POLK COUNTY NEWS, TRYON. N. C.
A TALE OF THE NORTH COUNTRY
IN THE TIME OF SILAS WIGHT
IRVING BAEfl
AlTHOfc Of
ESEN HOLDEN. DRI AND I. DARREl OF THE BLESSED ISLES.
. KEEPING -UP WITH UZZJE. ETC, ETC
BARTON RUNS AWAY AND MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF
' SILAS WRIGHT, JR.
Synopsis. Barton Baynes, ah orphan, goes to live with his uncle,
Peabody Baynes. and his Aunt Deel on a farm on Rattleroad, in a
neighborhood called Lickitysplit, about the year 1826. He, meets Sally
Dunkelberg, about his own age, but socially of a class above the
Bayneses, and Is fascinated by her pretty face and fine clothes. Barton
also meets Roving Kate, known in the neighborhood as the "Silent
Woman." ''Amos Grlmshaw, a young son of the richest man in the town
ship. Is' a visitor at the Baynes home and Roving Kate tells the boys
fortunes, predicting a bright future for Barton and death on the gallows
for Amos. : ' ?
''., CHAPTER II Continued.
"Well draw him up on it -it won't
tart him any' he proposed.
I looked at, him in silence. My
krart smote me, but I hadn't courage
tm take issue with" the owner of a
Mirer watch.. When the dog began to
straggle I threw my arms about him
and cried. Aunt Deel happened to
be near. She came and saw Amos
polling at the rope and me trying to
sare the dog.
"Come right down offn that mow
tiiis minute," said she.
When we had come down and the
dog . had followed, pulling the rope
after him, Aunt Deel was pale with
anger.--"
mGo right home right home," said
to Amos. , "
Ttlr. Baynes said that he would
me up with the horses," said
Amos.
"Ye can use shanks horses ayes!
-they're good enough for you,". Aunt
Deel insisted, and so the boy went
array in disgrace
Where are your pennies?" Aunt
Deel said Ao me.
I felt in 7 my pockets but couldn't
find them.
"Where did ye have 'em last 7?-. my
acnt demanded.
On the haymow.
TCome an' show me."
"We went to the mow and searched
for .the. pennies, but not one of them
could we -.find. ,
. .. I remembered that when I saw them
last-Amos' had themt In his hand.
I To .' awful 'f raid for him ayes I
kef said ' Aunt" DeeL Tm 'fraid
Eovin Kate -was right about him
ayes PV-K v:
-What did she say?" I asked. '
""That he was goin to be bung
ayes! You can't play with him no
more. Boys that , take what don't
belong to em which I hope he didn't
ayes-1 hope It awful are. apt to
be hung by their necks' until they
are dead jest as he was .goinV to
toBS ol' Shep ayes ! they are !"
TJarte Peabody seemed to feel very
ftad , when he learned how Amos had
turned out.
"Don't say a word about It," said
fee. "Mebbe you lost the pennies.
Don't mind 'em."
Soon after that, one afternon,
Aunt Deel .came, down. In the field
rrhere we were dragging. While she
Wen the . Dog Beaan to Struoau. i
Threw My Arms About Him and
: Cried.
was talking: with TTnrio
Ito ccnrred to me, and the dog and
m nm aur me .. nouse. There was a
noney on the. top shelf of the
laatry and ever since I had seen
it
w ,ujere, i naa cherished secret
de-
raa Into the deserted house, and
QZ. a chair climbed to
a Cm shetf and then to the next.
racnea into, the pan : and drew
ELLER-
out a comb of honey, and with no
delay whatever it went to my mouth.
Suddenly It seemed to me that I had
been hit by lightning. It was the
sting of a bee. I felt myself go
ing and made a wild grab and caught
the edge of the pan and down we
came to the floor the pan . and I
with a great crash.
I discovered that I was in desner-
ate pain and trouble and 1 got to
my feet and ran. I didn't know
where I was going. It seemed to me
that any other-place would be better
than that . My feet took me toward
the barn and I crawled under It and
hid there.'. My lip began to feel better;
by and by, but big and queer. It
stuck out so -That 'I could see it I
heard my uncle coming with the
horses... I concluded that I would
stay where I was, but the dog came
and sniffed and barked at the hole
through which I had crawled as If
saying, 'Here he is !" My position
was untenable. I came out Shep
began , trying to clean my clothes with
his v tongue. Uncle Peabody 4 stood
near with the horses. He looked at
me. He stuck his finerer Into the
honey, on my coat and smelt it.
"Well, by ", he stopped and came
closer and asked; : -
"What's happened? ; -:,
"Bee stung me," I answered.
"Where did ye find so much honey
that ye could go swlmmln in it?" he
asked. '
I heard the door of the house open
suddenly and the voice of Aunt Deel.
"Peabody: Peabody. come here
quick," she called. ,
Uncle Peabody-ran to the house, but
I stayed out with the dog.
Through the open door I heard Aunt
Deel saying: "I can't stan' It any
longer and I won't not another day
ayes, I can't stan it. That boy Is a
reg'lar pest"
They came out on the veranda. Un
cle Peabody said nothing, but I could
see that he couldn't stand it either.
My brain was working fast
"Come here, sir," Uncle Peabody
called. .
I knew It was serious, for he had
never called me "sir" before. I went
slowly to the steps.
"My Lord !" Aunt Deel exclaimed.
"Look at that lip and the honey all
over him ayes! I tell ye I can't
stan' it."
"Say, boy, Is there anything on this
place that ye ain't tipped over?". Uncle
Peabody asked in a sorrowful tone,
"Wouldn't ye like to tip the house
over?"
I was near breaking down in this
answer :
t went Into the but'ry and . that
pan jumped on to me."
"Didn't you taste the honey?"
"No," I drew In my breath and
shook my head.
"Liar, too!" said Aunt Deel.
can't stan' It an' I won't"
Uncle Peabody was sorely tried, but
he was keeping down his anger. His
voice trembled as he said:
"Boy, I guess youH have to"
Uncle Peabody stopped. He had
been driven to the last ditch, but he
had not stepped over it. However.
knew what he had started to say and
sat down on the steps In great de
jection. Shep followed, working at
my coat with his tongue.
I think the sight of me must have
touched the heart of Aunt Deel.
"Peabody Baynes, we mustn't be
cruel," said she in a softer tone, and
then she brought a rag and bezan to
assist Shep in the process - of clean
ing my coat. "Good land ! He's cot to
stay here ayes ! he ain't got no
other place to go to."
"But If you can't stan' it" said Un
cle Peabody. : . ;-i-7 '-yi ' v .v
; "I've got to stan' It ayes ! I can't
stan' s it but I've got to ayes I. So
have ' you -T s v t ; . , v ;
Aunt Deel put me to bed although
It was only five o'clock. As I lay
looYing up at the shingles a singular
resolution came o me, It was born
of my lcuglng for the companionship
of my kind and of my resentment I
would, go and live with . the Dunkel
bergv a I would go the way they had
gone and find them. I knew it was
ten miles away, but af course ererj
body knew 'where ; the .inkelbergs
lived and any - one -would , shoV: me.
I would ' run and . get. there before
dark and tell them that I wanted to
ll ve with them and every day I would
play with Sally : Dunkelberg. '. .Uncle
Peabody vas not lialf as nice to play
with as she was.
I heard Uncle Peabody. drive away.
I watched him through the open win
dow. I could hear Aunt Deel west
ing the dishes in the kitchen. I gox
out of bed Very . slyly aad put on my
Sunday ..; clothes. : I went to the qpetf
window. The sun had just gone over
the top of the woods. I would have
to hurry to get to the Dunkelbergs
before dark, i crept oui on tne wy
of the shed and descended the lad
der that leaned against It I stood a
moment listening. The dooryard was
covered with shadows and very still.
The dog must have gone: with Uncle
Peabody. I ran through the garden
to the road and . down it as fast' as
my bare feet could carry me. In that
. A. I. 1
direction me nearest uuuse was ui-
radst a alle away. I remember I
was out of 'breath, and the light was
growing dim before I got to It. I
went on. It seemed to me that I
had gone nearly far enough to reach
my destination when I heard a buggy
coming behind me.
"Hello !" a voice called.
I turned and looked up at Dug Dra
per, in a single buggy,- dressed In ais
Sunday suit.
"Is It much further to where the
Dunkelbergs live?" I asked.
"The Dunkelbergs? Who be they?"
It seemed to me very strange that
he didn't know the Dunkelbergs.
"Where Sally Dunkelberg lives."
That was a clincher. He laughed
and swore and said:
"Git' In here, boy. Til take ye
there."
I got into the buggy, and he struck
his horse with the whip and went gal
loping away in the dusk.
By and by we passed Rovln' Kate.
I could just discern her ragged form
by the roadside and called to her. He
struck his horse and gave me a rude
shake and bade me shut up.
It was dark and I felt very cold and
began to wish myself home in bed.
"Ain't we most to the Dunkel
bergs'?" I asked. 1
"No not yet" he answered.
I burst into tears and he shook me
roughly and shoved me down on the
buggy floor and said:
"You lay there and keep still ; do 1
yon hear?" '
"Yes," I sobbed.
I lay shaking with fear and fight
ing my sorrow and keeping as still as
I could with it, until, wearied by the
strain, I fell asleep. - ; :
What befell me that night while I
dreamed of playing with the sweet
faced girl I have wondered often.
Some time In the night Dug Draper
had reached the village of Canton and
got rid of me. He had probably put
me out at the water trough. Kind
hands had picked me up and carried
me to a little veranda that fronted
the door of a law office. There I
slept peacefully until daylight, when
I felt a hand on my face and awoke
suddenly. I remember that I, felt
cold. A kindly faced man was lean
ing over me. !
"Hello, boy r '.said 'he.' "Where did
you come from?" -
I was frightened and confused, but
his gentle voce reassured nie.
"Uncle Peabody !" I called, as I
arose and looked about me and be
gan to cry.
The man lifted me in his arms and
held me close to his breast and tried
to comfort me. I remember seeing
the Silent Woman pass while I was
In his arms.
"Tell me what's your name," he
urged.
"Barton Baynes," I said as soon as
I could epeak. v ,
"Where do you live?"
"In Lickitysplit"
"How did you get here?" A
"Dug Draper, brought me. ' Do you
know where Sally Dunkelberg lives?"
"Is she the daughter of Horace
Dunkelberg?" , .
"Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dunkelberg,"
I amended. . " . .
"Oh, yes, I know her. Sally Is a
friend of mine. We'll get some break
fast and then we'll go and find her."
He carried me through the open
door of his office and set me down
at his desk. ; The cold air of the
night had chilled me and I was shiv
ering. . ..
"You sit there and I'll have a fire
going in a minute and get you warm
ed up." v ;-
He wrapped me in his coat and went
into the back room and built a fire
in a small stove and brought me In
and set me down beside it. He made
some porridge In a kettle while I sat
holding, my little hands over the stove
to warm them, and a sense of com
fort grew in me. w
He dipped some porridge into bowls
and v put them on a small table. - My
eyes had watched him with growing
Interest and I got toi the table about
as soon as the porridge and mounted
a chair and seized a spoon. .
"One moment Bart,' said my
host. "By jingo ! We've forgotten to
wash and you're face ; looks like the
dry bed of a river. Come here a min
ute." ... . . ,v . J . "
He led me, out . of the back door,
where there were a iwash-stand and a
pall and tin basin and-a dish of soft
soap. He dipped -. the pail in a ; rain
barrel ; and k filled r- the basin; .i and I
washed myself and; waited not upon
my host,- but made for the table and
began to eat, being 'very hungry, af
ter hastily drying my face on a towel.
In a minute he came, and sat down
to his own porridge , and bread and
butter." ir -
- When ho had fiulshrd eUj ae sei
aside the dishes and' I asked: f 1.
. "Nowcould I go and see Sally Dun
ielbergr, . . ' - -4
L What In the w rid do yon want
of Sally Dunkelberg? he asked.
"Oh, just to play with ,her," I said
as fl; shqwedi him" how I could sit on
my hands and raise myself from the;
chair bottom. s
f "Haven't you any one to play with
a home?" . . ,
"Only my . Uncle Peabody."
If Don't you like to play with him?"
"Ohlsome, but he can't stand me
any 'longer. , He's 'all tired out' and
my Aunt Deel, too. I've tipped over
every single thing on that place; 1
tipped ioter the : honey yesterday
spilt fit all ove? everything' and
rooend my clothes. I'm a regler pest.
So I want to play with Sally Dunkel
berg. ; t want to play with her a lit
tle white just a wee little while." 1
"Forward, march !" said he and
awa e started for the home of the
.Dunkelbergs. The village interested
me immensely. 1 1 had seen ft only
twice "before. People were ) iQOVing
about in .the streets. One thing 1
did not fail to notice. Every ; man
we me touched his hat as he greeted
my friend.'
It was a square, frame house that
of the Dunkelbergs large; for that
village,jand had a big dooryard with
trees in it. As we came near the gate
I saw;Sally Dunkelberg playing rwitr
other children among the trees. Sud
denly I was afraid and Began to hang
A Kindly Faced Man Was Leaning
back! ,-! I looked down at my bare feel
and my clothes, both . of which were
dirty.1 'Sally and her friends had
stopped their play and were standing
In a' !group looking at us. I heard
Sally iwhisper:
"It'll that Baynes boy. Don't he
look dirty?"
. I stopped and withdrew my hand
from i that of my guide.
"Come on, Bart," he said.
I shook my head and stood looking
over at that little, hostile tribe near
me. 'ip;-; : " v v"
"Go and play with them while I step
into the house," he urged.
Again I shook my head.
"Well, then, you wait here a mo
ment? -said my new-found friend.
He; left me and I sat down uptn
the groundthoughtful and silent.
In, a moment my friend came out
withMrs. Dunkelberg, who kissed me,
and asked me to tell how I happened
to be there. '.
"I Just thought I would come," I said
as twisted a button on my coat
and Jwpuld say no more to her.
c "Mr; -Wright, you're going to take
him "home, , are youf Mrs. Dunkel
berg', asked.
- 44Yes. m start off with him in an
hour or so," said my friend. "I am
interested In this boy and -I want tt
see his aunt and uncle."
"Well, Sally, you go'down to the of
fice and stay with Bart until, they go."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" the
man I asked of. me.
"I don't know," I said.
"That means yes," said the man.
Sally and . another little girl came
with: us - and1 passing a store I held
backjtb look at many beautiful things
in a big window,
! "Is (there anything you'd like there,
Bart?" the man asked.
"Iwisht J had a pair o' them shiny
shoes with buttons on,'V I answered
in ai Jow, confidential tone, afraid to
express, openly, a wish so eztrava
&aut;i(, -. . -:.
"C6me right in," he said, and I re
menjjbei; that when we . entered the
store I could hear my heart beating.
He bought a pair of shoes for me
and) would have them on at once,
and made it necessary for him I t
buy!, a pair of socks also. After, the
shoes were buttoned on my feet I saw
littl 9f SaUy Dunkelberg or the other
peopled of the village, my eyes being
on my feet most of the time.
i ' The man took us Into his office and
told us to sit down until he could
write -a letter.' ; .
Barton ooea to v town and
again ; sees Sally Dunkelfaern.
but hit experience on this oc
casion is not so: pleasant as at
their first meeting. H Is friend,
hip with the great 81 las Wright,
however,, progresses more favor-
amy.
4. f
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
.ff vjfyP retty'! DescriKes
Old-time elegance, daintiness, quaint
ness these are the things that make
themselves evident In those spring
frocks that are made of printed cot
tons or silks. Women have turned
again to clothes that are truthfully de
scribed as pretty. Not rich or slKirvyy,
but" just full of pretty touches, in color
and material and in style and acces
sories. AH the way from ' simple
"porch dresses", to frocks for all sorts
of afternoon wear, there are pretty
things in clothes made from new . fab
rics.' ;- s : -' - ' '
In cotton, there are English prints,
percale, printed voile, cotton foulard
and lawns to be reckoned with for
making the simple dresses that are so
naive and dainty. They provide many
lovely colors, and are combined with
fine organdie In frocks that are charm
ing. Some .of these fabrics are bor
dered, as in times gone by, and these
borders, :? make " accessories,- as '"the
pockets, girdle and collar, that set on!
the pattern In the material and em
phasize its color and character, -v
Endless Variety
There is no such thing as a dull mo
ment among the inew spring blouses,
now entering in gay companies, the
shops and stores. - There Is so great a
I variety of r styles In them that it is
not easy to pick out features that are
characteristic of the season But there
is one item that is so, universal t In
them that It passes without notice- Is
taken as a matter, of course.5 That la
the sheerness of the materials used.
Except for the plain and regulation
shirtwaists of silk or linen, or cotton,
there -L are only .diaphanous stuffs In
blouses, with - georgette crepe . far in
the lead of all others. 7 , ;
Besides t this feature of i, the . styles,
there Is a preponderance of- round
neck models, and many . of these "fas
ten on the shoulder,' r The; narrow
shoulder yoke, remains . a great favor
ite. Small, round crochet and . small
peart buttons.are.favored.for fastening
and. trimming ; hemstitching,, tucks and
very: narrow Val lace, for ornamenta
tion on the. light blouses. , i .
Dark colors, and black, in georgette
are shown made up over white net or
,lace, and! the reverse of 'this, black
chantilly lace appears, made rup ; oyer
flesh or white georgette. A good 'ex
Many Kew Frocks;
- wMS m
For afternoon wear there are the
printed foulards in a very light, soft
weave, that are made up with plain
georgette crepe, or with organdie in
accessories. Organdie collars and
collars and cuffs or neck frills art
lovely on them. Very 'fine tucks and
fine, narrow Val lace edging reveal
their perennial beauty and popularity
In these accessories. Velvet and other
ribbon girdles finish the engaging
story of these frocks
A modest cotton foulard, shown in
the picture, appeared among the earli
est models made of printed fabric
It is less summery than many of the'
later arrivals that have short sleeve!
supplemented by organdie flounces,
wide flowing sleeves. But it is a pw
tical little dress, so silky looking that
one must look twice to discover that it
is 'made, of cotton. It has an organ
frill at the. neck and a girdle of velvet
ribboni In .'the-French blue and
tan color combination t pictured with
blue girdle it deserves to be classed
among pretty dresses. .
in Spring Blouses
ample ' of the smart blouse of
georgette over cream-colored net ap
pears in the picture. Its sleeves
trimming are novel, both being chtfj
acteristic of the new season. Besij
these long flowing sleeves, there
elbow-length "sleeves cut in nrnch
same way. - The trimming is a con,
Ing, in , which very heavy silk in dar
red is fastened . down with anotbf:
shade of silk In the same color.
couching is used in many ways aj
patterns, and Is very easily and quicl
lydone. N On light-colored blouses j
used, as brown or light tan, or blue!
tan or white. li
A RtHlrinc nnoTtv nrnnrs iD
high collar, cuffs and' a square
Sit;
at the-front made o a Japanese
handkerchief with border in light
showing a band and large dots
I .L I I I II J
are seen in the shops. . The most P
ular sport costume- of late Is h
Af whifo elllr Unav irnrn nrlth 8 bnr i
colored. waist,
'-.V