Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1891-08-21
MY PRETTY NEIGHBOR.

whose two diminutive windows looked
across a narrow alley directly into two
other back windows. The alley was
about as alleys 60; the same proper
ton OF rag pickers stopped over bar
rels in back gateways as in other
alleys.
My windows were hung with abb
brevia;ed something's that my landlady
called curtains, and spoke of pathetic
ally rs having seen better days. But
Che two across the alley were quite
pretentious. One of them, the one
that caught the first rays of the re-
iuctant sun from over peaked roofs
and obtrusive caves. had box built
into it. where morning giories actually
dared grow. and twist about the string
she put for them. She was a fair
faced woman-girl, who took possession
some two months after | had moved
into my quarters.
l suppose she was young in years.
7 know | watched her with agood deal
of interest curious TO learn what
manner OF person it might be who had
the temerity to sing Home, Sweet
Home in a third-story back Sing
it. too, with both of her windows wide
open, Haunting little trills and i'm
promptu variations right into the open
windows on my side of the alley.
liked Missy. | like the calm ten
derness of the big dark eyes, the
breadth of the young brow, the mod
est maidenliness and the wholesome
ness generally of her appearance. l
found Blackstone n trihe prosy. even
when the windows over the way were
closed. and when evening brought the
little lady-for lady she was, every
inch OF her-home from work, it was
simply impossible TO sit still and pom
der legal quirks and founder through
legal sloughs. There was so much
pleasanter study opposite, done up in
neat dress and big eyes and goldy-
brown hair, and all that. Up would
go her windows, both of them, out
would go the bird cage for a breath
of air" and the little mistress would
unravel tangled vines and coax them
around the strings. She had been
watching the callow knobs develop in
TO long twisty buds, and l had grown
about as deeply interested myself
watching her watch them.
One morning | saw the first bloom
wide open. Us /, of course. included
the two windows in survey up and
down the alley. Then l fingered to
see what she would do when she saw
St. Hadn't long to wait, either. Pres
emily her blind was raised, and there
was that milk white morning glory
nodding bonnily to her.
20. you darlingr' she cried. and
held the pretty thing caressingly
against her face. Actually, the fool
ish child patted it and petted it. and
laughed softly to it; and ], spy that
was, felt my eyes as moist as if gust of
rain had blown in them, and a queer
choke in my throat and by some in
congruity of associations thought ir-
relevantly of my modest bank account
and at the same instant how winsome
she would look under that misty white
stuff bride wears l fancy / must
have forgotten that hitherto l had
played the role of unseen, for presently
she saw me, and with crimson cheeks
turned away into the room.
About this time 1 discovered that
the mirror in my room reflected oh.
jects across the alley in her room. l
instantly tilted the bold thing at an
acute angle that might not trespass
beyond the vine-hung window. But
one morning, when the maid in dust
ing had readjusted it, saw reflected
in it the girl in her room, walking TO
and fro with agitated steps, then sink
ing on her knees clasp her hands in a
very agony of prayer, the slim form
shaken with sobs. discharged, /
suppose, l muttered, savage that /
had thus been unintentional witness of
grief meant only for Him who sees
always. put that offending mirror
in the farthest corner of the room.
pelted around rather stormily for
awhile then went down TO the nearest
florists and bought the biggest bunch
of roses could find. ordering them
sent to that poor little girl crying her
heart out in that third story back room.
Not as a balm to her. oh, no; merely
as an apology to myself for having
seen the sorrow she thought none could
see.
Her blinds were drawn tight when l
got back to my den and j had TO race
down again and tell them not TO send
the flowers till next morning.
No light in her room that night.
Having It all out by yourself in the
dark, you poor little soul" thought
in somber soliloquy. That's the way
with women. They take a grief TO
their slumbcrs with them, fret, and cry
and brood over L. and it doesn't do "A
particle OF good. A man, now, would
Just jam his hat over his eyes, take
cigar and have 1t out In n tramp about
town"
Poor little womanl There we're
dark circles under her eyes next morn
inG. and the FIVE bright morning
glories tapping against her window
won but the wannest smiles. l saw her
eli languidly down and count every
penny 10 tho small pocketbook.
Neager enough. knew, from the de-