With Saw and Saw-Horse

With Saw and Saw-Horse By F. H. Sweet ! "S-s-sh-wish s-s-sh-er-wish " gnawed the saw teeth through !

the remaining half of the oak stick, and presently the divided half joined the two pieces already on the ground. One of the four-foot sticks sawed three times made it of stove-wood size. As the wood-sawyer placed another stick on the sawhorse and sunk the teeth of the saw in with a long downward stroke, a woman appeared in the kitchen doorway beyond the wood- pile. She watched the workman critically until four more stove- wood sizes dropped upon the others. Then she came out, fol- lowed by a young woman. "You saw it very nicely," she approved. "Did Bobby Evans send you?" "No," adding, "Bobby Evans? Who is he, Dr. Joe's son?" "Yes. The doctor took small pox from one of his patients, and died. He was too tender-hearted to insist on his sick people paying, so left nothing. Bobby's supposed to be trying to help his mother, but is lazy and shirks jobs, after he takes them. He asked to cut the wood, and I promised it to him." "But that was over a week ago, mother," reminded the girl. "You've sent word to him twice since then, and yesterday he was sneaking down the alley when I saw and called him. But he dodged from sight. You needn't count on Bob for anything." " I'm afraid not," regretted her mother. "Still, I don't like to promise a job and not keep it, unless I'm sure. I'll slip across the street to their home and ask Bobby's mother, then come right back. I do need the wood cut at once, for we're all out, and my husband is in bed with a broken leg. But how came you to start in," curiously, "if no one hired or asked you?" "Well, partly because I heard yesterday that your husband was in bed with a broken leg," answered the man. "When I passed along the sidewalk with my outfit just now and noticed this pile of cordwood, I remembered the leg and came in." "But you don't know my husband," wonderingly "what — are you laughing at, Florence?" The man had looked toward Florence, too, inquiringly. But at the mother's words his own face had taken on a sort of half grin, which the woman stared at a moment, then exclaimed: "I ought to know that grin. Aren't you John Lambert's son — Billy? Did you know him, Florence? Is that what you're laughing at?"

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"Yes, and I've been waiting to see if he would know me," laughed the girl. "One couldn't be dragged on her sled so much as he did me and not recognize her horse. But I've changed a lot more than he has, of course." The man placed his saw against the sawhorse and advanced with outstretched hand. "So you're Florry," he exclaimed. "No, I didn't know you, not even when your mother said 'Florence.' I never thought of you by the full name. You were just a little fat lump of fun and cute sayings, and I a big overgrown 17 year-old who had the good sense to appreciate you." "Good nature not to repulse me," nodded the girl, her hand in his. "After you picked me out of the snow that day, and fixed me nicely on your sled, and pulled me all the way to the kinder- garten door of the school, I'm afraid I became very devoted, and expected and exacted everything from you. And you fulfilled all my expectations, dragging me to school regularly every day through the winter, and helping me in the summer. Don't you remember? I guess I was fat and given to tumbling on the least provocation. But it was funny. I was 5 and you 17, and they called you my knight because you wouldn't go with any of the big girls. Some said you were too bashful. But I know better. When the teacher was going to whip me because I persisted in laughing out loud, you walked up to him and said if he did you'd whip him. Remember? And when two of the prettiest big girls were scared to leave the school on account of some drunken men fighting in the street, you went and took them by the arms and led them right past. They thought you were awful brave, and showed they were willing for you to go round with them more. But you never did." "Maybe it was on account of you," he smiled. "No, it wasn't," positively. "It was just that you didn't care for girls^-or no, I guess it was because you had a great big am- bition. You were going off to make your own way, and make it big. You talked it over with me, though I was only a little tot, and I don't think you did with any ond else. Generally you were pretty quiet when out with people, though you weren't bashful. You held your head too high and had too straight a look for that. I was only seven when you went away, right after your mother died. But I've never forgotten the wonderful stories you told me. For years I think I sort of mixed you with Dick Whittington going to London." — "I remember you were a good listener, Florry Miss Flor- ence, I mean. And I know I was a sad brag. It's so easy to brag when young and starting out to conquer. The humbleness comes with the return, when the big things are left behind."

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"You were not —successful, then?" a troubled look coming to her face, and her eyes dropping involuntarily to the saw and sawhorse. "I'm so sorry. I don't believe there ever was a boy who went forth better fitted and more confident and brave." "Very few reach the real heights of their dreaming* I'm afraid, Florry," he answered. "It's good to have the dreaming, however, for it makes the effort more single hearted and pure and is a help over some of the quicksands. But here comes news of Bobby." The girl's mother was entering the side gate, and came straight across to the woodpile. "Bobby's taken a job at catching bait for some fishing visit- ors," she said, as she joined them. "It don't pay him much, but it's congenial work and will last through the month the visitors

are here. So all Bobby's other jobs are off, I suppose. His mother's getting real worried about the boy. I'll be glad for you to finish the wood, if you will, Mr. Lambert." "Billy, please. In all the sixteen years I've been away I didn't hear 'Billy' once. I was getting homesick for it, I think; and when the doctor orderd me from work I couldn't think of anywhere better than here, though I have no kin left." "You've been sick?" asked Florence quickly. "No, except for lack of some such exercise as this, and more air. My boarding place was only a block from the office, and I had sixteen years of it, without a vacation or break. I went there a pretty husky young fellow, but no strength can withstand such a life forever. I didn't break down, though the doctor ordered me away. I've been here ten days, sawing and chopping, and already feel myself beyond any commiseration a semi-invalid. As to poor Bobby, I must look him up and see if I can't sort of chum him into better behavior. I can tell him some rather wonderful stories about his father. Joe was my school-mate and chum, you may remember, and a finer boy and man would be hard to find. So much good can't have gone wholly to waste in the boy. Bobby's been allowed to run wild and have his way, I fancy, with his good points lying dormant." "Well, I hope you can do something with him, for the sake of his mother. She and your mother and I used to be school- mates, too. Now I must hurry back to my cooking. You'll stay to dinner, Billy, when you can tell something about your city experiences. I'm real sorry they didn't turn out well, though I know 'twas the city's fault, not yours. But I do think you might have called to see us before this. Bobby's mother said she'd heard of you being in town two weeks, sawing wood down among the very poor people of the east side. I'm afraid that was a mistake, for some of 'em have a bad name for paying.

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Now I doubt if you collected half your money, Billy, did you?" "Why—er, no, I didn't," confessed Billy. "Well, 'twas a mistake," she repeated. "What you should do is to go to the north side, among the richer class, who have work and money and can stand higher charges. Even along here — we beat down the scant living wages have to, in fact, to leave enough to sort of live on ourselves. You'll stay to dinner?" "Yes, indeed. And I did call on you the very day after I got here, at the old place. They said you'd moved over this way — somewhere, and oh, well," smiling as though at a joke, "I was carrying my outfit, and soon began to notice that the few acquaintances I had found began to shun me. As an experiment I put myself in the way of others, and with hardly an exception they did the same. But it caused me to stop making calls." "Another mistake," calmly. "You should have kept on till you found us. I rather honor you for the independence of carrying your saw and sawhorse openly along the street. A good many wouldn't. And I can understand the rest, too. My hus- band met with reverses," a shadow coming to her face, "and we had to sell. He isn't a very good business man, and trusted his friends too much. They took advantage of him. They even fixed it so as to have a big mortgage on his house. Then, with the money gone, they ceased being friends and became mere creditors, and rather hard ones. So we understand, and you needn't be afraid of Florence or myself avoiding you on the street because you carry a saw and sawhorse. Now about the work. I've been depending a good deal on Bobby Evans, and have let our garden get to be a sight. After the wood's cut, if you're willing, I'll be glad to have you clean up the garden, mow the lawn, white-wash tr- henhouse, and do some other things. I'll pay what's fair."

"Why, yes, I guess I can promise to do it all," agreed Billy, a warm look in his eyes. "It fills in with the doctor's prescrip- tion of outdoor exercise." It took nearly three weeks for Billy to finish up the wood and all the neglected jobs about the place, even though Flor- ence helped a good deal in the garden and the poultry yards. At first Florence's mother had glanced at them a little doubtfully as they worked together. But presently her face cleared. Billy had been a clean bov, and his clear, straight gaze showed that he was a clean man. The wood sawing outfit was a mere detail of the outside. After that she let matters take their course. Billy had his dinner at the house every day. When all the work was finished, she sought to pay him. But Billy shook his head. "The exercise is the pay," he smiled. "People 'round here

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jumped at conclusions before I thought to explain, and then I let it go, as an experiment. The doctors advised golf, or buying a yacht, or a slow trip around the world. But they didn't appeal to me, alone. Then I thought of a saw and sawhorse, and look- ing over fences for wood to be cut. That would give me exercise and rambling over my old home town. But it has brought far more than that, my little playfellow of long ago to be a life com- panion." "Then you're not poor?" wonderingly. "Not in that sense. Financially, I won success, a very great ruccess, I suppose. But I have found money a mere incident of the life I used to dream. Florence and I will use our money in trying to realize something of that dream for ourselves and others." Waynsboro, Vermont

You Who Stand at Armageddon "And he gathered them together into a place called in the Hebrew tongue Armageddon. And the seventh angel poured out his vial into the air; and there came a great voice out of the temple of heaven, from the — throne, saying, It is done." Rev. 16:16, 17.

You who stand at Armageddon, Stalwart men with unsheathed sword, You are they whose strength and valor, Wage the battles of the Lord. You are they who bear the standard Which your sires so nobly bore, Yours the aim for which they struggled, Liberty for evermore! You who stand at Armageddon, Battling against a horde That cares not for life nor virtue, Mockers of a righteous Lord: You are they who wear the image, Of the mold divine within Enemy to naught but Avarice! Foe of none but beastial sin! You who fight at Armageddon, Naught shall stay you, you shall go Forward on your march to vanquish Hell's despotic reign of woe. When the throne of blood is banished From the earth to come no more, When shall ring the voice of Freedom, Loud and clear from shore to shore, When shall wave a glorious ensign, By the hand of Peace unfurled, We shall hail you great, immortal Saviors of a ransomed world. Grace Ingles Frost.

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