Newport High School - Blunita Yearbook (Newport, PA)

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12 THE BLUE AND WHITE “My mother is at home sick; and Jimmy and I do the wcrk. After our work is done, we pop corn and sell it to get money with which to buy medicine for mother dear.’’ Growing interested in this small history, I proceeded with my qu i-tions. “What is your name?” Mary; but most people call me, Little Miss Pop-Corn.” Well then Little Miss Pop-Corn, have you a father?’’ Here, at least, 1 nad touched . ome sensitive chord in the small heart. Her sweet mouth trembled a little as she answered, Yes, sir, bui father went away and left us seven years ago, when I was a baby, and now mother is sick, and Jimmy and 1 have to work.” “Hut, my child, have you not heard anything from him for seven years?” “Oh, yes. Last year a man came and told mother that father workeu in his mill once, and then father fell sick, and he told Mr. Parkman that he was coming home as soon as he was well, but that was almost a year ago. and he has not come.” “Do you know where this Mr. Parkman lives, Mary?” “Mother knows,” was the quiet answer. “Very well. Find out from your mother where he lives; write him a letter, and ask about your father, without letting your mother know it.” “1 can’t write; 1 only print,” was the hesitating reply. “Just as well,” said I, “do that.’’ 1 then took her around to all the neighboring oflices until she had disposed of all her corn, and both hands were full of pennies. She was so pleased with her success that her eyes sparkled with joy-and after a hearty Thank you, sir,” she walked away. Several days passed, and 1 believed that I had seen the last of Mary. Indeed, in the press of business, I had almost forgotten the child’s existence, when one morning my office door oj ened very softJy, and she stood before me. She placed on my desk a paper, which I opened and read—letters of all s zes—her letter to Mr. Parkman. After reading her letter, I looked up smiling, and said, “But, Mary, you have not told who you are, nor what your name is, nor anything about your self. Now write that down here in the corner.” She took the paper, and wrote silently for a few moments, then handed it back with this added: “I am Mary, but some call me, Little Miss Pop-Corn.” “Very well.” said I. “Now tell me where to send it and then you may go. If an answer comes I will send it to you.” I added a page or two to her letter explaining who she was, and told the unknown Mr. Parkman that he would be repaid for taking the trouble of replying to the child’s letter, if he could only see the bright, hopeful face with which the letter was sent. Again the matter escaped my mind, and as I came in one morning and looked over my mail, 1 wras for a moment surprised to find a letter directed to Miss Mary Smith.

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THE BLUE AND WHITE 11 Then lie thought of the evil-faced men he had seen earlier in the day. He leaped to the wharf and walked rapidly, but he did not know where to go. Suddenly, he rushed into the cabin of a boat from which a loud voiced conversation issued. There he saw Oliver playing poke with the three men. Lincoln seized the boy and before Oliver could realize what was happening he was on board his father’s boat a nil Lincoln was saying, Didn't you know that you could not win front those gamblers? They will follow us.” Scarcely had he spoken when the three men rushed upon them. The ruffians learned that those who earn their money honestly by physical labor cannot easily be robbed of it. for they were precipitated to the wharf quite suddenly. Lincoln and Oliver decided to make their departure at once. After they had passed through the maze of vessels, large and small, which marked the terminus of the great central artery of commerce, Lincoln asked his companion what was worrying him. The boy replied that he did not like to tell his parents about his folly. I will give you as much money as you lost so that your parents will not learn of the affair il you will promise that you will never gamble again, but my only motive is to save them from the pain such knowledge would cause,” answered Lincoln. Oliver not only made the promise but he kept it and he gave Lincoln due gratitude for having remodeled his character. LEAH SMITH. ’23. Little Miss Pop-Corn. “Please, sir, buy some pop-corn? It was a snowy, blustering day in January, and I sat at my desk writing, when a small vo ce addressed me with the above request. Not this morning,’’ I replied rather gruffly and without glancing up. “Come, Jimmy, we must go. He won’t buy any,” I heard the small voice say in a whisper. This time there wras something sadly old in the childish tones. They touched my ear and heart together- and I turned quickly. Hefore me was a figure of a little g rl, perhaps eight years old, poorly clad, and beside her a boy -her brother, as I afterwards learned—a little older than herself. She carried a small basket of puffy white corn. There was such a look of innocence in her big blue eyes that I was fairly conquered. “How much is your pop-corn, my child? 1 asked. The pretty mouth dimpled with pleasure as she replied. Two cents a cup, sir, and two cups for five cents.” I smiled at the odd reckoning, and said, “Oh. you are mistaken! You mean, I guess, three cents a cup and two cups for five cents.” She shook her head very decidedly. “No, sir. I am sure. Mother said so, and she always knows.” And who Is your mother, dear child, that she allows you to come out on such a stormy day as this?

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THE BLUE AND WHITE 13 1 sent, for the child as soon as possible, and she came. I put the letter into her hands, and told her to read it. With eager, trembling haste, she broke the envelope. A look of disappointment shadowed her face as she raid, I can’t read writing, sir; please, read it to me.’’ The letter was brief and courteous. The gentleman’s heart had been touched by the childish appeal, and he promised to do all in his power to aid Mary’s search. The letter closed: “Good-bye, my little girl, and may God bless you! If John Parkman can |o anything to make you happy, he will gladly do it.” Several weeks passed, during which time through qold and snow Mary failed not to come every morning with her basket of while treasures. One morning my door opened as usual, and, thinking it Mary on her daily round, I did not raise my eyes from my work, until a gl'ad little voice said in a triumphant tone, “He has come, sir! He has come!” I then glanced up. A man of middle age stood before me, with drooping head, downcast eyes, and a look of shame in his whole bearing. But, suddenly, a thought seemed to arouse him, and walking toward me, he said: “Sir, I thank you for bringing me back to this child; and as surely as I stand here, I promise to be the man, that I have never been before.” All this happened a year ago; and now, on Penn street, there stands a little candy shop which is doing a thriving business. Mary’s small head barely reaches above the counter, but her feet are just as active and willing, as when I first made her acquaintance. The happiness thai now exists in that humble home is all due to the chMdish perseverence, and loving trustfulness of Little Miss Pop-Corn. MAUDE JACOBS. ’24. I rose and gave her my seat, I could not let her stand She made me think of mother. With that strap in her hand. A man walking along a boardwalk noticed another man stuffing a dollar b'll down a crack. “What’s the idea?’' he asked. The other man replied, 1 just dropped a dime through this crack, and 1 want to make it w-orth while to tear up the board.” Bill “Say, Mike, do you know it’s awful hot down in Mexico where I live. It’s so hot you can fry an egg on the capitol steps.” Mike—“Oh, gee! Do you call that hot? Why it’s so hot where I live that we have to feed our chickens cracked ice to keep them from laying hard boiled eggs.” Query—“Why does a blush creep up a maiden’s cheek?” Answ'er -“Because if it ran it would kick up too much dust.”—Ex.