Shepherdstown Register

Counted
IA.

The buckboard stood in front of the steps and the crowd was gaily collecting. Old Mr. Beekman watched them wistfully. It was Carol Frost who, turning to call back a gay word to some one, noticed the lonely figure with the pathetic eyes and dangling trumpet.

"Excuse me just a moment," she said to Juliet Beekman. "I want to speak to your grandfather."

She ran back up the steps and held out her hand for the trumpet.

"We are going to climb to Old Bald," she explained. "We expect to reach the top about noon. We have mirrors to signal with and a field-glass. Won't you wave to us? I am sure we could see you."

The old man's face brightened. "Surely! Surely!" He nodded eagerly. "I'll watch."

All the morning he was restless and excited. He climbed the stairway to his room for his largest handkerchief, and went into the house half dozen times to compare his watch with the clock. Finally the flashes appeared. A number of people were watching, and answered from the steps. In his corner he waved his handkerchief alone.

He was waiting when the crowd returned. Carol went to him at once.

"I brought you the prettiest stone I could find on the top," she said.

"I thank ye—I thank ye kindly!" the old man answered; and then, his eagerness conquering, "Are ye sure ye saw me?"

"Sure," Carol answered. "You were standing right on this corner; the others were on the steps."

The old man's face grew almost radiant. Some one had watched for him—for him! That was the way it began—the old man's happy summer. Presently a few others fell into the habit of stopping a minute or two to tell him of their trips; and when they had a "stripping-bee," at Carol's suggestion he was invited. It did not trouble him that he couldn't hear; it was happiness enough to be doing something with other people. His old, trembling fingers fumbled eagerly over the fragrant fir.

Juliet did not wholly like it. "You musn't let grandfather bother," she told Carol.

"He doesn't," Carol answered, quietly. "It isn't a bother; it's a pleasure."

A month after she reached home Carol received a package and a note. The package contained an old medal. The note was from Juliet.

"Poor grandfather left us a week ago." Juliet wrote. "He wasn't ill; he just fell asleep one night and didn't wake again. Afterward we found this old school medal marked with your name. You won't care for it, I know, but I send it for his sake. We miss him more than we would have thought possible. I wish I had the chance to talk to him again—he wanted so little, and we were so thoughtless."

Carol touched the little old medal tenderly. It had cost sometimes, that summer,—but she was so glad now.