Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 128, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 May 1916 — “Old Andy” [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

“Old Andy”

By EVA VANE

(Copyright, IMB, by W. O. Chapman.) “It is the only way, John, dear, and you must not rebel. Only four months —why, it will pass before we know it!” i The man addressed bowed his head and was silent. Pride and manliness were sorely wounded. He had come squarely up against a situation neither had apprehended. Indecision, actual poverty shut them in completely. But Rhoda, brave, hopeful, industrious, suggested the way out.

They had been married in a quiet way only three months agone. Then John Bascom had what he considered a life Job with the furniture factory people, where he had been employed for two years. He had saved a little, but this had gone to furnish the humble iittle home they had rented. Then had come disaster. The factory had burned down one night. All work was suspended until it could be rebuilt. “You see, John, we must not give up,” Rhoda had said. “We owe nearly seventy dollars, that we counted on paying out of next month’s salary.” “And there is no next month’s salary!” submitted John desolately. “Unless I earn It!” cried Rhoda cheerily—“and that I can do. I will simply go back to Bellville and take my eld positron In the millinery store. You know I got good pay. There Is no such chance for me here in 'Haunton. In the meantime you must look after the house here.” "And have it said that I am living on my wife?” resented John —“never!” But Rhoda had finally prevailed. They must not break up, she insisted. And then John asked a pertinent question: "And what about Teddy?” For a moment Rhoda’s fair brow wrinkled with perplexity and concern.

Teddy was a waif, an orphan who had limped into Taunton Just after the wedding, ragged, hungry, with no past worth remembering, and no friends. The forlorn little tramp had come asking for food at the door. He had been welcome to it—and more. He was bright, accommodating, grateful. They had practically adopted him, had dressed him, had sent him to school, and his laughing ways had made him quite an Institution in the little home. “You must try and keep him with you, John. We should miss him dreadfully in the better days to come, if we sent him away now. There he is now,” and the gay ringing voice of their protege echoed outside, hailing some playmates. “Hey, was the circus good?” he was calling out. ! “Dandy!” came the prompt response. “Such a clown —and, say, the animals! There was an elephant as big as a house. And, say, the lion! My! but he was. fierce, and growled, and roared, and tore, as the keeper whipped him about the cage.” It was decided that Rhoda should leave three days later. The decision got about the town, and Ted heard of it at school. He came home crying, and Rhoda had to tell him the whole story. “If I could only work to help you,” sobbed the faithful Teddy. “Say, <jan’t I, mother? Say, I can help anyway. I can do with one meal a day. I’ve done it in the old days, many a time.” “Just be good and kind to John,” Mrs. Bascojn Bald. "He is greatly worried/' "You bet I will!” declared Ted. He was silent and thoughtful after that. The next evening, however, when he came home from school he was on nettles with some intense secret excitement. Rhoda attributed it jto her pending departure. If she had only known! For not a wink of sleep did Ted have that night. He would smile, as if in eager anticipation of some approaching event of interest and importance. Then, as he got drowßy, he would give a great start, come wide awake, and far a moment would winoe

with vivid terror until he had recovered his normal wits. The next morning Ted hurried away from home, bright and early. He made two visits. One was to the town livery stable keeper, the other to a wealthy magnate who had a mansion with great grounds, and a tame fawn and a pet fox. Ted propounded a peculiar question to both of these persons. It was: “What would you give for a real live lion?*

And they laughed at him, and wondered what quaint idea had got into the little fellow's head. That night, when the others were in the house fast asleep, Ted stole cautiously down the stairs, barefooted. He visited the pantry, and then, carefully opening the back door, scudded out into the dark, rainy night. Ha returned In about half an hour. The next morning Mrs. Bascom complained of a missing loaf of bread, and Ted nearly choked on what he was eating. His mother, by adoption, stared marveling at him as he left for school. “Mother,” he said, “you won’t go away until tomorrow, will you?” “No, dear,” answered Rhoda. “Why do you ask?”

“Maybe I can raise some money by then, and you can stay with us after all, for you see —” And then he clapped his hand to his mouth as if fearful of unloosening some secret, and darted away. “Why, I do believe the boy has got some wild idea in his head, the way he acts!” spoke John, and, half an hour later, walking down the main street of the town, he was surprised to find Ted, not at school, but turning into the main printing office of the village. He followed him, to come upon Ted in a businesslike way confronting the publisher of the local paper.

John drew to one side, in- the shadow of the big printing press, as he heard Ted say to the publisher: “Mr. Brown, do you ever give a fellow credit who wants to put a little notice in your paper?” “Why, yes, Ted, at times,” pleasantly answered Mr. Brown. “Going into business, and thinking of advertising in the Beacon?” “Oh, no, sir,” replied Ted soberly—“only I want to print a notice, and I’ve got no money, but I’m going to have a show, and that will bring in some, and then I want to sell something I’ve got, and I want you to write a little piece telling what it is.”

The proprietor was grinning, and the listening John was staring hard. “What are you driving at, Ted?” inquired the publisher; “what is it that you’ve got to sell?” “Well, I haven’t told a soul yet,” explained Ted, lowering his voice and gazing about in a mysterious way. “You see, the folks have a lot of troubles, and I want to help them, and I wanted to surprise the boys. It’s a lion.” “A —lion!” uttered the publisher in amazement. “Yes, sir—it’s funny. I was Just scared to death three nights ago, crossing the pasture lot with the old barn on it. There was a lion —yes, sir!” and Ted became desperately excited. “A real, big, live lion! I slammed the door shut on him and then looked in at the window. The lion didn’t roar, like the books say. He sort of whined. I’ve been feeding him since, and I’ve got right in with him. He’s tame as a cow. And I’m going to have a show and charge two cents.”

"Ted, what color Is your lion?” demanded Mr. Brown, seizing Ted’s arm, and the excited one now. “Yellow, with a white nose, and —” “I declare!” gasped the publisher. And Just then he caught sight of Mr. Bascom. “I say!” he hailed him —• “this fine lad of yours has made a lucky find. Look here!” % The publisher stepped to one side and lifted from a freshly printed pile a handbill Just ready for distribution. It offered three hundred dollars for the return to the show at Bellville of Old Andy, the escaped menagerie lion. “Crackety!” exploded loyal Ted, all grins and chuckles as it was made plain to him that he was rich —for a boy. “Take it all!” he cried, with tears of Joy, to John. “Oh, but I’m glad and happy! ''And mother —she won’t have to go away, after all!” “Bread on the waters!” solemnly observed the impressionable publisher. “The incident will make a fine editorial.”

“Why Do You Ask?”