The Lost Harrow Teeth
Thomas was socially inclined and the boys of the community were too kindly disposed to exclude him from their company.
The owner of a nearby farm had been “seeding down” a stumpy addition to his pasture, and early in the summer some boys, including Thomas, wandered in that direction one Sunday afternoon, discovering a small wooden harrow with iron “teeth,” which had been left on the field until a more convenient season. The shrinking of the wood in the summer sun had loosened these teeth and a few of them had dropped out. Thus it came about that the boys were afflicted with a wonderfully funny idea.
A few mornings later Mr. Perry, the owner of the harrow and incidentally of several farms in the neighborhood, had occasion to drive up to Mr. Hubbard’s place on business. It was but a short distance and he could easily have walked, but for the fact that he was very lame.
Mr. Hubbard was at home, and receiving his visitor very cordially, they entered into an earnest conversation. The child of misfortune, Thomas, came around the corner of an outbuilding and seeing the two men so busily occupied, stopped at once. He seemed to be much agitated.
The conversation continued, the two neighbors, however, subconsciously watching the boy. Suddenly he rushed forward.
“You old lame cuss!” said he, addressing the astonished visitor.
“You old lame cuss! I don’t know anything about your harrow teeth.” He then dodged back out of sight.
The two men looked at each other in amazement.
“What do you suppose he means?” said Mr. Perry.
“I don’t know,” was the reply, “but I intend to find out.”
“Here, you, Thomas!” he called, “come back here.”
The boy came reluctantly forward, and after some questioning revealed that the boys in their holiday spirit of mischief had concealed the loose harrow teeth in a hollow stump near where the harrow lay as a joke on the Perry boys—a trifling matter in itself but which had assumed great and terrifying importance to poor unfortunate Thomas.
To speak of the childish wrath of the aged is misleading in its suggestiveness. More properly we should refer to the childish wrath of the old man; for it is an undeniable fact that elderly women exhibit much greater patience with the inevitable annoyances of life than old men do.
A popular cartoonist has frequently exhibited these sudden tactics of impotent wrath in a very amusing way. But his imagination never has suggested anything more violent in its explosiveness than Uncle Reuben’s rage at a balky “salt shake.”