HOW JOHNNIE WENT TO SCHOOL.

BY MARY A. PORTERFIELD.

Little John worked in a barrel factory in the thriving town of E——, in Pennsylvania.

Piling staves or rolling barrels all day long is not very enjoyable work, but Johnnie did not grumble: no, indeed, he was too happy to get even the hardest and dullest work to do. He wanted to go to school, and his aunt had said if he could save money enough to buy books and clothes, he might go. He was delighted with this permission, and clattered down-stairs, three steps at a time, to hunt up Pat, his friend and confidant, who would double his happiness by sharing it.

Pat was a newsboy on the railroad, a cheery, good-natured Irish lad, whose mother had died years ago, when he was but a blue-eyed baby. The new mother that came into the little whitewashed cabin by the railroad was too busy with her pigs, her garden, and her own little ones to pay much attention to Pat at first; though by-and-by she thought there was no room for him in the little home. Poor Pat! he had a hard time finding any place where there was room for him. At last Johnnie persuaded his aunt to let the forsaken Irish boy share his bed. They had been firm friends, sharing their boyish griefs and joys with the complete sympathy of childhood; they were brothers in heart, if not in name.

Johnnie and Pat were industrious, contented, and happy. During the day they worked on the cars and in the factory, but in the evening the kind aunt taught them the common-school studies. Both boys eagerly longed for the time when they could enjoy fuller advantages for education.

Pat saw his way but dimly, but Johnnie's happiness seemed near at hand. It was a touching sight to see the two boys once or twice a week bring out their store of savings. No miser ever thrilled at the sight and touch of heaps of gold as those two boys at their paltry handful of silver and copper.

It was about a month before school began, and yet Johnnie had not saved quite the desired amount.

One evening he came rushing home waving his hat and dinner pail to his aunt, who stood in the doorway.

"Oh, auntie, I have enough now," he shouted joyfully.

Her motion for silence and the look on her face lowered his glad voice.

"What is the matter? Are you ill? Has anything happened to Pat?" he hurriedly asked.

"Come in and sit down, and I will tell you," she replied.

A strange sickening odor of some drug filled the house; there was an unusual stir in the front room. Johnnie's heart sank within him. He listened with terror-stricken face to the terrible news. An accident on the road; Pat was hurt; they were amputating his arm; they feared he would die.

His face grew whiter and whiter as each detail of the horror grew upon his mind. He buried his face in his hands, and sat motionless a long, long time.

After a time he went softly into the house, into the room where Pat lay still unconscious.

"Pat, dear Pat," he sobbed, laying his wet face against the one colorless hand.

Here he remained until he heard the doctor's step in the hall, when he withdrew to the shadow of the curtain, dreading yet longing to hear his words. How his heart leaped with joy to know that Pat might live, though a cripple. His dear, dashing, frolicksome Pat a cripple!

All night long Johnnie sat with his eyes on the pallid young face. He was trying to think out some plan for helping him. A firm, happy look dawned on his grave, thoughtful face. He seemed to have solved a part of his hard problem.

Toward morning Pat opened his eyes and looked around in a dazed sort of way. He tried to rise, but was too weak. Slowly he recalled the accident, the pain, and the darkness. What came then? Looking around in a helpless, wistful manner, he saw Johnnie's big eyes shining on him through falling tears. He moved his left hand around to find the right one. Alas! it was gone. Turning his face to the wall, the hot tears slipped quickly down from his closed eyes.

It was a long day for the boys, Johnnie at his toilsome labor in the factory, and Pat at home thinking, thinking, thinking, trying to find some gleam of brightness, some way of self-help in the future.

Going home that night Johnnie bought an orange and a picture for his friend. He endeavored to be more than usually cheerful in his manner that evening. Pat was trying too, but it was such a faint smile that he gave that Johnnie had hard work to keep back the tears.

"But I did," he triumphantly said to his aunt. "I never mean to make Pat feel badly any more if I can help it. Oh, auntie"—this very eagerly—"may I let Pat take my money and go to school? I can wait a little longer, and Pat will help me in the evenings."

His aunt touched his sunshiny head tenderly. "You know best, my dear boy. It is your money. Use it to satisfy your own heart."

It was some time before Pat was well again, but after the first few days' struggle he never murmured. He seemed to accept and make the best of his circumstances. Every evening Johnnie remembered to bring him some token of his love—a banana, a paper, a bunch of gay flowers, or a box of bonbons; for his money was now all for Pat—his dear helpless Pat.

At last the eventful day arrived when Pat was to be up and dressed. Johnnie started home with more than usual speed, eager to see and congratulate him.

He had frequently noticed boys playing near and on a small tank used for mixing paint. They used to stir this, and inhale the fumes, which gave them a kind of half-dizzy but pleasant kind of feeling. It was rather a dangerous play, and Johnnie usually coaxed the boys away, and endeavored to persuade them not to return. As he was passing the tank this evening he saw two little boys leaning over it, and just at that moment one of them fell face downward into the tank; the other little boy sank down upon the steps, too much stupefied to render any assistance. Dropping his pail, Johnnie sprang up the steps, and into the tank. There was only a small quantity of liquid in it, but quite enough to cover the unconscious boy. Johnnie lifted him up, and called loudly for help. It soon came, for there were others who had seen the boy fall, though too far away to render the assistance that Johnnie did. For some time it was feared that the little victim would not revive.

After a while, however, they had the satisfaction of seeing him open his eyes. Johnnie wanted to go home now; he knew that his aunt and Pat were anxiously awaiting him. He was deliberating what to do, when a carriage drove up, and a lady and gentleman hurriedly alighting, came up to the still half-unconscious child. Johnnie heard one child cry, "Mamma!" and saw the look of glad recognition light up the face of the other, and then he was off with all speed for home. As he approached the house he saw his aunt, and—yes, it was, it was—Pat standing in the doorway, looking anxiously toward the factory. He waved his hat, and hastened forward yet faster, stopping at the gate quite out of breath from excitement, but looking so happy and smiling that their fears were calmed at once.

"Oh, I am so glad to see you, Pat! Don't touch me, auntie dear; I am all over paint and benzine. Just wait until I change my clothes and I will tell you all about it," he said, as he disappeared upstairs.

But the great surprise and pleasure came the next day. Johnnie had gone to work as usual, and was not expected home until evening. About noon, however, he entered the kitchen where his aunt was working.

"Come, aunt, into the room where Pat is. I have something nice to tell you."

But when there he could say nothing. He just put in her hand a crisp check for two hundred dollars.

"Oh. Johnnie! now you can go to school too," shouted the delighted Pat.

"What does it mean, dear?" asked his aunt, gazing in wonder at the check, at Johnnie, and then at the check again.

"The manager gave it to me this morning. It was his little boy who fell into the tank yesterday. He had heard about my wanting to go to school, and about Pat, so he gave me this. Oh, dear auntie! do you suppose anybody was ever so happy as I am? Here is the manager's carriage too. I am to have a half-holiday, and take you both out riding. Come, we will have some dinner, and then go down the deep hollow road."