Back to the Woods | Page 5

taking them with her, and if she did
how could I stop her?
Back to the woods!
I began to feel like a street just before they put the asphalt down.
For some time I lay there with my brain huddled up in one corner of
my head, fluttering and frightened.
Presently an insistent scratch-r-r-r-r aroused me and I began to sit up
and notice things.
The things I noticed consisted chiefly of Tacks and the kitchen carving
knife. The former was seated on the floor laboriously engineering the
latter in an endeavor to produce a large arrow-pierced heart on the
polished panel of the bedroom door.
"What's the idea?" I inquired.
"I'm farewelling the place," he answered, mournfully. "They's only two
more doors to farewell after I get this one finished. Ain't hearts awful
hard to drawr just right, 'specially when the knife slips!"
"You little imp!" I yelled; "do you mean to tell me you've been doing a
Swinnerton all over this man's house? S'cat!" and I reached for a shoe.
"Cut it!" cried Tacks, indignantly. "Didn't the janitor say he'd miss me
dreadful, and how can he miss me 'less'n he sees my loving
rememberments all over the place every time he shows this
compartment to somebody else? And it is impolite to go 'way forever
and ever amen without farewelling the janitor!"
"Where do you think you're going?" I inquired, trying hard to be calm.
"To the country to live, sister told me," Tacks bubbled; "and we ain't

never coming back to this horrid city, sister told me; and you bought
the house for a surprise, sister told me; and it has a pizzazus all around
it, sister told me; and a cow that gives condensed milk, sister told me;
and they's hens and chickens and turkey goblins and a garden to plant
potato salad, and they's a barn with pigeons in the attic, and they's a
lawn with a barbers wire fence all around it, sister told me; and our
trunks are all packed, and we ain't never coming back here no more,
sister told me; and I must hurry and farewell them two doors!"
Tacks was slightly in the lead when my shoe reached the door, so he
won.
At breakfast we were joined by Uncle Peter and Aunt Martha, both of
whom fairly oozed enthusiasm and Clara J.'s pulse began to climb with
excitement and anticipation.
I was on the bargain counter, marked down from 30 cents.
Every time Uncle Peter sprang a new idea in reference to his garden,
and they came so fast they almost choked him, I felt a burning bead of
perspiration start out to explore my forehead.
Presently to put the froth of fear upon my cup of sorrow there came a
telegram from "Bunch" which read as follows:
New York ----
John Henry No. 301 W. 109th St.
Sister and family will move in country house tomorrow be sure to play
your game to-day good luck.
Bunch.
"Poor John! you look so worried," said Clara J., anxiously; "I really
hope it is nothing that will call you back to town for a week at least. It
will take us fully a week to get settled, don't you think so, Aunt
Martha?"
I dove into my coffee cup and stayed under a long time. When I came
to the surface again Uncle Peter was explaining to Tacks that baked
beans grew only in a very hot climate, and in the general confusion the
telegram was forgotten by all except my harpooned self.
Clara J. and Aunt Martha were both tearful when we left the flat to ride
to the station, but to my intense relief no mention was made of the
trunks, consequently I began to lift the mortgage from my life and
breathe easier.
On the way out Tacks left a small parcel with one of the hall boys with

instructions to hand it to the janitor as soon as possible.
"It's a little present for the janitor in loving remembrance of his
memory," Tacks explained with something that sounded like a catch in
his voice.
"Hasn't that boy a lovely disposition?" Aunt Martha beamed on Tacks;
"to be so forgiving to the janitor after the horrid man had sworn at him
and blamed him for putting a cat in the dumb waiter and sending it up
to the nervous lady on the seventh floor who abominated cats and who
screamed and fell over in a tub of suds when she opened the
dumb-waiter door to get her groceries and the cat jumped at her. Mercy!
how can the boy be so generous!"
Tacks bore up bravely under this panegyric of praise and his face wore
a rapt expression which amounted almost to religious fervor.
"What did you give