TOM’S TROUBLES
BY JAMES OTIS
I.
“It’s no use, boys; I can’t stand it any longer”; and Tom Gibson leaned against the fence in front of four of his most intimate friends, assuming such an attitude as he believed should be taken by a very badly abused boy.
“What is it now?” asked little Dwight Holden, in a very unsympathetic tone, much as if he did not believe Tom’s troubles to be so very severe.
“It’s the same thing every day till I’m all worn out,” and Tom wiped his dry eyes with his jacket-sleeve, more to show how heavy his heart was than from any necessity. “I have to ’tend to that ugly baby every time when there’s a good game of ball or I spy going on; an’ if it does happen that I get out for a day’s fun, I have to lug wood an’ water after I get home till my arms are just ready to drop off. But I’m through now an’ that’s all there is to it.”
“What’ll you do?” and Kirk Masters continued to eat a very small and very green apple in a way that showed how much more intent he was upon his limited feast than upon his friend’s wrongs.
“I know what I can do,” said Tom, with a shake of his head that was intended should convey the idea of great mystery, and in this attempt he was remarkably successful. His friends had heard of his troubles before and it was an old story, but the fact that he had formed some plan which he intended should be kept a secret was sufficient to arouse all their curiosity. Dwight was as eager as he had been apathetic, Kirk’s apple seemed suddenly to have lost its flavor, and the entire group of boys gathered around Tom very closely, as if fearful lest they should lose some portion of the wonderful secret they were certain he was about to tell them.
“I am not sure that I dare to tell you,” said Tom, in a mysterious whisper, and the boys knew at once that he was ready to tell them all. “You see, if my folks should know what I’m going to do, that would spoil everything.”
“But what are you going to do?” persisted Kirk, whose interest in his apple was now wholly gone.