The Penn's Grove record., 1888-11-10
A BROKEN VIOLIN.

~ happy RO-luChf llttio epilto WIN
slept all the morning, idled away the
afternoon and danced all night for the
delight of a crowded theatre; always
| the possessor of a smiling face and a
pair of laughing eyes in the presence
of her friends; as careless of her own
frequently hard lot as she was sympa-
tbetic to the sorrows of others; as tire
| less in the pursuit of pleasures as she
was indifferent to the worlds opinion
of her pastimes-ln short, a gay, Joyous.
in%corrigible bohemian. Such vas little
| Flora Tremble, second dancer Of the
| Cosmopolitan Opera House-or such,
| rather, was the estimate passed upon
her by her friends and associates: and.
as friends and associates a invariably
| diagnose our characters better than We.
Can ourselves, it Is possible thelr view
of Flora was the correct one.
She had been whirling and swaying
and pirouettlng there for nearly four
months now. The play was a gigantic
burlesque OF the spectacular order and
had held the boards through the long
summer months without a break.
Flora had come upon them suddenly,
like a flash, from no INT knew whittier.
She preserved a rigid silence concern
ing herself and no IL knew for certain
whether she was a pauper's child or
the offspring of aristocratic parents
She had secured an engagement IN the
chorus, but her graceful dancing and
bewitching presence had advanced her.
again and again until TO- she had at
tanned the proud distinction OF second
dancer, with only three appearances
during the performance and a salary of
fifty-ive dollars a week. Ordinarily,
she would have been envied and hated,
but no one but a savage could be guilty
of hating such a sunny, generous little
woman, who was as ready to part with
her last dollar to aid a bankrupted
chorus-girl as She was quick to fly
from the lavlshly-expressed gratitude
of the recipient.
Loversp We'll, If she had one She
had three scores of them. if you could
dignity them by the name. They were
of all ages and all grades of good and
bad looks. They came TO the theatre
regularly every night, drank in her in
dividual performance with their eyes
and departed, leaving the proofs of
their devotion in the form of carloads
of boQuets left at the stage door-and
which, it is to be feared, descended
with great regularity into the posses
sion of some impecGnlous chorns-girl
who had the donors full permission to
sell them back to the florist for what
they would bring. AS for letters-why
they came IN such basketfulS that Flora
never attempted to read them. She
pitched them regularly into The hands
Of the blue eyed little woman who
oficlated as her maid. and who care
fully sorted out the ones she supposed
her mistress cared to see. The others
found oblivion through various chan
nels, chiefly that OF trial by fire.
The staunchest friend that Flora had
In the world was old Otto, who played
first violin in the orchestra. No one
knew his surname and no u knew
why they called him ''old," as he was
surely not more than forty, and the
gray hairs in his glossy brown curls
were few and far between. Perhaps
1t was because lie was so studious and
loved his vlOlin-a genuine Anita, by
the way-so passionately as to never
allow it out OF his sight. But ''old"
Otto il was, and he didn't seem to
mind it. He smiled in his grave, quiet
way when they bantered lin Gu his
steadfast devotion to his instrument
and his pipe. a devotion so firm and
true as to forbid apparently, all thought
of participation III the pleasures the
others seemed to find so desirable.
Flora and he had ''taken a Shine" to
each other, as their friends elegantly
expressed 1t, when she first joined the
company. She made a confident Of
him; told him of all her troubles in
her childish petulant way; asked for
his advice and laughed with glee when
he refused to give 1t, because, as he
said, she only sought it in order that
she might tease him by disregarding
it. None of the three-score lovers who
w~vrshIpped her from before the foot
lights knew anything about Otto, or
they would have been passionately
Jealous. Flora told every one that she
thought more of Otto than any n on
earth, but that sine did not love him.
Why? Well, because in the first place
he was too good a man to care for such
an empty headed little brat (those
were her own wordsl as she; and in
the next place she never meant to
marry any one. but Just to dance and
dance and dance until her breathing
and her legs gave out, and then-well,
who cared what happened then3
One bright afternoon in September
Flora flew two steps at a time up the
three long flights of stairs that led to
Otto's modest apartments. She walked
in without ceremony. Otto, as usual,
was bringing strains from the Amati
that made the very sparrows on the
window sill outside cock their little
heads on n side in rapt attention,
He smiled delightedly upon her aud
and went on with his playing.
"Stop your miserable iddling- Otto,'
cried his visitor, impel and mA.'and
lis en- to me. Otto / ann to serve b.