Jasper County Democrat, Volume 9, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 September 1906 — ON WILLIE'S ACCOUNT [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

ON WILLIE'S ACCOUNT

Ky BEATRICE STURGES

Willie sat on the steps In a distinctly unhappy mood. It was the first of July, bright and beautiful. The garden was ablaze with flowers and he could pick as mapy as he wanted. His ball and books and little fire engine lay on the porch beside him, and his collie pup was begging him to come and play, but Willie had no heart for any of these attractions. He was grieved. What was the use, he reflected, of being the only child if your father and mother go away for two weeks and leave you at home? What was the use of having a young aunt stay at your house if she shut herself up in her room and wouldn’t come

downstairs? And what was the use of being alive at all when the circus was coming to town in three days and no body had invited you to go? Life was full of terrible problems. He was Just wondering if be hadn’t better cry about it when be saw a friend coming down the street and hastily changed his mind. — r“— —— » —- This friend was no less a person than Max Harwood, chief of the volunteer Are department of Norwood, commodore of the local yachting club and a hero in Willie's eyes. By some mysterious coincidence Commodore Max appeared on the scene with great promptness and frequency whenever Willie’s aunt. Miss Marjory Dean, came for a visit, and as these visits had been rather numerous during the year Just passed Willie knew him well enough to rummage through his pockets and to boast about their intimacy whenever any of the other boys needed a little wind taMfrn out of their sails. To Willie’s surprise Max was passing with merely a wave of the hand, so the little .toy Jumped up and ran after him. “Hello, Napoleon!” cheerily called his hero. It was his fancy to call Willie by the names of the world’s great generals, one after another. “Good morning, commodore; aren’t you coming in to see us?” “Guess not, Hannibal; it's pretty early for company.” "You have toen earlier than this," said the child reproachfully. “Well—er —Fra kind of busy this morning”— Willie was turning away to hide the hurt look in his eyes. Nobody wanted to bother him. Max saw this and hastily added: “But get your cap and come along. Frn going down to fix up the boat. You can help me.” The delighted child raced back to the house for his cap and then was off hand in hand with the commodore, happy as a lark. They worked all the morning on the boat and then the commodore took Willie up the river for a sail. “Are you going to the circus, Agamemnon?” inquired Max, by way of conversation. With a recurrent touch of gloom Willie was forced to admit that he didn’t think he was. “Well, I’d like to take somebody of Just about your slxe,” went on his host, “and I think that somebody is you. What do you say, my hearty ?” “Fine! Fine!” shouted Willie. “Well, heave ho, there, and we’U splice the main brace. Keep out of the lee scuppers while I hoist the mainsail. Ha! Ulysses, what do you think of that?” And Max, who loved to mix up nautical terms for Willie’s entertainment, made the cleanest kind of a landing at bis own pier. “Did you ever shiver your timbers, commodore?” asked Willie. “Lots of times, Wellington, and still live to tell the tale. Don’t forget about the Fourth—side shows, fat lady, peanuts, elephants, *lnk lemonade—we’ll see it all.” “Indeed 1 won’t!’’ cried the child, wild with delight as he raced Into the house to tell bis aunt. Bbe was watching for him anxiously. “Oh, Willie boy, where have you

been all the morning?” she exclaimed, kissing him. He told her breathlessly, and she listened to his admiration of the commodore with rising color. “Isn’t he perfectly splendid, Aunt Marjorie? They say there are ten elephaiU| and the lions growl something awfsf But I won’t be afraid with the commodore. Only I wish you were coming too. Wouldn’t you like It? I’tn§Bure he’d take you, too, If you asked him.” “No, honey, I—l don’t think so. I don’t eipect to see the commodore again; we—we aren’t friends any more.” “Oh, auntie!” exclaimed Willie, in genuine dismay. “And he’s so good too.” Willie thought for a minute that his Aunt Marjorie was going to cry, and then he was surprised to hear her say in a manner, singularly unlike her usual gentleness. “Maybe some people think he is good, but I know his true character, and I do not think you ought to go around alone with him.” This speech was rendered with all the dignity that a woman of the world, aged nineteen, could muster. “You went with him alone to lots of places,” complained Willie. “You went last night.” “Yes, and that’s just the reason I’m not going again. If a man takes a girl to a dance and forgets her he will certainly forget a little boy when he takes him to the circus, and then what would happen to you?” Really this was awful. Willie had never seen his dear little aunt in such a state, but she was very sweet to him and took him out driving that afternoon, stopping in the village to buy him candy and lots of fireworks for the B'ourtli. lie didn’t know what to think about his beloved commodore, but saw him the next day and promptly repeated the whole conversation. It seemed to him the simplest way out of the difficulty. “Did you forget, commodore?” he Insisted. “Great Scott, Willie, maybe I did; she says so; but she wasn’t lonesome,” he said grimly. “Girls are queer creatures, Wellington; you'll find that out some day. But don't say another wqrd about the circus. I’ll fix It some way. You’re going to see it as sure as your name is Vlucingetorix.” So Willie kept his counsel and was petted much by his auntie for the next two days. On the morning of the Fourth he was flrlug off his crackers from the opeu window in his little nightclothes at 4 o’clock, and Marjorie said never a word of complaint. She had made up her mind to take him to the circus herself and to get away early to avoid any possible conflict with her former great friend, the commodore—now a stranger forever. • Before lunch was over, however, the commodore’s touring car stopped at the door and the commodore was standing on the porch, cap in band, announcing that he had come. “Yes, I see,” returned Marjorie coolly, but deliberately avoiding his gaze. Max had such a way of looking at one. “But what for?” “Why, to take my friend Julius Caesar to the circus.” Willie looked anxiously from one to the other In an ecstasy of hope aud suspense. “I told Willie”— “Yes, I know,” he interrupted, "but if you come, too, It will be all right.” “Oh, yes, auntie!” cried Willie, jumping with joyful anticipation. Marjorie trisjl hard to look cold and dignified. “Would you BiH>il that child’s day?” asked the commodore, coming closer. “Marjorie, please!” Ills eyes urged her as well as his voice. She looked at him. “AH right. I’ll go. But It's just on Willie’s account.” “Any reason will do,” responded Max as he helped her into the car. “But maybe you can find a better oue before we get borne. I'm going to ride back here with you and William.” He lifted the delighted child, gave him a hug, and put him in the front seat with the chauffeur. “William the Conqueror Is going to have the time of his life.”

WILLIS LOOKED ANXIOUSLY FROM ONE TO THE OTHER.