his mother had warned him so many times, must not be reminded of his recent sorrow. "I've just been looking over the papers," grandfather said, and Ted was glad he had not waited for him to open the con- versation. "This war's a terrible thing. They go at it a good bit dif- ferent to what we did, but it brings the old days all back again to me." A new light popped into the boy's eyes. He leaned for- ward eagerly, his hero-worshiping little heart beating rapidly. "O, grandfather, you were a soldier in the Civil war. I had forgotten. Do please tell me all about it." The old man cleared his throat and looked into the admir- ing face beside him. "I've been thinking about those days a good bit lately. I tell you, Sonny, those were exciting times for us fellows right in the scrap. "Now I'll never forget the day I volunteered. President Lincoln —." And so the story began. The minutes passed, ten, twenty, thirty, and the game over in Davis' vacant lot began, minus one "crack" pitcher. "Hello, Ted, why didn't you come to practice?" Bill Peters called from the street just as the factory whistle informed Darton that it was six o'clock." — — "0, I was busy," Ted answered vaguely, his eager eyes still on the erect old soldier who, with glowing face, was march- ing up and down the arbor as he concluded a thrilling account of the battle of Gettysburg. "Well, you must be sure and come tomorrow," Bill in- sisted. "We let Tim pitch and he ain't much better'n a girl." "I'll be there," Ted responded, and grandfather turned to him with quick contrition in his voice. "Did I keep you from your game, Sonny?" "No, sir. This has been lots better. All the fellows will be crazy to hear you tell it when they know you are a real soldier." "So you're the pitcher?" Grandfather said musingly after a moment's pause. "Do you know the Hartley curve?" "No, sir," owned Ted a little bewildered. "But I know two others that most of the fellows can't get next to." "Well, you bring your ball out here in the morning and I'll show you one that'll stump the whole bunch." "Why, grandfather, do you play baseball, too?" Ted fairly gasped in his astonishment.

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"No, not now," the old man laughed. "But I used to pitch for the Dover nine, and a chum of mine named Hartley dropped onto this curve. It is the best I ever saw." "Will you go with me to the game tomorrow and watch me put it over the fellows?" Ted asked with his usual impulsive- ness. "I just want the boys to see what a bully old sport you are." The hearty laugh which accompanied grandfather's accept- ance startled Mrs. Ashton and Dorothy as they came in at the gate. "Why, that sounded like grandfather," the woman ex- claimed in alarm. "I wonder what is the matter?" She hur- ried around to the arbor. "Theodore, have you been bothering grandfather?" she de- manded. Some of the new light died out of the old man's face and he stood a little confused before the questioning glance of his daughter-in-law. "Not a mite, Mary. We've been having a little visit that's all." "Well, you must not let him annoy you when you are rest- ing. He doesn't seem to have much judgment about some things. You must go and do your chores now, Theodore," and as the boy turned a little resentfully toward the barn he heard his mother continue. "Here is a new science magazine I brought you from the city. I thought you might like a little different sort of read- ing." The old man thanked her and taking the paper walked slowly to the front porch. Mrs. Ashton went into the house, while Ted went on to the barn, his mind in a state of sudden revolution. "I've had the electric fan going in your room for a half hour, grandfather, so I think it will be nice and comfortable now. You look extra tired tonight. I'm afraid Theodore did wear you out this afternoon with his nonsense." The family had just finished supper. The head of the fam- ily was hidden behind the evening paper; Dorothy was looking over some new music she had brought from the city, and Hal was chuckling over the latest copy of Life. No one but Ted noticed grandfather's face as this gentle concern reached his ears. He arose slowly and said he guessed he would go up and read a bit before bed time. Grandfather had scarcely passed safely from hearing before the small volcano which had been boiling in the young scout's breast all evening, belched forth. "I think it's a doggoned shame the way you all treat grandfather." His mother stopped with the vase she was lift-

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ing from the sideboard; his father's paper crumpled to the floor,and Hal and Dorothy looked up simultaneously. "Why, what do you mean?" his father demanded. "Well, I mean that he's a bully old sport and you all try to make him feel like an old moss-back ready for the grave. Father never talks to him; mother wants him to sit around and read dry articles all the time, and Dorothy and Hal never pay any attention to him. I'd clear forgot till this afternoon that he's an old soldier. Why, there's not one in this whole doggoned family that can hold a candle to grandfather. I'm going up to his room. I know he'd sooner play checkers than read some dry dope about Xrays in that old Popular Science mother brought him," and Ted stalked indignantly from the room. For a moment after he had gone there was an unbroken silence. His mother was the first to speak. "Harold, you will simply have to take that boy in hand. With his boy scout ceremonies and his baseball nonsense, he's getting altogether too important for a child of his age. I'm surprised that you'd allow him to use the impertinence he did just now without a reprimand. And now he's up there bothering grandfather when he is already worn out." Mr. Ashton looked quizzically at his wife. "Come, come, Mary, you know Ted'll come out all right. And I'm convinced the chap's struck the nail on the head about the way we treat father." "Why, Harold Ashton, what do you mean? Haven't we all been just as kind as we could be to grandfather? I've tried to make things just as easy and comfortable as I could for him rnd I thought you were all doing the same." "That's it. We've overdone it. Father came to us all broken up over Mother's death, but that is no reason why we should expect him to sit in his room and brood all the rest of his natural days. He was always the jolliest sort of a fellow, and as Ted says a 'bully sport.' He's been away from us so long we'd really forgotten him. Just listen to that now." "That" was a mingled shout of a boy's laughter and an old man's hilarious "haw, haw," coming from the room up stairs. The subject was dropped, but each member of the familv spent the evening doing some healthy thinking about it. That night when Ted undressed, the knot was still in his tie. He was too honest to count his afternoon and evening with grandfather as a good turn to anyone except himself, and there was no way for him to know the really good turn he had done that day. Grandfather's future was to reveal that. The next morning when Ted came down stairs his mother was talking on the telephone to Mrs. Mallory, over in Cooper. "flello! That you Alice? I just wanted to know if your

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father couldn't come over and visit a week with grandfather, lou remember they were in the same regiment in the war and I'm sure they would enjoy talking over old times. Yes. Right away. A week, at least, and longer if he will stay. All right. Thank you. We will meet him tomorrow afternoon." Ted stood listening in surprise. When his mother turned from the telephone and met his eyes, a slight flush came into her cheeks but she only said, "Hurry and get washed for breakfast, Teddy." Grandfather came down just as his son was finishing break- fast.

"Good morning, father," came the usual greeting with something more than the usual warmth. "I was wondering if you would care to come and go over the plant today? I've been wanting to talk over with you some changes in the system that seem needed, so if you haven't any- thing else on I'll send the machine around for you in a couple of hours." The quick light of interest which sprang into the old man's face was not lost on the family. "Why, all right, Hal, if you don't think I'm getting too old to give sound advise, I'd be glad to go over the thing with you." "Old!" exclaimed his son, giving him an affectionate slap on the shoulder. "Why, I'm thinking of giving up your old job to you. You're good for twenty-five years of hard pulling yet." Grandfather chuckled as he sat down to his breakfast. "You mustn't go to the factory until I learn that new curve," put in Ted decisively. "Golly, won't Legs be hot. I've got two curves the best of him now. His team won't stand any show now in the league." An hour later Dorothy came into the back yard just as grandfather shouted with the enthusiasm of a scout himself, "That's it! That's it, Sonny. You've got it fine!" and Ted, red-faced and panting, ran to the other end of the yard to re- cover the ball. "Grandfather," Dorothy said sweetly, "have you time to hear a new piece of music I am learning for the Fourth of July celebration. It's the Gettysburg March, and I wanted to see if it sounds like Gettysburg to you."

With a look of admiring love, the old man followed his pretty granddaughter into the parlor. Soon the automobile came and he was whirled away to the big plant that stood for the dreams of his young manhood. At lunch, Hal came bustling in late with his usual breezi- ness and exclaimed before he had fairly caught his breath,

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"Grandfather, can you be ready in fifteen minutes to go and help me root for our fellows at the foot ball game?" "But he's going to see us play baseball," protested Ted. "Why, Ted, a real scout wouldn't be selfish enough to want grandfather to miss the biggest game of the season for your dinkey little old practice." Ted flushed, and grandfather, smiling at him kindly, was about to speak, when Ted forced himself to say good-naturedly, "No, of course I wouldn't want him to miss the game, and he can see us some other time." Grandfather patted him on the shoulder with kind under- standing, and suggested that they invite some of the boys in that evening and he'd show them some war relics he had in his trunk. So Ted watched Hal and grandfather as they disappeared down the street. "Just my luck, doggone it," he muttered to himself. "Now they know what a fine old sport he is, I won't ever get a chance to have him. I ought to have kept my head shut last night. Doggone it," and with his hands thrust deep into his pockets he walked slowly toward Davis' vacant lot, with an expression on his freckled face which would not have been so cloudy if he could have realized that he was the cause of the new happiness which had suddenly brightened an old man's life.

King Booze'

"King Booze," you are dead but we weep not for you, ;

For you were a tyrant during all of your reign. You wrought vengeance and brought ruin by your rule, You sowed misery and reaped death to get gain. "King Booze," you are dead. Your death we loudly acclaim. You scoffed at the weak you proved false to the strong ;

You laughed at their struggle who sought to be free From your shackles that enslaved them so long. But now you are dead your reign and your terror are o'er, :

We breathe a sigh of relief as we gaze at your bier, And rejoice at the freedom we feel at your passing, For you were a tyrant for mortals to fear. "King Booze," you are dead. Your past we'll seek to erase, Nor think of the gloom of the life you have led; The sorrow and heartache, the crime and despair, But only rejoice to know, "King Booze" you are dead. Oliver C. Dalby. Salt Lake City