[BARNEY'S FOOT.]
BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.
"Come on, Barney."
"You're on our side. We knew you'd get here, and we counted you."
"And Sid Thayer, he said you belonged with them this time, but we said you wasn't an up-town boy, and we wouldn't stand it."
There was something rueful in the face of Barney Powell as he stood there with his hands in his pockets looking across the village green.
There was a game of foot-ball just about to begin, and Barney was conceded to be the best kicker for his size in all Hackerton.
Then he had always played as a down-town boy, although his father kept the drug store in the middle of the village, and lived next door to it, and the up-town boys said the drug store was on their land. It was two rods north of the middle stone-walk across the green.
"Well, no, boys, I guess I won't play foot-ball to-day."