Steele High School - Annual Yearbook (Dayton, OH)

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THE ANNUAL Page nineteen The little boy across the way was awake now and sat staring at Peter. Peter held out his hand, but the boy stuck out his tongue. Don't do that, Adolphusf' The mother shook him roughly. The old man won't hurt you. He's too trembly and weak to bother you. He ought to be in some asylum 'stead of travellin' around at his age. Peter sank back in the seat. It was true then. He had thought it might be a mistake. He always felt strong despite his white hairs, but now it must be true. He looked out the window. Houses were coming in sight. Here was the city at last! How crowded everything was. In the country-but then he must not think of the country. No, he had come to live in the city and perhaps he would become used to it. The train stopped. The passen- gers crowded into the aisle. Peter grasped his valise more tightly. The crowd was nearly out now. Peter hurried after. Cab, sir? Peter looked up politely. People in the city are always polite. No, I don't believe I'll take one this morning, thank you, he said apol- ogetically. The man stared at him so hard that poor Peter was greatly embarrassed. He hurried to the sidewalk. I donit know just which way I'd better go,', he said to himself. I sup- pose it must be one of those big buildin's over there. The little old man started off, but being pushed and shoved by the crowds of people so exhausted him that he leaned against a lamp-post to rest. I must be gettin' weak, he sighed, weak and trembly. I used to hoe the taters back at the old place and plow the I-ields with the best of 'em, but I'm weak and trembly now. What's the trouble, old man? A kind-faced gentleman took him by the arm. The hurrying people looked at them curiously, but Peter did not care. It was good to have some one to lean upon. I was looking for-for the 'Old Men's Home,' he said, half ashamed and yet proudly enough. Perhaps you know where 'tis and can tell me, sir. Well, yes, I can.'i The gentleman paused. ' Oh, I'm so glad, sir. Peter now spoke almost eagerly. You see, I'm anxious to get there 'cause its pretty timesome travelin' this hot weather. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. ' Are you alone? the gentleman asked. Oh, yes, said Peter, 'Tm alone, but I reckon if you show me the way I can Find it all right. Is it very far ? Yes, it is rather far, too far for you to walk, but we'll manage some way, the gentleman replied. Here, Jim. d A cab drew up at the curb and the man helped Peter in and closed the oor.

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Page eighteen THE ANNUAL PETER By MARGARET E. HOWARD i' ET ER brushed a speck of dust from his coat sleeve. It was a hot july afternoon. It can't be the train is late, he said to himself, clutching the little old valise nervously. The breath of the coun- try was in the air. A bird whistled on a tree near by the little waiting-room. I'11 miss the old place, no doubt, he said tremu- lously, but, his lips grew iirm, I've made up my mind. The train whistled and soon came puffing up to the little station. The journey was before him. He turned and looked back down the old road he knew so well. A buggy was coming. He climbed huriedly into the train, and then gazed anxiously about. In one corner a tired-looking mother was holding a little boy. He was sleeping, but for a moment Peter was startled. The boy reminded him of Johnny. johnny'1l miss his old grandad, he sighed. He took a seat where he could have an occasional glimpse of the boy. The other passengers regarded the little old man with some curiosity at first, but soon returned to their daily papers or their naps. Peter still held his valise tightly. The train started. The windows were open but the air was sultry. He longed for the shady woods by the old farm. Johnny 'll want me to fix his pole so he can iish in the little brook, he said sadly, but mebbe the hired man 'll have time to 'tend to it. He looked out the window but the green fields seemed to call him away from the present and so he fell asleep. Tickets. Peter woke with a start. Have we come? he said. Tickets, The conductor looked bored. Peter opened the valise. There was nothing in it but a clean oollar and a few handkerchiefs. Any time, growled the conductor. Peter looked dazed. He fumbled in each pocket of his coat and Finally with a triumphant smile pulled out an old sock. Very carefully he took out 3 purse and handed it to the conductor. I guess there's enough, he said hesitatingly. The conductor opened the purse gingerly, counted the small coins and handed it back to Peter. Peter was relieved. He placed it carefully-almost tenderly in the old sock.

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P330 YWCFWY THE ANNUAL To the 'Old Men's Home,' Jim. Peter struggled with the door. Wait, wait, he called. The driver opened the door. I wish to thank the gentleman, he said. Oh, that's all right. The two men, Peter and the tall, broad-shouldered gentleman, shook hands. Come and see me, called Peter, as the cab-door slammed. What would Annie think if she could see me? Peter spoke the name softly. That was a mighty nice gentleman and this is a fine carriage to be ridin' in. Perhaps it wont be such a bad place to live after all. Peter peered out the window. T he houses is gettin' fewer. Why, I do believe it is the country after all. In a few minutes the cab stopped. The driver threw open the door and helped Peter out. Peter still carried the old valise. Sloping from the side- walk was a green lawn, and far back among beautiful old trees was a lrge building. Peter thanked the driver and started up the walk. There was no one in sight. Taking their naps, I guess. Peter spoke almost joyously now. It's almost like the country, he said. He sat down on the porch steps and fanned himself with his hat. What can I do for you? Peter started. He had almost forgotten why he had come. Turning, he saw a middle-aged man standing in the door-way. Howdy, Peter advanced towards him. I just come here to live, he said, and was admirin' the place. You've got things fixed up most like the country. Step into the office. The man beckoned and Peter followed him into the office where he sat twirling his hat uneasily. Where are your entrance papers? Peter looked dazed. Who sent you here ? The man was becoming impatient, Peter stopped twirling his hat. He regarded the man gravely. Nobody sent me, nobody knows I come, he said, but I thought I would, yes, it is better so. Why do you keep me here answerin' questions ? The man looked at Peter solemnly. You can't stay, he said, without the papers. We're too crowded, any wa . yPeter's face filled with dismay. His features were drawn as though he was in great pam. Can't stay, he repeated, can't stay.