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Newspaper Page Text
A ROLLING STONE "
By Frank Filson '
(Copyright, 1916, W. G. Chapman.)
"Henceforward I'll be a rolling
stone no more," said Frank Latham
as he stepped out of the train at Ep
pingham. "I'm going to get a job and
stick to it. I'm 26 and it's time I set
tled down somewhere. Eppingham's
good enough for me. I'll become a
local magnate and own half the town
and be an influence in the county,
and maybe I'll go into politics and
perhape wind up as governor or
"Hey, young feller! Get out -of
It was a sad awakening from his
dream. Frank had inadvertently
stepped off the road and into the
flower beds of a real local magnate,
to judge from the splendor of the
house and the extensive grounds.
And when one is in old clothes one
must dream carefully.
With a low apology, Frank turned
to make off. But the elderly gentle
man who had shouted to him came
running up, wild with excitement
"What do you mean by walking on
my geranium beds?" he demanded
"I beg your pardon," said Frank.
"I didn't think where I was going."
"You don't have to explain that,"
said the man wrathfully. "Get out
of here and don't let me see your face
again or I'll have you run out of
town. I'll know you next time we
meet," he added.
Frank made off; there was nothing
else to do, in fact. A little way down
the street he stopped to ask a native,
who owned the big place.
"That's Mr. Stone," said the man,
grinning. "I guess you've heard of
him, haven't you?"
"The man who's building the big
"That's him, sure:"
"Confound, it!" thought Frank.
For he had come to Eppingham. in
vesting his last $10 on the train fare,
because he had heard that there was
to be unlimited work on Mr. Stone's
He had been gently born, but he
had not made the most of his oppor
tunities. The call of the road was
imperative to him. Again and again
he had settled down, only to fling up
his position and try elsewhere. But
now, after a run of hard luck which
had reduced him to a position which
he had never contemplated before,
Frank was glad enough of a chance
She Was Holding On for Dear Life.
of a position at day laborer's wages.
And he had ruined everything by his
"I'll give up. Fate's against me!"
said Frank angrily.
He turned out of Eppingham Into
the woods. Eppingham was the last
station on the line, beyond it was a
great expanse of state forest It was
early June and summer was calling.
Frank could have spent the whole
summer in a camp without a qualm.
He resolved to strike a trail on the