Judge — January 16, 1915 — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Pay much attention.’ He stopped, and I looked him over. I couldn't make him seem like a party that in a few hours would be stepping high and defying the navies of the world. His scurvy whiskers drooped, and his hat had faded down onto his ears. He looked as lost and lonesome and helpless as a young bird that had kicked himself out of his nest. But, as I remarked be- fore, you never can tell. “It's a couple of hours till train time, Mr. Tandy,’ saysI. ‘Suppose you go upstairs and lay down for a short spell.” “**Much obliged to you, sir!’ says he, rising. And then he bethought him- self. ‘If I fall asleep, be sure to wake me in time for the train. I wouldn't miss it for quite a good deal.’ “After taking him up to the room, I went back down to the veranda again. I studied the matter over for half an hour without getting anywhere. And then I concluded that it wouldn’t be especially premeditated in me to go up and see how the wolf in sheep's clothing was getting along. The door was ajar, and I peeked in. The frenzied Mr. Tan- dy was reposing on the bed with his face to the wall, and he ‘peared to be talking to himself. That is always a bad sign. The more a party something on his mind mutilates it over, the more liable he is to break loose. You never can tell; he may burn the house down or something. I tiptoed into the room as a measure of precaution. When I caught onto what he was saying to himself, I quietly threw up my hands, for the A YOUNG LADY OF THE OLD SCHOOL statements he was making were mighty pe- culiar for an abandoned reprobate. ***Seems like I can’t sleep,” he was say- ing. ‘And the time passes dreadful slow. I—I wonder what Fretty is doing, now that she hasn’t anything to pick up that I've dropped and there ain't any more mud on Shopper—It seems to me these eggs are rather small. Merchant—Perbaps they are, mum, a trifle—owing to th’ war. the floor where I've tracked it ii For "most twenty years I’ve been tracking mud in on the clean floor and nevet realized it till my attention was called to it. Some- how, too, I have let the fences go, and the cattle have got in or out, according to where they were before. Seems as if I've left un- done ‘most everything in the living world that I ought to have done, and done ‘most everything I ought to have left undone. It’s kind of a way I've had, I guess." “It struck me that in all probability there wa'n't any immediate danger of his setting the house on fire, and so I tiptoed out and went down to the veranda again to think it over. While I was still re- munerating, I noticed a woman lunging over from the depot. She was a wiry lit- tle hornet of a lady, and ‘peared to be considerably aggervated about something. “*T am looking for my husband!’ she gasped, when she reached the steps. ‘The Butler boy—the one that stutters so—told me as well as he could that he'd left him at the depot, and they said he had come over here.” “*I've got him safe, Mizzus Tandy,’ says I. ‘He ain't done any great harm yet. Just step this way, mom!’ I led her upstairs and indooced her in at the half-opendoor. My captive was still lay- ing on the bed, and the only difference was that his shoulders was kinda shak- ing. The little hornet of a lady flew at him. ‘Luther W. Tandy,’ says she, ‘you come right straight home!’ He turned over and set up like as if he had been kicked.