The Running Away of Chester Page #3

"The Running Away of Chester" is a charming short story by Lucy Maud Montgomery that follows the adventures of a young boy named Chester who feels misunderstood and trapped in his mundane life. In his quest for freedom and excitement, Chester decides to run away, leading to a series of encounters that help him gain a deeper understanding of himself and the importance of love and belonging. Montgomery's signature lyrical prose and rich character development evoke a sense of nostalgia and highlight the struggles of childhood, making the story resonate with readers of all ages.

• Short story

								

and smile were irresistible and won his heart straightway. He took the
candy with a shy, "Thank you, ma'am," and sat holding it in his hand.

"Eat it," commanded the rosy lady authoritatively. "That is what taffy
is for, you know."

So Chester ate it. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted
in his life, and filled a void which even the crackers and cheese had
left vacant. The rosy lady watched every mouthful he ate as if she
enjoyed it more than he did. When he had finished the taffy she smiled
one of her sociable smiles again and said, "Well, what do you think of
it?"

"It's the nicest taffy I ever ate," answered Chester enthusiastically,
as if he were a connoisseur in all kinds of taffies. The rosy lady
nodded, well pleased.

"That is just what everyone says about my sugar taffy. Nobody up our
way can match it, though goodness knows they try hard enough. My
great-grandmother invented the recipe herself, and it has been in our
family ever since. I'm real glad you liked it."

She smiled at him again, as if his appreciation of her taffy was a
bond of good fellowship between them. She did not know it but,
nevertheless, she was filling the heart of a desperate small boy, who
had run away from home, with hope and encouragement and self-reliance.
If there were such kind folks as this in the world, why, he would get
along all right. The rosy lady's smiles and taffy--the smiles much
more than the taffy--went far to thaw out of him a certain hardness
and resentfulness against people in general that Aunt Harriet's harsh
treatment had instilled into him. Chester instantly made a resolve
that when he grew stout and rosy and prosperous he would dispense
smiles and taffy and good cheer generally to all forlorn small boys on
boats and trains.

It was almost dark when they reached Montrose. Chester lost sight of
the rosy lady when they left the boat, and it gave him a lonesome
feeling; but he could not indulge in that for long at a time. Here he
was at his destination--at dark, in a strange city a hundred miles
from home.

"The first thing is to find somewhere to sleep," he said to himself,
resolutely declining to feel frightened, although the temptation was
very strong.

Montrose was not really a very big place. It was only a bustling
little town of some twenty thousand inhabitants, but to Chester's eyes
it was a vast metropolis. He had never been in any place bigger than
Belltown, and in Belltown you could see one end of it, at least, no
matter where you were. Montrose seemed endless to Chester as he stood
at the head of Water Street and gazed in bewilderment along one of its
main business avenues--a big, glittering, whirling place where one
small boy could so easily be swallowed up that he would never be heard
of again.

Chester, after paying his fare to Montrose and buying his cheese and
crackers, had just sixty cents left. This must last him until he found
work, so that the luxury of lodgings was out of the question, even if
he had known where to look for them. To be sure, there were benches in
a public square right in front of him; but Chester was afraid that if
he curled up on one of them for the night, a policeman might question
him, and he did not believe he could give a very satisfactory account
of himself. In his perplexity, he thought of his cosy lumber pile at
Roxbury Station and remembered that when he had left the boat he had
noticed a large vacant lot near the wharf which was filled with piles
of lumber. Back to this he went and soon succeeded in finding a place
to stow himself. His last waking thought was that he must be up and
doing bright and early the next morning, and that it must surely be
longer than twenty-four hours since he had crept downstairs and out of
Aunt Harriet's porch window at Upton.

       *       *       *       *       *

Montrose seemed less alarming by daylight, which was not so
bewildering as the blinking electric lights. Chester was up betimes,
ate the last of his cheese and crackers and started out at once to
look for work. He determined to be thorough, and he went straight into
every place of business he came to, from a blacksmith's forge to a
department store, and boldly asked the first person he met if they
wanted a boy there. There was, however, one class of places Chester
shunned determinedly. He never went into a liquor saloon. The last
winter he had been allowed to go to school in Upton, his teacher had
been a pale, patient little woman who hated the liquor traffic with
all her heart. She herself had suffered bitterly through it, and she
instilled into her pupils a thorough aversion to it. Chester would
have chosen death by starvation before he would have sought for
employment in a liquor saloon. But there certainly did not seem room
for him anywhere else. Nobody wanted a boy. The answer to his question
was invariably "No." As the day wore on, Chester's hopes and courage
went down to zero, but he still tramped doggedly about. He would be
thorough, at least. Surely somewhere in this big place, where everyone
seemed so busy, there must be something for him to do.

Once there seemed a chance of success. He had gone into a big
provision store and asked the clerk behind the counter if they wanted
a boy.

"Well, we do," said the clerk, looking him over critically, "but I
hardly think you'll fill the bill. However, come in and see the boss."

He took Chester into a dark, grimy little inner office where a fat,
stubby man was sitting before a desk with his feet upon it.

"Hey? What!" he said when the clerk explained. "Looking for the place?
Why, sonny, you're not half big enough."

"Oh, I'm a great deal bigger than I look," cried Chester breathlessly.
"That is, sir--I mean I'm ever so much stronger than I look. I'll work
hard, sir, ever so hard--and I'll grow."

The fat, stubby man roared with laughter. What was grim earnest to
poor Chester was a joke to him.

"No doubt you will, my boy," he said genially, "but I'm afraid you'll
hardly grow fast enough to suit us. Boys aren't like pigweed, you
know. No, no, our boy must be a big, strapping fellow of eighteen or
nineteen. He'll have a deal of heavy lifting to do."

Chester went out of the store with a queer choking in his throat. For
one horrible moment he thought he was going to cry--he, Chester
Stephens, who had run away from home to do splendid things! A nice
ending that would be to his fine dreams! He thrust his hands into his
pockets and strode along the street, biting his lips fiercely. He
would not cry--no, he would not! And he would find work!

Chester did not cry, but neither, alas, did he find work. He parted
with ten cents of his precious hoard for more crackers, and he spend
the night again in the lumber yard.

Perhaps I'll have better luck tomorrow, he thought hopefully.

But it really seemed as if there were to be no luck for Chester except
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes