Harper's Young People, November 29, 1881 An Illustrated Weekly

HOW TOM PRIMROSE PROTECTED HIS FATHER.

BY SYDNEY DAYRE.

Mr. Primrose arrived at home one morning just as his family were gathering for breakfast. He had been for two days at a small town about thirty miles distant, to which he had been summoned to assist in the trial of a pair of noted criminals.

"You look tired out," said Mrs. Primrose.

"Tired enough," he said. "I have been up nearly all night."

"How did that happen?"

"Well, it was partly my own fault. I met my old friend Philip Sanford up there; he was on the defense in the case I was prosecuting. We had a grand tilt over it--fought each other vigorously all the way through. The chief criminal shook his fist at me when I was making the closing speech. I began to see that the case was going against me, and I pressed the rascals pretty hard."

"Dear me!" said Mrs. Primrose, with an anxious face. "I am always in fear of some of those desperate characters doing you some injury out of revenge."

The gentleman laughed. "Don't worry yourself, dear," he said. "There is much more to be feared from the rogues who go uncaught than from those who feel the strong grasp of the law. But, as I was telling, the case went to the jury about nine last night, and then Sanford and I got down to a game of chess. If I didn't beat him at law, I beat him well at the game, and it was one o'clock before we took heed of the time. Then, as my train was due at three, it was not worth while to go to bed, so we played and talked on. When I got to the station, I found the train was behind time, so I lay on a bench till it came, at five, and here I am."

"You will take a rest now?"

"Not a bit," he said, opening some letters he had found waiting for him. "Business is pressing just now. Ha! ha!" he exclaimed, "this is good news. We'll have those rogues in the penitentiary yet."

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Primrose.

"Why, I told you just now that I feared the jury would not convict on the evidence, although it was convincing to me. Here is a letter from the sheriff of Hancock County, who wishes that these same fellows be held to answer to a charge of complicity in a bank robbery which took place in that county some months since. If the jury fails to convict, the prisoners must be re-arrested the moment they are discharged."

"Rather a damper on them, I should say," said Frank, with a chuckle.

"You'd be astonished to see what decent-looking men they are," continued his father. "The chief criminal would impress you as having been trained for a gentleman, and his accomplice is not much more than a boy; both are well dressed. The daintiest little pearl-mounted revolver I ever saw was displayed in court as the instrument used in their last scrape; Frank, you must take a run up to Homer on the nine train."

"He can not," said Mrs. Primrose. "I'm sorry, but he sprained his foot yesterday, and must keep quiet for a few days."

"That's bad--for the boy and for me. I must hurry down town and send some one else."

"Oh, papa, let me go!" said Tom. "Please do, sir. I've been up there twice with you, you know, and I'd know just where to go, and you could tell me just what to do."

"Ho! ho!" laughed Frank. "'Heedless Tom' on important business! Why, he would be sure to have the judge and sheriff under arrest, and the burglars at large. He can't help doing everything backward, you know."

"Come, Frank, don't be so sharp," said his mother. "Tom is trying to be more careful lately, I think."

"Yes," said Mr. Primrose, in a teasing tone, "he is not at all like the boy I sent from the office last week to buy a pamphlet called 'Westward Ho!' and who brought me instead a garden hoe."

There was a laugh at Tom's expense, but he persisted, coaxingly:

"Do let me go, papa. You know I wouldn't be careless about your business."

"I guess you may go, Tom. Now listen. Find Sheriff Carroll either at his house or at the court-house, and give him this letter. Take the twelve train home, and be sure you are on time. There is money for your fare."

So Mr. Primrose departed, while Tom, highly delighted at the prospect of such an unexpected little jaunt, went to get ready. He meant to act through the whole matter with such caution and judgment as to fully convince his father of the propriety of intrusting him with the weightiest concerns. And his first care was to leave for the station in such good time as to put all fear of his missing the train out of the question.

Alas, poor Tom!

"Now, where's my hat?"

This inquiry was a sound of dismay in the Primrose household. Tom's hat was always missing. There was no spot in the house, yard, barn, or garden where it might not be hopefully searched for.

"Where did you have it last?" some one asked. Some one was always sure to ask that.

"I don't know--yes, I remember putting it on Rover's head, and he ran away with it. No, I found it after that behind the coal-house. I had it when we were playing hide-and-seek last evening."

Tom was usually left to do his own hunting, but in such an emergency as this all the family energy was aroused. Uneasiness gathered in every face as time went on.

"Let me see your old hat," said his mother at last. But the old hat proved to be too shabby to be thought of. Then his brother's hat was tried, but Frank was three years older, and it would not do.

"Wear it down to Mr. Ramsay, the hatter's," said his mother. "Tell him of your difficulty, and he will lend you a hat for a few hours." But Tom did not like to do this, and he continued his hunt longer than was prudent. At length his little sister came from the barn with a note of triumph and the missing hat. It had been lying in a corner of the hay-loft, where he had hidden the evening before. He seized it gratefully, and was off like the wind.

The locomotive was hissing in the station as Tom, hot and out of breath, asked for a ticket to Homer. Then he felt for his pocket-book in one pocket and then another, growing hotter as he failed to find it. After thorough search he concluded, with intense dismay, that his run must have shaken it from his pocket. He knew he had no time for thought. At the distance of about half a block was situated the office of one of his father's friends. He rushed over to it and told his trouble in a few words.

"Hurry, Tom, hurry," said the gentleman, as already the premonitory puff of the engine sounded. "Don't stop for a ticket, but board the train--if you can; but--_Stop, boy!_ Hallo, there!" he shouted; "don't let that boy jump on that train!"

He ran after Tom as he flew toward the now-moving train, which the boy was fully resolved to board. But he was seized by friendly hands.

"You can't do that, my boy--no, sir," as Tom struggled. "Have you no concern for your life or limbs?"

"I must go on that train; I will," cried poor Tom, in utter despair. But it moved pitilessly on, while a few men gathered near to inquire into his trouble.

"It was about some business for my father," he explained, hardly able to force back his tears, as he realized what a terrible failure he had made at the very outset. "It was very important, and what shall I do?"

"There's a freight train going up," said a brakeman.