"THE LAST DAY OF PUMP-EYE"
For a long time after her unhappy experiences with "Ivanhoe" Tillie did
not again venture to transgress against her father's prohibition of
novels. But her fear of the family strap, although great, did not equal
the keenness of her mental hunger, and was not sufficient, therefore,
to put a permanent check upon her secret midnight reading, though it
did lead her to take every precaution against detection. Miss Margaret
continued to lend her books and magazines from time to time, and in
spite of the child's reluctance to risk involving the teacher in
trouble with the School Board through her father, she accepted them.
And so during all this winter, through her love for books and her
passionate devotion to her teacher, the little girl reveled in feasts
of fancy and emotion and this term at school was the first season of
real happiness her young life had ever known.
Once on her return from school the weight of a heavy volume had proved
too great a strain on her worn and thin undergarment during the long
walk home; the skirt had torn away from the band, and as she entered
the kitchen, her stepmother discovered the book. Tillie pleaded with
her not to tell her father, and perhaps she might have succeeded in
gaining a promise of secrecy had it not happened that just at the
critical moment her father walked into the kitchen.
Of course, then the book was handed over to him, and Tillie with it.
"Did you lend this off the Doc again?" her father sternly demanded, the
fated book in one hand and Tillie's shoulder grasped in the other.
Tillie hated to utter the lie. She hoped she had modified her
wickedness a bit by answering with a nod of her head.
"What's he mean, throwin' away so much money on books?" Mr. Getz took
time in his anger to wonder. He read the title, "'Last Days of
Pump-eye.' Well!" he exclaimed, "this here's the last HOUR of this here
'Pump-eye'! In the stove she goes! I don't owe the Doc no doctor's bill
NOW, and I'd like to see him make me pay him fur these here novels he
leaves you lend off of him!"
"Please, please, pop!" Tillie gasped, "don't burn it. Give it back
to--him! I won't read it--I won't bring home no more books of--hisn!
Only, please, pop, don't burn it--please!"
For answer, he drew her with him as he strode to the fireplace. "I'm
burnin' every book you bring home, do you hear?" he exclaimed; but
before he could make good his words, the kitchen door was suddenly
opened, and Sammy's head was poked in, with the announcement, "The
Doc's buggy's comin' up the road!" The door banged shut again, but
instantly Tillie wrenched her shoulder free from her father's hand,
flew out of doors and dashed across the "yard" to the front gate. Her
father's voice followed her, calling to her from the porch to "come
right aways back here!" Unheeding, she frantically waved to the doctor
in his approaching buggy. Sammy, with a bevy of small brothers and
sisters, to whom, no less than to their parents, the passing of a
"team" was an event not to be missed, were all crowded close to the
fence.
"Some one sick again?" inquired the doctor as he drew up at Tillie's
side.
"No, Doc--but," Tillie could hardly get her breath to speak, "pop's
goin' to burn up 'Last Days of Pompeii'; it's Miss Margaret's, and he
thinks it's yourn; come in and take it, Doc--PLEASE--and give it back
to Miss Margaret, won't you?"
"Sure!" The doctor was out of his buggy at her side in an instant.
"Oh!" breathed Tillie, "here's pop comin' with the book!"
"See me fix him!" chuckled the doctor. "He's so dumm he'll b'lee' most
anything. If I have much more dealin's with your pop, Tillie, I'll be
ketchin' on to how them novels is got up myself. And then mebbe I'll
LET doctorin', and go to novel-writin'!"
The doctor laughed with relish of his own joke, as Mr. Getz, grim with
anger, stalked up to the buggy.
"Look-ahere!" His voice was menacing as he held out the open book for
Tillie's inspection, and the child turned cold as she read on the
fly-leaf,
"Margaret Lind.
"From A. C. L.