Newport High School - Blunita Yearbook (Newport, PA)

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12 THE BLUE AND WHITE fore. So little Nell had continued to room at the poor boarding house and work at the bank, while she saw her husband but seldom. Then came a great opportunity, planned by the wise old father, and the son went away to work in a distant city. At first he sent money regularly to his bride for her support. As time went on, new interests claimed his attention, and so the father thought less and less cf his wife back home. When the little son was born Nell wrote to her husband of the great event. After that she no longer heard from him and soon lost track of him entirely. By struggling desperately, Nell had managed to live until her boy was ten years old; and then when she passed into the country beyond, she left her son with nothing but a picture of his father. The boy knew merely that the face smiling into his eyes was lhat of his father, for his mother had often told him about “father. After her death he had been alone, homeless, and friendless in a large city. At last, when the boy could endure the cold no longer, he would c'.ing close to the wall of some building with the dog In his arms. Spotty,” he said gently, “Spotty, that’s my father! Ain’t ho grand! Nope, I don’t 'know his name, but Nellie, that's ma, you know, when she died she told me to find him, and gave me this picture. And when we find him Spots, we’ll live in a big house with carpet and servants and all! Gee, Spots, there’ll be a nice house for you, and heaps of bones and meat. Gee whiz!” the boy sighed, and his voice broke, while the picture in his cold hand fell to the pavement. Suddenly a gust of wind swept it into the street. Must he let the wind carry away [what meant the only chance of finding “father.” No never. He ran in pursuit and the dog gave chase. “Get it, Spots!” But just as the dog’s teeth sank into the paper there came a sudden blur of light, a grating sound of brakes and of heavy wheels, and of a dog’s howl of pain “Spotty.” With a great sobbing cry the boy rushed to the dog and gathered him up in his arms, just as the dog whimpered his last. Then for the first time in years the little boy cried, with the body of his faithful dog in his arms. “Look here, son.” A man's kind voice broke in. “I’m dreadfully sorry, but maybe I can do something for your dog if you’ll let me.” The boy raised dark angry eyes to the gentleman bending over him, and the angry look left his eyes, for the man looking down upon him was the man in the picture. “Gee,” the boy whispered, “my father!” As the words left his lips the man who had been smiling gravely, suddenly looked at the boy intently, while a vivid picture of the little girl, whom he had so long ago married came

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THE BLUE AND WHITE 11 The small, furry bundle in the boy’s arms wagged its tall and licked the boy’s face. Rut the boy could not play with his small companion for there were still 'three more papers to sell before he could leave the cold, windy streets. Down, Spots!” Then summoning all his energy, he cried aloud, “Papers, sir! Papers! Last edition! Here, mister! Ah, just two more left!” He was cold—so cold, and hungry! He moved about continually and beat his hands together in an effort to keep warm for the wind '.hat bleak, wintry day, went through even a fur coat. And now, with twilight appeared the weary working crowds, their faces alight with the thought of the warm, cozy homes to which they were going. Home! There was but one paper left now. If he could only sell it, and be done until tomorrow! The little dog, crouching at his feet began to whimper, but one sharp word from the boy stopped him. “Cut it out! Quit it! You’re not the only one that’s cold! (lee, my fingers! Oh, Spots, if you was only a classy dog, one of ’em that wins prizes on their looks, maybe we wouldn’t need to be here now! Bu't you’re just a common dog. Why can’t you do somethin’ great?’’ The dog, his tail between Ins legs, his big, faithful eyes fixed on the boy's face in questionless devotion begged to -oe restored to favor again. “Aw, Spottie, I didn’t mean it! ' You’re all right; don’t know wha’t I’d do without ye.” Tears choked the boy’s voice and as he suddenly stopped speaking, he drew, quite unconsciously, from his pocket a picture of a young man, whose thin face and large deep eyes Inspired confidence and trust. The boy’s eyes were tender as he gazed upon the photograph. And had anyone looked closely at the picture and then at the little newsboy, he would have noticed a great resemblance. Father!” the boy murmured softly. “It sounds nice,” he added to the dog. Poor little boy! If he only knew! but how could he know tha't long before, about fourteen years before, the man upon .whom he looked had been the son of a wealthy man, and had braved his father’s displeasure by marrying little Nellie Hartman, a stenographer in his father’s bank. But the father, unlike the father's we read about, had not disowned his son or cut him ofT without a penny.” Having a knowledge of human nature, h»- had offered his son a lowly position in the bank and told him to go ahead and support his wife. But, by and by, the man found that supporting another besides himself was quite a job for one who had never worked be-

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THE BLUE AND WHITE 13 before him. Then the boy, with trembling hand, held the torn photograph up 1 o the man and with a voice that choked with tears cried, “Look, look! You must be my father. The boy did not hear the reply, because the tired little body, who had for many years been without the touch of kindly hands felt itself crushed against a big coat and a voice choked with i motion cried, “My son! Nell’s boy! God only knows how I’ve suffered for my mistake.” finally after the man had satisfied himself with the boy’s identity, he said softly, “Come, son you must come home. The little boy pointed to the still body of his pal but couldn’t say anything. The man seemed to understand, for he said gently, “Yes son, the little dog shall go too.” Thus in the great monster that had blotted out the little dog’s life, the bey, wrapptd in a w-aim wooly blanket with the silent little friend in his arms, was taken aw'ay to a newf home. Looking up at the sky in order to blink back the tears that choked him, he seemed to see in the tiny star looking down upon him in benediction and happiness, the face of the common little cur—“Spotty.