Madera Union High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Madera, CA)

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look afther him. Would ye loike t stay here wid me, sonnie, an’ play wid my Mike?” Peter watched her wistfully, “Can Jim stay too?” “Jim? Oh, yer dog. dog-house back 0’ the barn, an’ all the rats he can eat.” Shure an’ we’ve a foine “Why then, thank you mam, an’ we'll stay ;” and Peter held out a grubby little hand to seal the bargain. Mrs. Kelly wiped her eyes on her apron, as she looked at the tiny, dirty, solemn little figure. “Shure, an’ thet’s all right, sonny,” she said hastily. “An’ now first ye’ll be wantin’ a good wash, I’m thinking. Looks loike ye’ve traveled a good bit since ye had yer last one. Ye'd better come right in wid me now. No, no,” as Peter picked up Jim, “lave yer dog outside. Il] not have the loikes 07 him amakin’ tracks in me clean house.” Peter stopped. “But Jim’s dirty too, same’s me; am he likes a bath.” “Shure an’ he don’t look it. But take him out t’ the pond. Mikie’ll show ye where ‘tis, an’ ye can wash him there; an’ then come back in an’ I'll be ready fer ye.” And so Peter and Jim were duly established in the Kelly household. To be sure, at first they didn’t remember that Peter and: Jim belonged ; but their lesson came that night. Mrs. Kelly had called the boy in to go to bed, and when she saw Peter approaching with Jim under his arm, she said: “Shure now, sonnie, ain’t I said thet I don’t want the loikes o’ him in my clean house? Put him in his box back o’ the barn, an’ come in.” “But,” Peter objected, “Jim an’ me allas sleeps together. Jim an’ me belongs!” “Well, no mather, lad, lave him outside. Tain’t no one going t’ steal the loikes 0’ him, so ye needn’t be afraid.” Peter hesitated for a moment, then turned obediently and put Jim in his box. But before he left him he leaned down and whispered in his ear, at which Jim thumped his tail assentingly. Then Peter silently entered the house, and went to bed. Mrs. Kelly watched him doubtfully, half relent- ing, but as he said nothing more, she thought: “Shure an’ the lad won’t grieve fer the loikes 0’ sech a dog. An’ besides, he’d dirty my clean bed all up, any way.” But the next morning when she came into the room, Peter was gone. Mrs. Kelly was alarmed. “Mike, Mike,” she shook her eldest vigorously, “where’s the lad gone?” Mike looked up drowsily, “I don’t know. He was here last night.” “Hum! I know thet much myself,” and she stood thinking for a moment. hen, “Now | wonder,” she said, and walked kastily out of the room down to the barn where the dog-house was. There lay Peter, a faint smile on his face and Jim clasped tightly to him. Mrs. Kelly said no word, but leaning down she picked up the two lit- tle forms, carried them into the house, and placed them gently on the bed. “Shure an’ I guess the lad’ll have t’ have his dog ef there’s t’ be peace in the house,” she said softly as she stroked the damp curls off Peter’s warm, flushed little brow. And so Jim was installed as a privileged member of the household, and the Kellys came to understand that Peter and Jim belonged. Under the guardian wing of Mike, Peter was introduced to the townspeople, and soon the kind- ly villagers learned to watch for, and welcome the coming of the wistful, lonely little lad and the scrubby, mischievous little dog. And Peter and Jim soon came to like them too, but best of all they loved old Doctor Tom ; Peter because the Doc- tor was the only one who understood the shy little fellow, and Jim because Doctor Tom never failed to shake his little paw when they met. As for Doc- tor Tom—he had been the first to learn that Mrs. Kelly had taken another into her brood, had come to remonstrate, and stayed to beg for Peter for his own. But big-hearted, motherly Mrs. Kelly already was beginning to love the lad as one of her own, and refused to give him up. Old Doctor Tom used to come by the Kelly house sometimes on bright mornings, and stopping his horse, would call out gaily in his deep voice, “Any little boy here with brown curls who wants to go riding ?” And Peter would come rushing around the corner, Jim yelping under one arm, and shout. “Me! me!” “Well, hop in,’ Doe Tom would say, his eyes twinkling, “but that dog stays here. Won’t have any scrubby pups in my buggy. No siree!” Then Peter’s face would fall, and his lips quiv-

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Peter and Jim. LOUISE MEILIKE They had comé from “down thé road a piece” with a backward nod and a motion down the dusty, winding lane—and were “jest walkin’ along’”— Peter and Jim. It had been’ a bright, sunshiny April morning when they had first appeared in the little village, unheralded and unknown, and it was grey December when they left—loved and mourned. “Which goes to prove,” the old doctor would say, “that nature is always in harmony.” But that is getting ahead of our story. It was on this bright April morning that Mrs. Kelly, rosy and motherly looking, her hard, red arms elbow-deep in suds from the morning’s wash, had looked up suddenly, with the feeling that she was being watched, and had seen two little figures gazing longly at her through the palings of the gate—Peter and Jim. Peter, a little, slender lad, with a dirty, wistful face, tousled, curly hair, and appealing brown eyes ; Jim, a scrubby, dusty-white little dog, with a great black spot that covered one wiggling little ear and one mischievous little eve, and a stubby, wagging tail. “Shure now, sonnie, an’ whut moight ye be wanting this foine spring morning?” Mrs. Kelly called cheerily to them. “Somethin’ t? eat, please mam, cause me an’ Jim are awful hungry,” and the two little figures moved closer. “T’ eat? Why bless yer little heart, shure an’ ye can! Jest ye come in an’ set on the steps a min- ute, an’ [ll have ye some bread an’ butter in a jiffy,” and Mrs. Kelly, wiping her dripping arms on her apron, hurried into the house, as the two little wanderers seated themselves on the broad steps. Peter with his elbows on his knees, his tiny fists propping up the dirty little chin, and Jim by his side, his stubby little tail thumping sedately. Presently the screen door opened again, and Mrs. Kelly re-appeared, a plate of bread and butter held high in her hand. About her skirts swarmed a train of noisy, red-headed youngsters, who stood silently staring at the little strangers, their fingers in their mouths. Peter took the plate with a shy “thank you, mam,” and then dividing it into half, shared with Jim. At the sight Mrs. Kelly raised her arms in eco- nomical horror. “Shure, boy, an’ ef I’d know’d ye was aimin’ t’ feed yer dog wid the loikes 0’ sech bread, ’'d niver have brought it out. Ye can’t be very hungry yerself.” Startled, Peter raised his head and stared in bewilderment. “Why, Jim’s hungry same’s me. I allas shares with Jim; him an’ me belong, don’t we Jim?” and he looked at his little comrade for sup- port. But Jim only wiggled his spotted ear, and thumped his stubby tail, too busy to assent in any other way. Mrs. Kelly snorted, and returned to her wash- ing. “Where do ye come from, laddie?” “Oh, jest down the road a piece.” “Where’s yer folks?” “My folks?” in puzzled questioning. “Yer parents, relaytions—Who do ye belong to 2?” “Oh,” Peter breathed a sigh of relief, “me aw’ Jim belong.” “Jim? Jim? Oh, yer pup.” “Jim ain’t no pup,” indignantly; “he’s a real blue-blooded fox terryer, ain’t you Jim ?” “Shure,” Mrs. Kelly remarked dryly, “I don’t set up fer t’ be a jedge o’ animals, but that dog 0 yours don’t strike me as no blue-blooded. No siree! But whut I means, ain’t ve got no father ner mother, sonnie?” Peter shook his head. “Then where moight ye be going? T” visit wid some friends, loikely ?” Peter shook his head again. ‘“No’m, we’re jest walkin’ along, me ’n Jim.” Mrs. Kelly placed both hands on her hips. “An’ ye mean t’ tell me, sonnie, thet ye’re jest atrampin’ along, wid out no folks ner sech t’ care fer ye? Shure an’ I’ve a brood 0’ me own,” and she glanced at her own three healthy youngsters, “but ye’re welcome t’ stay here ef ye’ve a mind t’, till we sees whut’s t’ be done. No little youngster loike ve can go gaddin’ about wid nary a soul t’

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r 7 er, as he would slowly draw back and say, “I guess I can’t go then, thank you sir, cause me ’n Jim we belong!” always goes together “There, there,” old Doc Tom would cry hastily, “[ was only joking. Hop in. Why, we couldn’t go without Jim, no siree! This old horse would pos- itively refuse to move! He would!” Then Peter’s face would be fairly transfigured with joy, and he would clamber excitedly in, hug- ging Jim tightly to him. Pretty soon old Doe Tom would lean forward and say, “Peter, you reach in my left-hand coat pocket, will you, an’ see what’s in there. I feel something poking my old bones.” And Peter would stick his hand eagerly in and pull out, with a delighted squeal, two great pepper- mint suckers—one for him, and one for Jim. Then when they were far out in the country, old Doc Tom would let Peter drive, and how they would fly—the kindly, silver-haired man, and the little eager boy, his curls flying behind him in the wind, his eyes shining with joy and excitement. and between them the little mischievous, scrubby dog, his ear wiggling joyfully and his tail thump- ing vigorously. And after the doctor had made his calls, they would make a big turn and come along by the river up to the Kelly’s, where Peter and Jim would get out till “next time.” Then came a day when all this was changed. Mrs. Nelly was standing in her front yard watering the lawn when suddenly she looked up and saw Peter come stumbling blindly toward her, tears running down the little cheeks, gasping sobs coming from the little breast ; and in his arms was clasped tightly a white, bloody little body—Jim! Mrs. Kelly rushed toward him. “Why Peter, Peter, laddie, shure an’ whut’s happened? Why, sonnie, sonnie, don’t cry so. Is it Jim? Shot, ye say; an’ dead too,” feeling the little form already growing cold. “Come, come, laddie, give him to me.” She tried to take the little body; but Peter shook his head and sobbing laid his cheek against the cold little ear. He ran into the house, and throwing himself upon the bed called again and again the name of his little comrade. “Peter, Peter,” Mrs. Kelly cried in distrac- tion, “shure don’t ery so, laddie; I'll git ye another dog tomorrow.” But Peter only shook his head. “T want Jim,” —2 he sobbed, “I want Jim. Jim an’ me belongs! Why don’t he open his eyes, Mrs. Kelly? Why don’t he bark or move? He ain’t dead, Mrs. Kelly ; oh, say he ain’t dead.” Mrs. Kelly shook her head sorrowfully, “Shure lad, an’ I only wish I could say he ain’t dead. But he is. Come, come, laddie, Mike an’ you an’ me'll give him a foine funeral and make him a rale stone for his grave; an’ maybe I’ll give ye some 0” my sweet-peas fer a wreath. There, there Peter, we'll git ye another dog tomorrow.” But Peter made no answer; he only lay sobbing wildly, clasping Jim closely to him. Almost frantic Mrs. Kelly sent for Doctor Tom, and the old man came sadly, to give comfort where none could be given. They buried Jim the next day in the little churchyard, and Peter lay all day beside the grav e refusing to leave his little comrade. “Me an’ Jim belong,” he would repeat over and over again to poor Mrs. Kelly. “Me an’ Jim belong. Oh, Mrs. Kelly, I wish I could go where Jim is, I wish I could go where Jim is.” The days passed, and each day Peter grew a little paler, a little more wan. He only smiled piti- fully and shook his head when the anxious old Doctor brought him a dog as near like Jim as was to be found in the county. He never asked to drive anymore when the old Doctor took him rid- ing; and when Doctor Tom would ask him if he didn’t want to, he would take the reins in such a listless fashion, and with such pale. thin little hands that the old Doctor’s heart ached to watch him. At length the day came when he no longer got up from bed in the morning, but lay all day silent- lv looking out toward the little green where Jim lay. Mrs. Kelly, heartsick, would come in every morning with a tempting tray, arranged as well as she knew how, but Peter would only take a few bites and then lay back on his pillow, with a wan little, “You mustn’t fix me, Mrs. Kelly.” And Mrs. Kelly, tears in her eyes, would answer. “Oh Peter, Peter, Pd fix all day ef only ve’d get better.” Then came a morning when Mrs. Kelly went in to see how he was, and found him lying silent, motionless, a smile on his lips, and his thin little arms by his sides as though they had been ex- so much extra for a