The semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1882-1886, 1885-10-24
THE FOURTH HAND

"OAA0A Az 1~A6 AS NO ="
large, unframed canvas, held in place by
four brass toks. The old woman sits in a
straight-backed chair, her head turned over
her shoulder. Her rough hair is brought
down in an untidy knot; herlips are parted
in a grin that deepens the harsh lines Of her
face; her eyebrows are raised high on her
wrinkled forehead, and she is watching ME
always, even now while l write these words.
A few years ago q young German came to
our sleepy country town to give lessons in
languages n music, and it was not Ions
before everybody sang the praises OF Herr
Won Linden. His success was owing, per-
haps, as much to his appearance and ad'
dress as to his abilities. He was a tall,
handsome man, and his manner was the
perfection Of grave courtesy. His entrance
into our exclusive society was due chiefly
to three old gentlemen, who, when they
found he could play whist well, welcomed
him as the long h%oped-for fourth hand in
their game. So l made Herr Won Linden's
acquaintance, for he was twice a week at
the Dykman's, and l always spent the
whist evenings with Jane. She and her
bachelor brother Frank lived in the home
stead, which was, like them, neat, pr;m and
about SO years old. Jane might have sat
for a portrait OF the ideal spinster. She
was sharp-nosed and angular. She wore
gray gowns and gold spectacles. She hated
dust, had a pet cat and found hot tea very
restful. She instituted little suppers after
the games of whist, and the old gentlemen
ate them with great gusto and some secret
misgivings. Brother Dykman, who had a
sound digestion, would say maliciously to
dyspeptic Colonel White:
Take care. That salad is good, but as
q friend ] advise you to let it alone"
II can't!" the Colnel would cry in an
guish, helping himself for a second time.
Then Herr Won Linden's dark eyes would
twinkle and he glanced demurely at Jane,
who always smiled in keen appreciation.
One evening he came into the parlor where
we ladies sat, and said that while the COL
onel and Mr.. Dykman were wrangling over
q revoke he would make a dish for the sup
per; so we three went to the kitchen, a large,
airy room. with geraniums blooming in the
south window. It was deserted, save for
the sleek, brindled cat, curled up on a cush-
ion in front of the range. She rose to purr
q welcome and rub against o Linden's
legs. He stroked her.
Pussy, you nave a good home and a
kind mistress, you lucky pussy. There is
more than one to envy you. And now,
Miss Dykman, l must have a paper cap
first"
She got him a sheet OF white paper, such
as a neat housewife scallops and lays on
the shelves. never see a shelf with it's
scalloped paper hanging over the edge with
out being reminded of an old portrait l ( once
saw of q little girl beneath whose bright blue
frock was dispayed an inch or two OF snowy
pantaletes.
Herr Won Linden made himself q cooks
cap and when he put it On Jane tied a big
apron around him and we laughed as
though it wal the drollest thing in life. He
was chief cook. Jane and l were scullions
to do his bidding and fetch whatever he
wished. The old gentlemen trooped into
the kitchen presently, their friendliness and
their appetite sharpened by a happily con-
cluded quarrel, and we had supper on the
cooks own table that night. There was
snow on the ground outside and the whistle
of the winter wind deepened our sense of
peace and comfort. Jane Dykman bad
never been very young; to see that mid
night supper in the kitchen was a wild, b.
hemian revel.
"What fun we have had!" said Herr Won
Linden, as he tool leave. II must tell my
mother about it. She speaks no English,
and it is very hard for her, though it was
harder for her to stay in Germany alone.
You know she has only me-"
We had seep his mother, a bent old wo.
man, who wore a gray wig and a set of false
teeth, that did not pretend to deceive any
body. She had come only lately, and she
and her son had taken a tiny house, wedged
between two big brick ones, not far down
our street.
"Ispeak a little German, Herr Won Liden,'
I said. ~ was in Dusseldorf for a year or
more, and if you think your mother would
care to see me ! will call on her."
."Oh, thank you; l wish you would" he
exclaimed; land now, good night"
l did not pay the call as soon as l had
meant to, and when l did the Swiss maid oil
all work told me that Frau Won Linden
the gate, Mrs. Thomas, whose husband was
one Of the whist players, came out of her
house and crossed the street hastily.
"Well!' she srid, "what On earth are you
doing here? ] hope you are not going crazy
about Won Linden, too"
us anybody going crazy about him?"1
asked mildly.
"Yes, Jane Dykman is, and she is As il
she is a day. She is making herself ridicu.
lous, and you ought to have courage enough
to give her a hint"
II don't think she is making herself
Ridiculous" said ], and 1 spoke sharply.
is only to play whist. l dare say she is
grateful that she does not nave to make
the fourth hand any longer"
Her brother will be sorry he ever fccadi
a fourth hand" said Mrs. Th~mas; and
then she told me that Jane and Won Lin
den were talked about. She gave me a
good deal of amazing information, winding
up with: why, you are as blind as a bat
He is after her money, and she is fattered
and fooled out Of her senses. He is there
every evening that her brother is away"
watched Jane after that, and a sicken-
ing sense OF fear crept upon ME when
noticed how she listened for Her Won
Linden to open the library door, the sig.
nal that he was lone with whist and was
ready for the chat in the parlor. I noticed
the color flicker in her cheeks as his step
sounded along the hall, but l could watch
peared in the doorway and she looked up
to him; her smile OF welcome l did o want
to see twice.
On the evening OF a bank meeting, which
l knew Frank would attend. l vent to the
Dykmans', and when l entered the parlor
in the unceremonious fashion of an old
friend, l saw Herr Won Linden drop James
hand as he rose from the sofa. l could not
stop long and he gave me his arm home.
After he had left ne l stood in the hall for
a minute, then stole out to the porch. The
snow was on the ground and l could see
Won Linden stride up the street, cross it and
go into the Dykmans' house without wait
ing to ring the bell. Poor Jane! No one
could find any charm in her save those who
had known her always. and this spruce
young German, l was sure, was thinking of
her stocks and bonds.
A few evenings later, as l was passing the
little house where the Won Lindens lived, l
caught a glimpse into a lighted room on the
ground floor, and l paused outside the win
dow. This is what l saw: An old woman
asleep in a chair. On the table beside her
were a gray wig and a set of false teeth. She
opened her eyes and when she glanced to
ward the window over her shoulder l knew
that her portrait hung over my writing
desk. wrote to my Dusseldorf friend that
night. asking for information about the
model OF the famous charcoal sketch, but
before the answer could reach me Frank
Dykman came and told me that his sister
was engaged to Won Linden. She was mis-
tress OF herself and her fortune; she could
do as she liked.
81 ought not to have invited him to the
house." moaned poor old Frank, but we
needed a fourth hand, and who would have
dreamed that Jane"-he broke off in shame
and disgust. l showed him the. charcoal
sketch and told him that Won Linden's
mother had posed for the portrait, Inc
that NV friend at DusseldO orr might be able