A District Messenger Boy and a Necktie Party | Page 9

boat if we never get
home."
"Why not?" and Bartholomew stood before them, a perfect picture of
painful surprise.
"Well, you see we hain't sure that you own the boat, an' we concluded
not to run any risks."
"S'posen I don't own the boat, so long as I can get her. I'll fix all that,
an' you've only got to come along."
" I guess we can walk, thank'ee. We'd rather do that than steal a boat."
"Oh, you're too much of a girl to suit me, if you don't dare to do a little
thing like that," said Master West, loftily, and then he walked slowly
away, much as if he expected the' boys would call him back, when they
found that he was really intending to leave them to their fate.
" We want to get home pretty bad," said Joe; "but not so much that
we're willing to steal a boat to go in."
"All right, you can stay here, an' starve to death, for all I care. You'll be
sorry, though."
"You'll be sorry, Bart West," cried a voice from up the street; "but you
can't get any messenger boy to go in with you when you're goin' to steal
Mr. Longley's yacht."
"Then it was you, George Browning, who told these fellers that the boat
wasn't mine?" said Bart, angrily.
" Yes, it was," replied the messenger, who appeared excited, "an' these
fellers can get home without you, for our manager says he'll pay their
fare. He. telegraphed to New York, an' if the little feller's name is
Edward Hawley, he's goin' to give 'em all they want to eat, an' buy a
stateroom, an' they are to go like reg'lar swells."
"'Tis Edward Hawley," piped Ned, jumping up on his tired little feet.
It was not many seconds before Joe and Ned were out from behind the

barrels, questioning George, in breathless excitement.
"The manager of your office had telegraphed down here,to know if you
come on the boat," said George, as soon as the boys gave him an
opportunity to speak, " an' to pay your fare back if you was here. So
when I told our manager, he knew all about it. Then when I told him
about the other feller, he said folks in New York had been telegraphing
all around the country for a boy by the name of Edward Hawley. Now
you'd better come up to the office, an' everything'll be all right."
As may be imagined, it was not many moments before Joe and Ned
were telling their stories to the manager of the office in which George
was employed, and then their troubles were over. The fact that they
were in Providence, and safe, was telegraphed to New York at once,
and George was. detailed to show the boys around the city until time
for the boat to leave, for Mr. Hawley had sent word that Ned should be
supplied with what he needed to make him comfortable and happy.
Nothing more was seen of Master West, and the two boys returned to
New York on the same steamer on which they had been involuntary
passengers the night previous.
" Hello, there's the man come to look for his valises," said Joe, next
morning, as he and Ned stood by the rail while the steamer was being
warped into the dock. "I s'pose he'll be mad, now, 'cause I sent them on
by express."
"' Why, that's my father!" exclaimed Ned, when Joe had pointed his
employer out from among the crowd on the pier.
It was indeed the case; and the .reason why Mr. Hawley had not come
to relieve Joe, was that word of Ned's non-appearance at home had
been sent to him nearly an hour before the steamer sailed.
Joe went back, to the office, after he had been home to see his mother,
but he did not remain there very long, for Mr. Hawley gave him a
position in his store, in return for his kindness to Ned, and to-day the
district messenger boy is in a fair way to become a successful
merchant.
DAN HARDY'S CRIPPY. .
Among the flock of geese that toddled in and out of Farmer Hardy's
barn-yard last winter, hissing in protest at the ice which covered the
pond so that there was no chance of a swimming match, was one
remarkable neither for its beauty, nor its grace. This particular goose

was gray, and was looked upon with no special favor by Mrs. Hardy,
who had great pride in all the flock but the gray one.
When .it was a little fluffy, drab-colored gosling, one of the sheep had
stepped on it, crushing out its life so nearly that Mrs. Hardy had no idea
it would ever recover, but