Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1882-12-22
CHAPTER Ill.

A dozen years later Kinkel was a retired mer-
chant a capitalist living, as tn e,ntoel society
reporter hath 1t, with an agud parent in his
own palatial residence, situated in an elite
quarter of upper tendon" Fritz, the iTreverent,
was smart bill broker and often had deal
ings with his old employer iii the way of buy
ing and selling "paper."
One day Fritz had Just closed transaction
with Einkel who sat in his library, which WIS
rather an awe and a mystery to the owner him
self. so magnificent and sombre was 1t in
Spanish leather hangings and 50 thoroughly
furnished with books that he couldn't read.
The bill broker let fall from his portfolio note,
on the face of which appeared the words "ten
thousand dollars
"Ha ha ~ laughed Fritz, picking up tho
paper 1 can't afford to lose that. man has
offered me 81 900 commission just to buy that
nOtaf0r him. I've had no cud of trouble to
get it. You see, the money was borrowed from
n large picture-dealer by an artist who gave the
note. Pictures were to be painted to cancel tho
debt in part. But the artist fell sick, his wife
fell sick aud his babies and-wel, there was a
deuce Of a row. The picture-dealer got rid OF
the note to another man, and, phew I've only
just got hold Of it.
Whats your customers name?"
" Gordon. He's the rich broker"
$50 And who's dot feller vat made it2"
Harrington Ford. Hes a painter"
Is he pOOr?"
eyes; he's in a peck o trouble"
"Yell, vat is Gordon goin' to do init this
note?"
Don't know exactly, but I can guess. Ford
can be pestered and harTied out of his life by
putting it into lawyers hands. Gordon's
game is spite"
Fritz" said Kinkel gifts you twelve hun
dred dollars commission ven you let's me puy
dot note
Fritz was betrayed against his business
principles into an astonished look, but he con-
qucred it instantly, and said: ~ can tell
Gordon couldn't get it, All right, Mr.. Kinkel.
Theres the note"
II is New Years Day in one of those homes of
art known as "StudiO Buildings" They are
very much better for art than for the purpose
Of bringing up ohildren-an occupation that
has swallowed up great deal of time in the
apartment occupied by Mr.. and Mrs. Ford.
There are Ave children scampering about the
studio.
Marian Ford is not as beautiful as when she
was girl. A little daughter Of four or five
years has robbed Marian's hair of some of its
brightness and the gold is in the ohild's baby
curls. chubby boy has stolen that lovely oval
from her cheek, and small wailing cry from a
cradle has, only a month ago, nearly been a
death-knell for the mother. But there's a
gentle brooding in her look a perfect, self
Tenounoing tenderness that her husband,
CHANGING up from his painting as she moves
, about, thinks better than the lost girlishness
Darling" he says, " l used to think I'd like
to paint your beauty. Now it would be i'm
possible He leaned back in his chair and
looked up at her in a worshiping fashion he
had. An the loyeliness of heaven is in yom
face my wife
She smiled and touched him.
"Dear Marian, we are poor, we work hard
we've had sickness and sorrow. Do you regret
what you said to me twelve years ago to-dayW
az bless the hour my love" She stopped